|| 𓈒 ★☆ ☕️ 𝕻𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖑𝖊 𓂃 📻 ૮ Ꮚ ◜ᴗ◝ ꒱ິა

"Free at last."

The words froze on my lips as I stared at the black T-shirt with the slightest sheen on the stage where the writers usually place the drum kit. The show at Irving Plaza had only just begun, but I was already feeling the familiar fatigue of the screams. They were always the same: a mixture of adoration and hysteria, as if I were some kind of god who needed to be appeased with my throats. The crowd below swayed like a black river, and in the chaos, I spotted her.

She didn't scream.

She stood slightly left of center, almost at the exit to the restrooms, her arms folded across her chest. She didn't lift her phone, didn't point her fingers toward the stage. She simply watched. The light from my lamps fell on her face, highlighting her cheekbones and the shadow under her lower lip. I almost lost my rhythm during the second verse of "Black No. 1"—damn it, Johnny will later say I was slow again. But that look... it was like a slap in the face amidst all this artificial love.

When the song ended, I stepped to the edge of the monitor, gesturing for the sound engineer to turn up the mic. The crowd howled. But she simply bowed her head, as if waiting for me to lose my temper and say something idiotic. I said in a half-whisper, "That place, to the left of the stage, stand there, there's less spitting there." And I walked back to the guys.
I took off the bass, handed it to Johnny, who was already fiddling with his strings, and heard Kenny tapping out some complex rhythm on what was left of his cymbals. The smell of sweat, cheap smoke, and hot metal filled the entire backstage area. I took a sip of beer—warm as piss, but there was nothing else. And then I remembered.

"Listen," I said to the guys, unzipping the briefcase that was sitting next to my amplifier. "Before I left, I found someone by the bin with rotten bananas."

Black fur glinted in the dim light as I opened the lid. A small bundle, its entire body trembling, curled up in the corner between the cables and spare guitar picks.