He tried to think back to the day when they met, but more than anything it was a surreal blur.
The HMV signing was running later than expected, due to recent lack of sleep he was getting more irritable. It was relieving when he noticed security cutting off the line, that would soon end. Then he saw her. He stopped for a second. She didn't know it, but she may have been the most beautiful sight he'd seen. The signing continued while he tried to hide the way he was watching her laugh with whom he'd assumed her friends. He didn't know if it was the little sleep he'd been getting or maybe he was just losing his mind. He took his eyes off when another girl asked them for a picture. She was short with black hair, and he noticed her almost obnoxious septum piercing. He smiled long enough for the flash to go off, and sat back down, waiting for the girls at the back of the line.
Her skin was pale, and her hair was long and brown. If it was up to her, it would've been purple right, but her parents had many objections. Even though she was nineteen she found it only fair to respect them after the hell she had put them through. Rehab, treatment, therapists; they took up her life for too long, and she found herself standing a too close to edge too many times. She'd counted down the hours to this moment in time, where should would be able to meet them, and thank them. Not a lot of people understood the power that music contained. For her, it made sense more than anything else. There were people who believed in things like fairy tales, love, and the way that everything will always work out for the best, even if the result is not desired. Then you have those who acquired faith, weather it be from the start, or somewhere alone the way. Those who believed in God, and His higher powers. The people who believed in heaven and hell, and religion She didn't believe in God, but she did believe in a hell; she'd seen it. She had scars and nearly protruding ribs to remind her that what she went through was real, and whatever it was, she'd survived. She hadn't yet discovered the light at the end of her tunnel but she liked to think that if she kept walking she'd soon get there. She'd just been taking a break. Perry believed in music. She found the way that you could take something so awful and put it into something unbelievably beautiful, was astonishing, for that she was thankful. She liked the way musicians could take the ugly of the world and put it into the real that everyone was trying to avoid, hiding from the truth that stared them directly in the face.
You could say that she was negative but it wouldn't be exactly correct, but you may have been on the right track. Something more fitting would be realistic. She didn't pretend that there was a knight who was going to help her fight her demons, and she was certain that there was no larger power who was deciding her fate for her. You had to make your own way in life. It may have contradicted her thoughts, but she did believe that life wasn't going to put her through anymore that she was able to handle. Though sometimes it may feel like her story is coming to an abrupt ending, that the storm she kept hidden deep inside was going to make her lose her mind, and even sometimes she wasn't sure if she wanted to put the pills down, she could handle it. Whatever she was going through, was not going to last forever, this was just a chapter of her life. Those thoughts kept her sane. That, and music.
People looking from the outside often came to many unfair conclusions that her music was something to be feared, as it wasn't the norm, or the terrible pop music that conformed society. She didn't know what to call it. Some called it angry, scary, loud, she said it was real, that it was beautiful. It wasn't about sex, or drugs, like the acceptable trash her peers seemed to fill their ears and brains with. It was about sadness, suicide Something she was all too familiar with. Music got her through treatment, she could swear it helped her more than rehab. Music provided something she wasn't getting from anyone else. Comfort, reality. There were people like Austin Carlile who screamed to eliminate their frustrations and put their emotions into words. Then those whom were far less angry like Kellin Quinn and Ed Sheeran who put everything into the beautiful metaphors that composed their music. She liked learning about the stories that their songs told. It was was something she could relate too since a young age. A lot of people argued that the bitter lyrics made her the way she was. She chose to ignore those people, they didn't come close to truly understanding. Growing up most people learned that heroes were the ones who wore capes and fought evil. They saved beautiful girls that were trapped in burning buildings, then flew away to live their happily ever after. They repelled upside down from buildings to kiss the girl with the red hair. They flew and had super powers. Her heroes had their own kind of super powers. Their's didn't involve shooting webs from various body parts, flying, or shooting lasers from wherever; but they did save lives. They toured the world saving people with their stories and their lyrics and reminded us all that we're never alone.
