There were times when I hated the fact that I cut my hair.

I'd been in the hospital about a week after my surgery, and sometimes I wondered if I'd asked the nurse to chop it all off just because I was so upset about everything that had happened and couldn't get my hands on anything else - it was the only thing I could tangibly destroy at that moment. But now it was short, and I had to find something else to destroy before that same feeling of horrible, disgusting inadequacy destroyed me.

I didn't hang around for Beyond the Pines' set. It wasn't like I hadn't seen them live before (in fact, it had been my first legitimate metal show), and it wasn't like I'd be missed lurking around in the wings backstage marinating in how much better of a frontman Jeremy Brock is than me. Besides, I wasn't exactly trying to watch Kevin making fuckboy eyes at Sienna every time he thrashed out a chord progression he thought was impressive.

Instead, I sat on the bus, drank my disgusting throat coat tea, and watched Terrifier on my laptop, trying not to check how miserable our streams looked on Spotify. I'd seen Terrifier before, but something about seeing other people hacked to bits made me feel just a little bit better about my own bullshit. Like, at least I wasn't hanging upside down being sawed in half from groin to throat.

If you know, you know.

I'd made it well past that scene when Raf trudged onto the bus, dropping onto the couch beside me and peering over the top of my laptop just in time to see Art the Clown bashing some poor dude's head in.

"Sometimes I wonder about you, kid," he chuckled as he shook his head.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You've been wondering about me since the first day I walked into your Midtown apartment for piano lessons, and the first thing you said to me was if I'd taken someone else's blazer from school."

He chuckled again, this time the smile he wore looked more faint and longing, like he wished he could go back to that very moment. "Because it was damn near swallowing you whole."

"Maybe that's why Marnie never let me leave a lesson until I'd eaten something. She must have thought I was being starved." I mused with a similar smirk, feeling the nostalgia well up in me too like tides before a storm.

"Yeah, well food was part of her love language." It seemed like the tides of nostalgia were now drowning Raf as he shifted on the couch cushion and rubbed a hand tersely down the side of his cheek.

I swallowed hard. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Put my foot in my mouth and mention his dead wife.

Raf held a hand up to stop me. "It's alright. I'm...I'm happy you have those good memories."

I did, but I also knew as well as Raf did how dangerous feeling nostalgic could be. I was sure we remembered 10 year old me and my skinny pale fingers on his and Marnie's glossy black parlor grand piano very differently. Marnie and Raf had always touted me as one of their most talented proteges, but that didn't mean I still didn't go home afterwards and cry about not being good enough. Even if he knew that now, he didn't then.

The thing about being nostalgic was that the further back those memories became, the more the bad parts of the memories fell away, leaving only our romanticized versions of it all. Maybe one day that would happen for me, too.

"How's, uh...how's your throat?" he asked, making a clumsy attempt to pivot as he gestured to my tea.

"Fine," I shrugged. "The tea tastes like dog piss, but it works I guess."

"And again I say, sometimes I wonder about you." He grinned wider now, burying any lingering grief. "How do you know what dog piss tastes like?"

"I just know everything," I deadpanned.

"Right, of course." He nodded, twisting his expression into almost comic seriousness.

He gave my knee a pat before getting up with a groan, but he lingered. I knew what was coming next, and I braced for impact.

"You know..." he began, his back to me as he absentmindedly stacked and restacked the boxes of tea on the counter beside the sink. "I don't think tonight was nearly as bad as you-"

"I don't wanna talk about it," I cut him off before he sunk me into a different kind of nostalgia - one where I actually felt good about being on stage and not like I was going to spontaneously combust if I took one wrong step.

Raf shrugged. "It's not a big deal. You're a little rusty, that's all. You just need to loosen up, Dev, and you'll get there."

"No, what I need is to do something different tomorrow night."

Raf took a measured inhale, tapping his fingers on the counter. As well as I knew him, he knew me better. To him, I was still that skinny little 10 year old who just wanted to be good at piano because he didn't know any better. "Don't do what I think you're gonna do."

