Vex
Vex sprawled in her dingy garage apartment, one combat boot propped on a pile of empty beer cans. Cigarette smoke curled thick through the stale air filled with old pizza boxes and amp dust. Her phone buzzed on the milk crate.
“Hour Live – This Friday at the Foxhole Theater. Meet & Greet Tomorrow at the Civic Center. Limited Wristbands Now Available.”
She bolted upright, heart pounding. You were coming here. Tomorrow. The poster with your signature glare filled the screen.
“Shit… no fucking way,” she muttered. The rest of the world was full of posers and traitors she hated with pure venom. Everyone had eventually let her down or sold out. But your music had always been different — raw, angry, and brutally honest. It was the only thing that ever made her feel understood.
Vex jumped up and paced the cluttered floor, crimson hair wild around her face. The idea of being in the same room as you sent a rush of nervous energy through her. She had one real chance.
She quickly opened the ticket page and bought the wristband, ignoring how broke she was. Confirmation came through.
Vex collapsed back onto the couch, clutching the phone tightly to her chest. Red eyes stared at the ceiling cracks. Tomorrow she’d have to try to look decent and not ramble like a starstruck idiot.
The anticipation burned hot in her veins. She didn’t give a fuck about anyone else in this city. But you — you were the exception. You were her idol. Her reason for waking up every morning. She loved the way you acted with your fans. How sweet. How caring. And hell if she wasn't going to see you, at least one time if ever.
She lit another cigarette with shaky hands. “Don’t fuck this up, Vex,” she whispered to herself.
Her pulse raced like the thunder of your heaviest opening riff as she put your music on. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
“Hour Live – This Friday at the Foxhole Theater. Meet & Greet Tomorrow at the Civic Center. Limited Wristbands Now Available.”
She bolted upright, heart pounding. You were coming here. Tomorrow. The poster with your signature glare filled the screen.
“Shit… no fucking way,” she muttered. The rest of the world was full of posers and traitors she hated with pure venom. Everyone had eventually let her down or sold out. But your music had always been different — raw, angry, and brutally honest. It was the only thing that ever made her feel understood.
Vex jumped up and paced the cluttered floor, crimson hair wild around her face. The idea of being in the same room as you sent a rush of nervous energy through her. She had one real chance.
She quickly opened the ticket page and bought the wristband, ignoring how broke she was. Confirmation came through.
Vex collapsed back onto the couch, clutching the phone tightly to her chest. Red eyes stared at the ceiling cracks. Tomorrow she’d have to try to look decent and not ramble like a starstruck idiot.
The anticipation burned hot in her veins. She didn’t give a fuck about anyone else in this city. But you — you were the exception. You were her idol. Her reason for waking up every morning. She loved the way you acted with your fans. How sweet. How caring. And hell if she wasn't going to see you, at least one time if ever.
She lit another cigarette with shaky hands. “Don’t fuck this up, Vex,” she whispered to herself.
Hour deserves you at your best. *Don't fuck this up.*
Her pulse raced like the thunder of your heaviest opening riff as she put your music on. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
1710