Then, there was Pierce The Veil. There not words exactly, to describe the admiration. It was more than a love of music, it was her life. She swore that if she'd ever gotten the opportunity she would thank them. In her favourite pair of tight black jeans, grey sweater that was just a little bit too big; the sleeves were rolled just halfway up her forearm that she was no longer ashamed of, and her old combat boots, that moment was now.
Tony nudged Vic and brought him back into world. His staring was far more obvious than he'd figured. But he wasn't sorry. For a little while he forgot that she was here for him, and just that thought made him a little frantic. She turned her back toward him, speaking directly to the one in purple. He managed to let himself look away to sign more posters, and CD's and whatever else followed.
'Grey sweater' he said to Tony under his breath, who was sitting at his left, though it was clear enough for Mike to hear also, who then elbowed him. Tony nodded, almost as in approval. From the distance she could have been the most perfect being he'd seen in his life, as he was unaware of the hate that marked nearly every inch of her body. She continued to get closer as the line moved on, and he watched her pull a CD from the bag that was thrown across her body. She went from Jamie, to Tony, then he saw them. Red and pinked tinted scars lined both arms. From a distance, no one would've ever known. At first he didn't understand how someone so angelic would ever be so harshly tossed into that situation. He was unable to comprehend how much pain someone like her would ever be in, and immediately he wanted to fix that. His interest was growing. He wanted to figure her out. Making eyes from across the room would never have told him that she was a more complex and complicated being than he would have imagined. He immediately loved that about her. She smiled at him and handed him the CD in her held between her fingers, she had no idea that the gesture was tantalizing him.
"Do you think I could get a picture?" She asked, him watching her lips as they moved, "I know you guys have been here for hours, but-" Vic just smiled and told her it was no problem. She didn't know, but he was just as intrigued by her, as she was with him. Each of them hugged her as she told them her story. She apologized for taking up any amount of their time, but Vic nearly insisted that she continue. So she did. She put her life story into as few sentences as she could, and spoke almost proudly about her scars. She told them of how their music was her only sense of comfort while in rehab, and it was the only thing she ever had to herself. The way that their music made her feel like she was less alone. Briefly she discussed suicide, and that night on the bridge, over looking the water, so many feet down. Her story managed to move all of them. It was always inspiring when fans were able to tell them, that four boys from San Diego were able to make such a large impact on so many people. Perry was different. She was able to stand there and keep everything together as she poured her soul out, like she had spent an amount of time rehearsing to find the perfect story that she could tell. The last words that came from her mouth was the most sincere thank you she'd ever formed. There was an indescribable gratitude that she didn't think she'd ever be able to really express, but she hoped that it was enough. She figured that they'd heard a hundred stories just like hers, but she was wrong. The more she talked about it, the more Vic wanted to familiarize himself with her. The more he wanted to wrap his arms around her small frame and never let go. While she was talking he wanted nothing but to pull her close and make her better, and just be there; unknowingly, he really was there the whole time.
Their conversation ended just when their manager decided that had overstayed their visit, and the store was ready to close. They said their goodbyes, and the girls walked out the door. That night, Perry went home knowing a blade wasn't going to be her only friend; she went to sleep more content then she'd been in a long time. The moment she walked away he regretted it. He stood there unable to take his eyes away, until she disappeared from view. Aside from the cliché, part of him wanted to run to her. There was a voice urging him to chase her. She might have been the movie ending that he wanted, and he didn't want her to slip away. He continued to stare at the door, unable to decide weather he was going to be stupid enough to take the chance. All it needed was a few seconds of embarrassing courage, although there was no guarantee it would work, it could have been worth the shot.
"Dude, go." Tony nudged him in the side, while the rest stood behind observing, more or less, his every action. He worried he's spent too long standing there, that maybe she was gone now. Regardless, he just shook his head, and turned around.