I moved my laptop off of my thighs and swung my legs over the side of the couch to look at him head on, hoping I sounded more assured than I felt. "Respectfully, it's my band and I'm gonna do what I want."

He hissed out a tight breath. "You know what? You wanna go out there and destroy your vocal cords for the sake of your pride, be my guest."

He sounded frustrated, but I was all too familiar with the stinging tone of disappointment that lingered beneath it.

"I'm gonna go help your band start to pack up so you can sit in here and continue your tortured artist impression."

I scoffed in disbelief, but he was out the door before I even had an attempt to fire something back.

⋆ ★

SHOW 2 - Infinity Music Hall, Hartford, Connecticut
October 3rd

The turnaround for shows on back to back nights was like being sucked into a vortex, unsure of where you'll be spat out or how you even got there.

Show ends at 11 PM. Pack up by midnight. On the road by 1 AM. Fall asleep somewhere between 2 and 3 AM. Wake up mid-morning in another state. By the time you've had your coffee, it's 2 PM and time for soundcheck at the new venue.

"We're gonna close with October Forever," I told Evie, Clark, and Gareth after we'd finished our initial soundcheck. We had our own room backstage at this venue, and after Raf had ordered us subs for an awkward lunch/dinner hybrid meal, all we could really do now was wait. Clark was reading (the three of us had a bet going how many books he'd go through on tour), and Gareth had been sprawled across the worn down leather couch tapping his drumsticks mindlessly against his drum pad, his legs draped over Evie's lap as she had her head down in her phone. At least, until she'd registered what I said.

Evie snapped her gaze up and shot me a wide-eyed look. "You're not serious."

"Do I look unserious?" I asked with a forced casualness.

"Well, no. But Devon-"

"It's October, so we're performing the song we wrote about October," I cut her off, but when her eyes hardened in a way that I knew was frustration to mask hurt (something I knew she picked up from me over the years), I sighed and lowered my voice. "I can do it, E. But I...I need you behind me."

Evie's hazel eyes softened, and she pinched her lips together and nodded. "I'm always behind you, Dev. You know that. That doesn't mean I think this is a good idea, but...I know you. Once you've made up your mind..."

She trailed off with a shrug, and with slightly more conviction I turned my attention to Clark and Gareth. "You guys good to play it?"

Clark shrugged in response, and Gareth raked a hand through his already messy mop of hair before blowing out a breath. "Sure man. Whatever you think."

Sienna had been lingering in the corner, tapping away on an iPad (had she always had that?) with a neon pink cardigan that looked like it might have been made of sheared unicorn fur draped over her shoulders. But when I glanced over at her, she was already looking at us. At me.

"Something to contribute, Polly Pocket?" I felt my lips curl up against my will.

"No," she shook her head. "Old song?"

I blew out a breath. "Yeah."

"Well, good luck." She offered me a faint smile, and her voice carried just enough sincerity that made me believe I needed whatever luck she was offering.

I clung to it when we started our set, and I clung to the surges of adrenaline that pulsed through my veins the closer we got to the end. I knew I was taking a risk, but god if it paid off, I would feel like Michael Myers reborn. Purely and relentlessly unkillable.

I refused to let myself think about what would happen if it didn't.

"So, we've got one more song," I said into the mic to an increasingly restless crowd. Most people weren't there for us, and it was becoming more apparent as time went on. But I wasn't loosening my grip yet. "It's an older song of ours, but it's about October, and all the stuff we feel deep in the trenches of autumn, so...it felt right to close with tonight."

We got a nice smattering of applause just as we started the song, and I allowed myself a smirk. I loved the intro of the song. It had a real 80s synth vibe layed over the rest of the music, and it really lifted over Clark's heavy guitar chords.

