Where Is The Smoke When You Need It?

"And We're Here Only To Lose"

"And unfortunately ladies and gentlemen, the show has come to an end!" Ville speaks softly into the microphone, seeing the people pout slightly. It always saddened him to end a show, that he couldn't continue much longer. He wanted to continue for eternity, but immortality, unfortunately, doesn't exist on Earth, nor anywhere else. Plus, his vocal cords would probably give out and he wouldn't be able to sing.

"The audience has seem to become disappointed, who said I was leaving yet, I'd like to make a small little speech." Ville winks, and a boat load of girls fawn desperately over him, trying to catch attention by screaming so loudly, that his eardrums pop.

"So, I'd like to say, that if you are depressed, or at a bad moment in your life, it isn't music who saved you, nor another person. You are the one that can pull yourself out of it, you are the one that saved yourself." The crowd screeches once more, and Ville sits on the edge of the stage, swinging his legs back and forth.

"And I see girls and some guys at shows, that come up to me and say that 'I saved their life', no, no I didn't. I just sing in a band that creates music for audiences, as I said before, you are the one that saved yourself." Ville sighs, and lays down, staring up at the lights above the stage under him.

"Shit, the world is a cruel place," Ville says for the last time, and exits the stage, handing the microphone off to the backstage worker and wiping the dropping sweat off his forehead. His puffy brown hair sits at his shoulders, and his scarf tugs unpleasantly at his neck. Ville scratches his head and approaches the dressing room, finding his band mates drinking already. Deciding to ignore them, he grasps onto a cigarette and  lighter.

Ville steps outside of the venue in Ohio, blinking a bit as he sees a girl walk past with a guy. He chuckles to himself at the couple, eyeing their hands intertwined together. It was a late, late night out in Ohio and it was cold.

He lights his cigarette, inhaling the addicting substance and exhales the flames. He spots a girl will black hair trailing down her back, climb out of the bus and walk towards the venue with some sort of work clothes on.

"Miss?" Amy turns around, already exhausted from working with her mother all day. She stands out in the cold, eyeing the man with a cigarette between his pointer and middle finger.

"Who are you, and what do you want? Money? I don't have any money, and there's no point in that I need all that I get." Ville stands biting his tongue, squinting in the darkness.

"No, I wanted to tell you that our show is over if you wanted to know."

"I work here, and my shift starts in ten minutes, please stop bothering me." Ville stomps his cigarette out and goes through the doors of the back entrance, spotting a security guard next to the dressing room door.

"Can you tell me if you see a girl with pitch black hair make her way through the venue? I'd like to speak with her if you don't mind, just a little conversation I'd like to have."

"You mean Amy? Yeah sure, she usually works after the people who came to the show leave, so wait about fifteen minutes." Amy huh? Ville clucks, chugging back to the dressing room and smiling to himself like a freak. He changes into something more casual, a plain black beanie with his usual scarf, jeans, and a jacket. He exits the room, casually strolling through the halls and greeting numerous workers.

"So, were you looking for me?" She stands with a mop balanced against the wall with a cleaning cart next to her. "Did you figure I was the bartender for the bands? Because I'm not." Amy picks up the mop and sticks it in the lower bucket, and starts mopping the area around them.

Ville admits, he did think she was going to be some cater for the bands, but by the look on her face, she wasn't in a joking mood. "Look, Amy.. I just want to have a nice.. long.. conversation about this." She stands there, confused.

"Rephrase that please."

"Look, I just want to have a damn conversation, my band mates are already drunk and I just wanted to get away from a while, isn't that okay?" Amy thinks for a moment, stunned at his little outbreak in front of her. Did he want to spend some quality time with the poor, lonely, cleaner that borrows money from her brother that insists that its okay? Did he want her whole life story on how she became a cleaning lady that was always tired, always had bags under her eyes?

"You heard of  The Cure?" Ville raises his eyebrows in amusement as he nods, a sickly sweet smile painting his face.

"What wondrous music have they created," Amy agrees silently, putting the mop back in the cleaning cart and rolling it over to the stage.

"I'm quite fond of HIM, heard of them?"

"Isn't the lead singer just dazzling, they played a show here tonight ya hear?"

"Yeah, wasn't aloud to come in though, they made me work after hours today so, sadly missed it. They'll come back to Ohio I'm sure." Ville chuckles quietly, staring at the cleaning cart.

"Did you know, that the lead singer is in this very room with you?"

"No shit, you're standing in front of me." Amy purses her lips, snatching the broom and sweeping across the stage. Ville frowns at her change in attitude, crossing his arms.

"Why are you still here? Go smoke a cancer stick and get drunk, so I can get my cleaning done quick and I can catch a bus."

"Pfft, a bus! What kind of transportation is that!"

"My form, now go away."

"I'll take you home."

"Go away."

"But-"

"Do I need to spell out two simple words? You are fucking killing me, go away so I can get done and get back to my suck ass life."