dumb

♡BOYS DON'T CRY ♡

January 23rd, 1989.
"Someone needs to fix these fucking lights. Can barely even do my makeup with this shit," Cleo grumbled, a stern frown pulling at her lips, which were painted with a shiny gloss. Her nose pressed against the mirror as she desperately tried to apply her eyeliner beneath the flickering lights.

Jenny laughed quietly, focused on adjusting the tassels of her bra. Her honey blonde hair masked her face as she looked down, body slightly shaking as she giggled at Cleo's stark vulgarity. Maggie, too, let out a chuckle, brushing her curly black locks.

"Exactly! I can barely get my eyeshadow blended!" Deja agreed loudly, as she pulled on a strip of cherry red fabric that was supposed to serve as a skirt. Lenny's was a dump. The ceiling had cracks and water leaked in through them. The lights flickered and the heater was broken, exposing them to the harsh cold.

Maggie knew that she needed to leave, but what was the point? Aberdeen was hell, and there was no where else she could successfully work at. She was stuck, and so were the other women, it seemed.

"Maggie, you're up in five," Carol said hoarsely, patting the younger woman's shoulder. She managed the dancers and looked after them. "Alright. I'm good to go." Maggie said, turning towards a vanity mirror. She leaned over Cleo, touching up her red lipstick a bit.

"You can go ahead to the apartment after you're finished. I go after you. I'll just get a cab or something," cleo muttered, transfixed on her own reflection as she carefully dragged the felt tip of the eyeliner over her lid. "It's fine, Jenny and I will wait." Maggie insisted, straightening up. The tassels of her black bodysuit tickled the skin of her thighs.

She took a deep breath, and hoped to perform well.

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"I can't believe I let you drag me here.." Kurt muttered, his raspy voice strained. He took a long swig of beer, more miserable and down on his luck than ever. His band mate and friend, Chad, laughed quietly. "C'mon Kurt, we'll just get hammered and forget all about Tracey, you know?" Kurt simply shook his head.

Being at a club made him feel gross, like he needed to scrub his skin raw of the grime that stained it. Him and Tracy had broken up, and he felt strange. He was not devastated, nor angry with the outcome; he felt calm.

After all, they had ended in mutually, and decided to remain friends. But this bizarre sense of failure ached dully in his bones, like he had fucked up yet another seemingly blissful gift life had to offer.

Whatever, Tracy probably deserved better anyways.

Kurt drained the last sip left in his beer bottle, and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Just the sight of the stage where some woman would promptly strip and be observed by sweaty toxic lumberjacks made his stomach queasy. "This is gross.." he muttered to krist.

He shrugged in response. "We're here for the booze, man." Chad snorted at this. "I'm here for both." He argued. Kurt rolled his eyes, and let his head fall into his hands. He felt chads large hand clap against his back. "You'll be fine, Kurt. People break up, it's life. You'll find someone better." He said seriously.

Kurt found this unlikely, but muttered a weak "thanks."

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Maggie kept a straight face the best she could during her "performance." She did this multiple times, every night of the week, but the hungry, untrustworthy stares of men beneath her always managed to disgust her. But a nasty scowl wasn't ladylike nor sexy, so she maintained something between a smile and frown. They weren't looking at her face anyways, just her body.