Beautifully Broken

Drown

Ashley

"So," I address the crowd, thousands of eyes staring back at me, hanging onto my every word. It's exhilarating yet cripplingly terrifying all at the same time. To have this kind of power, to captivate a crowd with a single word, I don't think I'll ever quite get a rush like this anywhere but the stage. "I'm sure all of you saw me walk out on crutches. A few nights ago, I broke my ankle. It hurts like hell. A lot of people on my crew said I should cancel tonight." I laugh shaking my head at the absolutely foolish idea I'd come up with. "I mean, they're probably right, I can't fucking walk. I didn't want to though. I didn't want to do that to you. While they were putting on the cast I was thinking of ways I could come out here and still give it a hundred percent. I realized I couldn't do that."

I wait for the disappointed booing to die down. I know what they're all thinking. I'm coming out here to give some bullshit speech about how I just can't perform tonight. Grinning, I know my next words are going to send them all over the edge. "From up here. Can I get a big circle on the floor?"

The kids open up, creating a slightly misshaped circle in the middle of the pit. A security guard dressed in an ugly colored yellow shirt helps me down off the stage. Everyone in the crowd remains silent as I make my way through the kids and into the empty space. Security sets up a chair, helping me strap my guitar over my shoulder. Once I'm settled I nod him away, turning to look at all the faces staring back at me.

"I've never done this before. I'm not sure any band has. I figured the way to sit and give it my all was to be in here with you. Now, I've got a few rules. I know, I know, there's always rules. I need everyone to be respectful. I don't have security down here with me and I don't wanna call them out. You can get rowdy, I'd be disappointed if you didn't, but don't eat me in the crowd. You behave and maybe I'll do this again. If you don't you'll ruin it not only for yourselves but for everyone else. Do we have a deal?"

The crowd roars and from my place in the middle of them it feels like nothing I've ever experienced before.

"That's what I fucking thought." Placing the microphone back in its stand I play out the first few chords of our opening song. "Let's rock!"

The show goes on without a hitch. The kids dance and scream the lyrics back at me from all sides. Sure, I get bumped into but it's always followed by an apologetic smile and a quick back off. At times I stand, jumping around on one foot as I swing my guitar around. Down here I can forget everything. I can be someone who isn't confused or hurt or hiding. I can be myself because that's what everyone else is doing. I don't have to think about Frank and how utterly irritating he is. I don't have to try and lie to myself about feelings I don't want to be there. I can breath and I can sing. That feels fucking rad.

The whole pit sits down with me as I sing out the final song, lighters and phones thrust into the air. I cry and they cry with me. The feeling of hands reaching up to grip my shoulders and offer a comforting pat makes me feel more connected to the group of people that care enough to listen to my music. More than anything else ever could. Before hobbling back to stage I give out hugs and handshakes and even a few kisses to tear streaked cheeks. Not because I feel obligated but because I want to because these kids are just as much my family as the guys waiting for me on stage.

As I lean against my brother, I press the microphone back to my lips, somehow feeling that my usual bow off isn't enough. "Thank you. You all made this night so incredibly special. You've all reminded me why I started this band in the first place. Tonight it's not just us four fools up here, tonight it's all of us. So night, we, as a collective whole are Claim of the Broken. Thank you for a night I will never forget."

I stay and watch The Used and Fall Out Boy play, not nearly exhausted enough to return to my bed just yet. Bert smiles stupidly over at me, sticking his tongue out and making kissy face anytime he catches my gaze. It feels light and fresh, void of all the messy confusion of labels and definitions. Bert and I will never be good with those types of things, but I enjoy the teenage flirting and the way his eyes crease when he smiles and the way he's never scared to just lean over and kiss me. I take comfort in the unknown, in the vagueness of what we are because there's no pressure and no chance of getting hurt or false expectations.