Chapter Text
Tech rehearsals were always shit. They never failed to leave you with numb fingers and ringing ears. You lay practically half-dead on the edge of the linoleum stage in the venue that you guys had rented out for your demo concert. Your eardrums rung with the sound of Murdoc grunting as he carries his amps up the stairs and the feedback from 2-D screwing up the mic check on his nth attempt. Yes, you were definitely lucky that guitars were always first in your tech rehearsals, it didn't ease the fact that it would probably take another five hours to even go back to the studio where you would most likely be forced to double check your instruments.
You owed Murdoc a lot for giving you a chance in his band, but god did you envy him for being able to last so long in practice. He could be a cunt, but you had to hand it to the man, he held a level of indescribable talent on the bass that you wish you could achieve with your guitar. But even then, even then , the amount of time that has been wasted in simply strumming your guitar "perfectly" -as he would phrase it- was absolutely irritating. You've had to hold yourself back from physically strangling him as he slacks off while you and Paula do all the work he forces you to do.
"Stuart!"
Oh, speak of the devil.
Stuart, -or, you know, 2-D, which is the name he goes by - whips his head to the sound of his girlfriend calling his name and temporarily concludes his mic check to stagger his way towards the sound of her voice. He stumbles quite a bit around Murdoc who rudely pushes past him as he drags his amps to the middle of the floor, before he stomps down the stairs and disappears in the back hallway behind the stage, calling out a slightly bothered "What?" in an attempt to find her. You then hear a door slam close and a thump, and assume they snuck back to make out.
Young love.
Disgusting.
You cringe inwardly as you -regrettably- imagine the sound of their lips smacking together and slap the top of your forehead to shoo away the intrusive thought before it gets too far. A stinging pang rings through your chest and you ignore it, probably just nervous about the demo performance in a couple hours. It wasn't like it was an actual concert, simply a couple "trusted critics" and family friends who half-heartedly promised to come because they owed favors. You couldn't imagine how 2-D felt as the frontman and lead singer of the band, shoved into the admittedly small spotlight.
The thought of putting yourself out there like that makes you sick to your stomach. Oh well. At the very least you could hide behind the lead strumming of your counterpart. If there was one good thing about having a slightly self-centered lead guitar, it's that no one noticed you in the background. How comforting.
After a couple minutes of Murdoc's pacing and groaning, he yelps angrily and points at you with a crooked finger. "Will you please go get that sodden blue haired piece of ass? I can't finish a mic check without the microphone user!"
You moan and throw an arm over your eyes, "Why can't you do it?"
The sound of cuban heels clicking madly against the floor wakes you up from your tired trance and you jump as the sharp point of a boot jabs you in the side. You remove your arm from your face and are met with a pale green glare staring straight through your soul.
"I said , go. Get. Him."
You glare back at him and flip him the bird, before you half-heartedly get yourself up by the knees and stomp harshly away like a cranky child being told to go shower. Which to some extent, you were, save the shower part. You reel your way around the maze of hallways in the fluorescently lighted backstage, and when you find the room that had the disgusting wet sounds of wet swollen lips pressed against one another and the groaning of two people, you realize you've come across the right room, and call out.
"2-D? Hello?"
You hear Paula groan and 2-D quietly shush her.
"Uh- Yeah? What is it?" He asks back, a bit muffled by the wooden door.
"Mudz needs you."
"Oh for fucks sake-" "Babe don't- For what? Exactly?"
You scowl and glare ineffectively at the door, "Something about a mic check? I don't know, just hurry up before he has a meltdown."
"Yeah, yeah, okay- tell'em I'll be right there!"
"Oh I sure will.."
Not.
You don't know why you're suddenly so bitter, maybe because Murdoc woke you up, or maybe because of the clear spite in dear Ms. Cracker's voice as she complained about you simply doing what you were told. Maybe because you wish you were in her place.
Wait, what?
You shake your head and slap your head again. Damn, intrusive thoughts, you needed to get those in check.
As you turn on your heel and prepare to stomp away again, you hear the start of a conversation in the closet the two lovely lovers were crammed in, and decide, why not. You weren't having a good day anyway, might as well eavesdrop on a chat you were most definitely not meant to be hearing in on.
Paula starts.
"God damn it, Stuart."
'Stuart' intervenes.
"Babe, y'knew this was gonna happen anyway. It coulda' been Russ, it doesn' matter."
"Yeah, but still, why her ."
The way she places infliction on that word strikes through your throat. Ouch.
"What's the problem?"
"I don't know, maybe it's that the girl who's always eyeing up my boyfriend just happens to always interrupt our private time."
Double ouch. 'Eyeing up'?
"Paula, this isn' our private time. We're in a closet ."
"Doesn't change the fact that she's always lookin' at you!"
"Sweetheart I've got blue hair an' no eyes. Everyone's always starin' at me."
"I just don't understand why we needed a second guitar in the first place.. She doesn't even need to be here ."
Oh.
Triple ouch. Tears well up in your eyes at that one.
"Are you seriously jealous?"
It goes silent for a couple seconds.
"Paula- You can't be serious."
"Well I am ."
You can hear the roll in 2-D's pitch black eyes.
"Y'know what- I'm not doin' this right now."
Yeah!
"I can' believe you're jealous over a friend ."
Exactly- wait. That.. that word shouldn't have stung so much. He was right, you were just a friend, there was no reason to be so bitchy over a completely platonic relationship, between two people who had barely known each other for a year.
Yeah. You qualified as a simple friend. That's it. So why in the world were you seconds away from crying? Couples bicker all the time, jealousy was normal, surely she didn't actually think so lowly of you. It was just a lovers' quarrel.
You're snapped out of your thoughts as you hear the doorknob turn and you sprint to hide behind the corner where the stage meets the beginning of the hallway. You peek out to watch as 2-D annoyingly looks back at the darkness of the closet before his head snaps to the end of the corridor where you just manage to miss his gaze and duck behind the wall. The door slams close and you hear him mutter something in the tune of "Now look what you've done." but you aren't sure, you're focused on nonchalantly climbing back onto the stage without making it seem like you just got there.
You rapidly wipe your eyes and sniffle right before he rounds the corner and avert his gaze. You're not even sure if he's looking at you but you can feel a pair of eyes staring straight through you.
2-D lankily steps past you and up to a fuming Murdoc, obviously upset because of how long it took for him to meet his request and as he's grouchily yelled at he stares back at you as you awkwardly stare back.
Surely he didn't know you heard everything. There was no way he saw you, right?
He was probably just averting Murdoc's eyes. It's not like you could tell where he was looking anyway. His irises were too deep a red to notice. You were just being weird.
Yeah. You were being weird. Too caught up in your emotions and wincing when you notice a couple deep red marks on his neck. God you shouldn't be thinking of him doing the same to you. Just hormones, hopefully.
When Murdoc's done screaming you waddle your way back to your spot on the edge of the stage, and lay back down, closing your eyes again.
Just a couple more hours. And it'll be over.
Just a couple more hours.