The Real World |5sos fanfic|

Part 2- Practice More, Mistake Less

The bar was deserted. The mood was sour. The orders were few. The music was terrible.

I leaned with my head resting on the wall behind the bar. Blissfully caught up in my own world, numb to the excruciatingly painful reality in front of me.

Only twelve people had shown up to see this band tonight. My first suspicions had been correct; a rock band. Of some sort. Brutally slaying Blink and Greenday covers. I found myself humming along to the parts I knew subconsciously. Maybe they weren't that bad, just inexperienced. They looked around the same age as myself, but that's all I could make out from the awful lighting and excessive smoke machines.

I laughed to myself. What was I doing here? I could be at home, studying, preparing myself for my future but instead, as always, I was caught drowning in my own thoughts, wasting the present.

A man banged his glass down on the counter signaling for another drink. I didn't move, I let one of the others deal with his request. I wondered what he thought of the foolish young boys standing on the small platform at the far end of the room. Did he silently pray for them to stop? Did he admire their courage? You would never truly know what goes on inside someone else's head. Maybe he thought they were crazy and stupid for being naive and thinking they could make it in the music world. That's how I felt anyway.

I have seen band after band come in and out, week after week and nothing changes. That's the heart breaking think about dreams and reality; they rarely ever cross paths.

*

After another 40 minutes of under practiced, teenage rage, the band thanked the audience and said they would play one last song.

My throbbing head was relieved. I pushed myself off the wall for the first time in at least an hour to actually do some work.

I walked from table to table gathering empty glasses and bottles, carrying them to the bar and wiping up spills.

'That's my son up there!' a beaming blond woman chirped as I gathered empty beverages from a table of four middle aged women. I knew well enough these were the mothers of the band. Sitting in the 'front row', clapping after every break in play, not criticizing the off notes or bad guitar playing.

I mustered a smile. 'You must be very proud.' I walked away rolling my eyes.

I was tired and jealous. I wished I had a mother who cared like that.

I must have fazed out of reality for a lot longer than I had planned because the mess I had collected and planned to deal with was already done. That meant I was left to do the bins.

Maybe I should start paying more attention to the real world.

*

I chanced leaving without a coat and I only slightly regretted it. The wind wasn't icy just chilly.

I grabbed the heavy bags filled with half eaten Nachos and chips in my hands. Two bags per hand at the end of two out stretched arms.

The bin was at the top of the ally. The ally was dark and empty. Normally. Although tonight, band night, there was always car of some sort collecting equipment. It's headlights shone in the direction of the bins but it blocked the narrow passage of the backstreet.

I sighed, left down the bags and turned sharply on my heels. Straight into someone.

The impact threw me backwards. Maybe if I wasn't so tired I would have been able to hold myself up. This time though I just fell back like a lifeless doll. I was to tired to even say anything, I just stared up at the tall boy in front of me clutching equipment.