I don't know if I can hold it together
My heart is turning cold with the weather, October forever
I'm over the terror
I'm part of it now

I liked our old music. It sounded how I wanted it to sound, and there were pieces of me in it that I'd been okay with giving away - blood and bone and organic matter I didn't need. Performing it again after being told I couldn't awakened something in me, and I fed him.

You're treading down a dark path
In fall weather
Flashlights glow but you don't feel better
Your blood flows but you still feel dead inside

Most of the song was sung cleanly, but there was a prolonged, screaming bridge that I used to be able to do effortlessly. It was now or never, so I sucked in air until my lungs were maxed out, and I screamed as if it would expel all the doubt and weakness and fear out of me.

It feels like I'm still in the dark
I never escaped
They ripped me apart
I became what I hate
I swear that the fear left me blind
And ridden with doubt
These terrors are mine
They live in me now

I was met with a roar of cheers as I stood on the front amp with my arms out, and it ignited in me something I hadn't felt in years.

But the thing about having power like that course through you is how aware you are when it's gone. When I went to close out the final chorus, it felt like someone had wrapped their hands around my throat, and the words wheezed out of me in nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

Evie picked up on it immediately, taking over the chorus effortlessly while simultaneously sliding me a side eye that screamed you fucking idiot. Clark joined in quickly afterward, making it sound like that's how the song went all along.

I knelt down on the amp, sliding my hand down the microphone stand and clutching onto it for some semblance of balance. Every breath I took felt like I was swallowing glass, but the familiarity of that feeling felt even worse. My heart throbbed in tune with the song and the echoing closing chorus from Evie and Clark.

I don't know if I can hold it together
My heart is turning cold with the weather

Shame willed me up and off stage before the song finished, and I wished I didn't already know what this felt like. Not just the burning sensation in my throat, but the sting of knowing you fucked up in front of people that expect you not to.

Being 14 and performing a haphazard piano solo in junior philharmonic was pretty much the same as being 26 performing a song I no longer had the capability of singing. They were forced, and my body willfully rejected them.

Raf came jogging up to me with my tea-filled Yeti.

"Are you alright?" he asked, putting one hand on my shoulder as he handed me the Yeti with the other.

I took a long gulp, desperate for anything to soothe the ache. I was already sweating, but this warmed me in a way I needed it to.

"Fine," I croaked out, sounding like someone who ate cigarettes. "I'm fine."

"Vocal rest," he instructed sternly as he walked me towards the exit doors. "For the rest of the night. Go back to the bus, take a hot shower, and finish your tea."

I went to say something else, but he held his hand up to stop me. "Vocal. Rest. I'll take care of everything here."

I nodded in response, and even though he gave my shoulders a reassuring squeeze, he wore such a look of disappointment on his face as he turned away. I was pretty damn familiar with that, too.

My whole body ached as I made my way back through the parking lot to the bus, carelessly slugging through little puddles of leftover rain. I did as I was told, because there was still that obedient little kid in me somewhere.

I holed up in my bunk until we left for the night, and when I was sure everyone else had gone to sleep, I slunk out into the dark. I might have willfully fucked up, but that didn't mean I didn't deserve comfort food.

I slid the package of Oreos off the top shelf (out of everyone else's reach obviously), along with a bowl and a spoon, then grabbed the milk out of our mini fridge. When I sat down, I realized they'd already been opened, and half of a sleeve was missing.

Too tired to be annoyed that someone was an Oreo thief, I dumped a bunch into a bowl, poured the milk over it, and waited for them to get just the right amount of soggy.

It was 2 AM, and I didn't know why I felt like I needed to see if there was any chatter from the one or two music blogs that Sienna swore were coming to the show, because there was no way any of it could be good. I guess there was morbid curiosity in it, like rubbernecking after a car crash.

The Green Inferno Has Lost Its Edge was all I needed to see before putting my phone face down on the table.

"Hey."

You've got to be fucking kidding me. It ached to swallow down the knot that had formed in my throat, and I stabbed at the Oreos in my bowl with the spoon to break them up. By the time I looked up at her, she was on her toes, trying to reach for the same shelf that my Oreos had been on. I shouldn't have even been surprised it was her.

