𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 :: 𝗝. 𝗝ordison. [ˢˡⁱᵖᵏⁿᵒᵗ]

𝘃𝗼𝗹 ④: 𝖈𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝖋𝗼𝘂𝗿

Ⅳ

NOW PLAYING:
«No Sex», Limp Bizkit
1:12 ───ㅇ───── 3:54

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July 17th, 2000.
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𝔗iffany sat in her usual spot at the back of the bus, engrossed in her textbook on war history. The hum of the bus engine and the occasional rattle of the road beneath seemed to fade into the background as she delved into the intricacies of conflicts long past. A neon blue highlighter glided across the pages, emphasizing crucial definitions and key events that would undoubtedly appear in her upcoming exams.

In her ears, Johann Sebastian Bach's compositions played, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the touring life happening just beyond the thin walls of the bus. The classical melodies served as a calming backdrop to the intense subject matter of her studies.

As she highlighted passages, Tiffany occasionally glanced out of the window, watching the landscape blur into a continuous stream of colours. The juxtaposition of the serene classical music and the historical narratives of war created a unique ambience in the bus.

Her focus was unwavering, her mind absorbing the details of battles, strategies, and the intricate tapestry of war. Tiffany's passion for history illuminated her eyes, giving her the appearance of someone fully immersed in a world far removed from the present.

Every now and then, a bandmate would pass by, the sounds of their chatter briefly interrupting the tranquillity of Tiffany's study space. She acknowledged them with a nod or a brief smile before returning to her books. It was a routine she had perfected on the road—balancing the demands of touring with the academic pursuit that fueled her intellectual curiosity.

As the bus rumbled on, Tiffany continued her solitary journey through the pages of history, guided by the timeless notes of Bach. In that small corner of the moving tour bus, the worlds of academia and metal collided, creating a unique harmony that reflected Tiffany's multifaceted identity.

Feeling the cushion beside her dip, Tiffany looked up from her textbook to find Joey settling into the seat next to her. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she removed one of her earplugs, the classical melodies now mingling with the ambient sounds of the bus.

"Hey," Joey greeted with a friendly grin. "Mind if I join the war strategy session?"

Tiffany chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes. "Sure, but be warned, it's not as glamorous as Slipknot's stage setup."

Joey feigned a dramatic gasp. "No pyrotechnics? What kind of war history are we talking about here?"

Tiffany laughed, appreciating the light-hearted banter. "The kind with more cannons and less confetti, unfortunately."

As Joey settled in, the two fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. Tiffany shared tidbits from her studies, weaving historical narratives with a touch of humour. Joey, in turn, added his own anecdotes, drawing parallels between the chaos of war and the controlled mayhem of a Slipknot performance.

The bus became a temporary refuge from the bustling world outside, where the clash of academia and music created a unique harmony. Tiffany found herself enjoying the unexpected company, the conversation providing a pleasant break from the intensity of her studies.

As they chatted, the war history textbook momentarily forgotten, Tiffany couldn't help but appreciate the irony of discussing battles and strategies while sitting amid a touring metal band. It was a collision of worlds that somehow felt natural in the confines of the bus, where intellectual pursuits and the spirit of metal coexisted in a harmonious melody.

"You know, the guys think that you don't like them."

Tiffany shrugged. "I don't like anyone."

Joey rolled his eyes and chuckled faintly. "Now I'm talking serious shit and you're bullshittin'."

It was Tiffany's turn to roll her eyes. She tied her hair up again so it was out of her face and blew a stubborn cerulean strand that never seemed to be tied back. "OK, fine. Why do they think I don't like them?"

"Well, you don't talk, you're always with that damned goat—"

"Where is that damned goat by the way?"

"Sleeping on Corey's bed."

"Jesus, has that bastard already chosen someone he's known for two days over me?"

"Anyway. You're always with that damn goat, or having your headphones in, or... reading? Studying? What are you even doing? They don't wanna approach you, fam."

Tiffany huffed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "First of all, Cornelius is not a damn goat. He's a majestic being with an exquisite taste for Corey's bed, apparently. And secondly, I'm not avoiding anyone; I just like my own space."

Joey raised an eyebrow, a sceptical look on his face. "Space is cool, but you're on a tour bus, not a private jet. We're all in this together, you know?"

She sighed, leaning back in her seat. "I get it. It's just... I'm not great with people, you know? Small talk and all that. I'd rather be with Cornelius or studying."

Joey nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough, but they think you're some mystery they can't crack. Maybe if you let 'em in a bit, they'd see you're not all doom and gloom."

Clary smirked a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Doom and gloom? Me? Never."

He chuckled. "Look, I get it. We're a motley crew, but we're family on this tour. Just be you, and if they don't like it, screw 'em."

She pondered his words for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe I'll let them in a bit. But only a bit. I have a reputation to uphold, you know?"

Joey laughed, shaking his head. "Fair enough, Tiff. Just don't keep that tough exterior up all the time. We're not as scary as we look."

As they shared a laugh, Tiffany couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude for Joey's candid advice. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to let the rest of the band into her world, even if it meant sharing her adorable goat named Cornelius with them.