𖤐₊ ˚ .༄𖤐₊ ˚ .༄ ↯ chapter two ― act one! (way we go down )
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one year, three months, six days and two hours later
MUSIC FROM THE FIFTIES ECHOED ON THE STREETS OF LOS ANGELES, THE THING WAS— there were no speakers that were playing such music. If you would have asked anyone who was paying attention to the old-timer music, they would give you some sort of answer saying that someone was just being arrogant and blasting old classics for everyone to hear. In that case, it meant that Theo Calaveras himself was arrogant.
Some people would go insane at the sight of seeing their body covered in blood, window shards and bruises realizing that a) they're dead and b) they're a fucking ghost. Unless of course, you've been blessed with not giving two shits since your heart's basically broken enough as it is, in which case you can look at your dead body with a shrug of your shoulders and move on with your life.
Theo Calaveras had found death to be the easiest transition of his life. Considering the fact that he had moved away from his home in El Paso, Texas when the band was formed, did national and world tours, death didn't involve getting car sick and throwing up all of the chicken nuggets you ate from McDonald's or the immense jet leg after one of their concerts in Tokyo, Japan. It was a swift and smooth change, even if it meant never living again.
A loose black t-shirt with a purple and pink graphic design clung to his body as his white vans danced to the imaginary beat from the tune that played in his head. The leather bracelet that Hunter gave him for his birthday last year hung on his left wrist as he threw his hands up the air as the tune continued to play in his head. Unfazed by all of the people that would walk through him, a grin tugged at his lips the more the music bellowed in his mind. And it needed to be heard.
He gestured his hands into finger guns, pretending to fire them into the air. Instead of his usual fifties jams playing for everyone on the streets of Los Angeles to hear, a Twisted Overture classic blared out as soon as he fired his finger gun in the air. Exploded with colours of music that echoed in the streets, Theo closed his eyes, the lyrics escaped his lips, as he imagined that he was playing in the stadium filled concerts as before.
He could hear the crowds screaming his name, he could see himself looking over at Hunter who shot him a flirty wink with the lick of his lips. Milo was on the ground doing a complicated guitar riff, Kion ran his hands through his sweaty locks of hair, but they were all together, living the dream. Euphoria flooded his senses as the old memories seemed fresh in his mind, the music drew him in —and Theo's voice rang out amidst the song as he broke out into song.
