Legacy

ZERO.

▷ PLAY PAUSE

We're thought that energy can not be destroyed or created, but if that is true then where the spark between us go?

"They're on in five minutes," The stage manger mutters harshly underneath her breathe as she walks down the narrow corridors backstage. Her satellite radio was talking in the back pocket of her worn out denim jeans about an ambulance outside the arena as she opened the green room door.

The stagnant smoke occupies the room where the Xander was lounging. His lanky body was sat up on the couch, as his inked fingers skilfully plucking the strings of the bass that was on his lap. A vape hung from his glossy lips as he lifted his head from the instrument to see who was barging into through door.

"Lucas isn't here, Joe," he mumbles out, as smoke passes from his lips.

The woman stands at the door, her eyes flickering around the room to only find that the boy was telling the truth. "Get on stage. I'll find him."

Xander nods lazily, his eyes fall on the device in her back pocket as she turns around before he looks back down at the instrument on his lap.

Granted, I don't know your name nor do you know mine. I've imagined you in my head from the description you've given me in the past, although given it's been three years since that very first tape, a new description is probably needed. I wonder if you imagine me?

Joey makes her walk down the corridor towards the exit of the building out onto the alleyway. The smallest dressing room, usually used for crew, was now in use by the headliner of tonight's show. It was his own bizarre request to have his dressing room closest to the exit and furtherest from the stage.

She opened the dressing room that had Lucas sprite across a label in black permeant marker. She pushes open the door to see that the boy wasn't in the room, but two others were.

"Get out on fucking stage, Everest."

The youngest boy of the band grins innocently as he removes the half naked girl from his lap almost reluctantly. "Sure thing, Joe," he chuckles as the same stage manger shuts the dressing room door, giving them some privacy to redress themselves.

"And get that girl out of here!" She yells through the door before walking back towards the stage, continuing her search to find her lead signer.

You probably never think of me, given the fact you haven't sent a tape back to me in the last couple of months. You're going to have to reimburse me for these cassettes, B-side boy. They aren't cheap to buy and yet I'm still purchasing them every month in hopes you relight that spark.

I'm optimistic, sue me.

On the other side of the building, Lucas was pushing open the emergency exit door and walking by the security by the door. The four men dressed in all black glanced at one another as he passed, but none of them have the courage to stop the boy as he walks further down the corridor with earphones in his ears and hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black skinny jeans.

He walked into the bands dressing room, the smell of strawberries telling him that Xander wasn't long gone. There was gifts and fan mail thrown on the vanity, but he didn't give them a second glance as he shoved them aside revealing his box of cigarettes. He took one from the cartoon and held it to his lips as he glanced to the clock in the corner of the room.

Two minutes till nine.

Currently, I'm staring at our first ever tape. I labelled it, loser and lover-with dollar signs for the l and v, of course. Sometimes, I wonder why you even replied to that tape. A sixteen-year-old ranting aimlessly to you about how shitty the world is on a cassette tape that you had picked up on a random park bench and you decided to reply to.

I know you don't believe in fate, but I do and that happening was definitely written in God's book for me and you to find one another. Destiny if you will.

The lit cigarette hung from his lips as grabbed the black nail polish off the vanity and opened it quickly, his nose scrunched up as the poignant smell filled his nostrils. He lifted the wand with his right hand, the skin near covered with black ink, hovering the paint over his thumb on his left.

"Fuck this," he muttered through his lips as he covered the red dye on his nails black with the glossy polish as the tape was nearing an end.

And now I'm analysing this shit so deeply...again. I know you're probably not even listening to these tapes, but if you are then please just let me know you're alive. I think you owe me that much.

The tape ended the same way it did the last four times he listened to it, but the boy didn't care. It was the last tape she'd sent and it's been two months, he's been slowly going insane. It was selfish of him to expect her to keep sending them, but that's what was and he wouldn't deny the fact.

Joey burst through the dressing room door as the boy stood up straight, his nails now freshly painted. He took the earphones out of his ears and shoved them into the pocket of his jacket where his Walkman was.

"Where the fuck were you, Luke?"

The boy shrugged, taking a final pull of the cigarette before putting it out on the ash tray on the vanity. He threw one last look to himself in the mirror, the sweat making his hair cling to his forehead, almost covering his eyebrow piercing and his eyeliner smudged making his bags underneath his eyes less noticeable.

The hollow look of his cheeks and the void look in his eyes were all consequences of the world he worked in, but they only added emphasis on the look he was portraying to the crowd.

He turned on his heel, taking his jacket off and handing it to the woman as he walked past her and into the corridor. "Take care of that, Joey," he told her lowly as he walked closer to the stage hearing the crowd's roars as the lights dimmed at his arrival.

One of the staff members, who's name he didn't know handed his earpiece and guitar to him in a haste as he was already late. Lucas took the black instrument from him and let the strap hang around his neck like it was it's home.

"Took your fucking time," Xander shouts at him as he walked towards the centre of the stage.

Lucas looked out at the crowd, ignoring the boy behind him as the lights cast down on him. His eyes glass over in greed as he hears his name fall so longingly from thousands of strangers lips.

The smell of weed in the air and the sinful acts being played out in the crowd only fuelled his insatiable greed for chaos. A sadistic smirk plays on his lips as he spoke into the microphone.

"Welcome to hell, Sacramento."