I tapped on the package to get her attention and when she wheeled around on her heels, she frowned.

"Of course they're yours," she grumbled. "Evie told me you guys share everything, I figured..."

I shook my head and pushed the package across the table, hoping she'd take the hint that I was too tired to split hairs and she could just have them.

"Oh, thanks." She moved toward me cautiously, like she was waiting for me to bark at her. When I obviously didn't, she sat down across from me and plucked two out of the package, glancing over into my bowl.

"That's one way to eat Oreos." She looked almost amused as she watched me eat my soggy cookie cereal concoction, and all I could do was nod in response.  

"Right. I know you can't talk, but..." She got up and walked back towards the bunk, then quickly emerged with a small notebook and a pen. "If you feel like it." 

Ironically, the one time I could justifiably ignore her, I almost felt compelled to want to talk to her. When I looked across the table at her, the disappointment I'd come to expect from everyone just wasn't there. She pulled at the sleeves of her oversized hoodie while she waited for me to at least show proof of consciousness. The late nights weren't obviously something she was used to as she heaved out a tired sigh, but she still looked truly and genuinely concerned.

I hated it. I didn't understand why she kept coming back even though I kept snapping at her like a rabid dog that's been chained up. It reminded me of that quote from that one depressing stop-motion Wes Andersen film - I am not a violent dog, I don't know why I bite.

But I was compelled all the same, and so I scribbled down I fucked up and pushed the notebook towards her.

She nodded at it, slowly like she was trying to figure out how she could disagree with me just to make me feel a little bit better, so I grabbed the notebook again.

You can just agree with me for once.

This time she chuckled. "Okay, fair enough."

There was some kind of content silence that had settled between us. It wasn't until I'd finished and gotten up to rinse my bowl out that she spoke up again. "Devon, I..."

When I turned to face her, she paused and held my gaze. I wondered what she was thinking, and if what she was thinking about saying would be the same thing that she'd end up saying.

"Well, I just wanted you to know that I listened to the EP," she continued. "I'm sorry I didn't before, I just..." she waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter now. Anyway, I know I'm not a music person, but I'd like to think I understand self-marketing and image. And you...you're forcing all this old stuff onto a new audience. Your new audience doesn't know you any better, whether or not you're not screaming anymore or trying to sing old songs because you think they're better than what you have now. They just know what you are now."

I walked back to the table and grabbed the notebook.

It's not about them. It's about me.

I regretted it the moment I put the notebook back down for her.

She took a measured breath and nodded, and when she spoke again she kept her eyes down at my scratchy thick handwriting. "Are you just afraid of people hearing you actually sing?"

I felt my hand tremble as I wrote YES.

When I'd written a bunch of our new material, it was made of organic matter that I wasn't sure I could give away, but at the time I wasn't sure it would ever see the light of day. I just needed a place to put all that organic matter, and being angry was easier than being vulnerable. I knew that now more than ever.

She took it in stride like she seemed to do with everything I said and did. "Like I said, I'm not a music person. But, there's something about your voice that's very..." she tilted her head, trying to rattle loose the word she was trying to use. "...captivating. I can't be the only person who thinks that. So maybe just...I don't know. Use that to your advantage?"

I sat back in the seat, and all I could offer her was a passive shrug. Now was the time I was thankful I couldn't actually speak back to her. I wouldn't have known what to say anyway.

Sienna took two more Oreos before getting up. "Do with that what you will. Goodnight, Devon."

Captivating. First I was interesting, now I was captivating. I didn't know if my stomach or my heart was going to explode first.

⋆ ★

not me seeing this gif and saying to myself yeah he's gotta do that, my pretty angsty boy

october forever is a real song by the band driveways (who i also love and adore) and they're the other band i feel really represents the sound and vibe of the green inferno.

anyway, i love them. say it back. <3