Chapter Text
Music. A thing that has accompanied humanity since decades. It was like a legal drug. Some people couldn't live without it, some even get a bit too much of a deep dive.
That was the case of Franklin. Music was everything to him, everything that he had left.
Franklin was into music since he remembered. While every one of his peers went to hang around or get into some shady stuff, Franklin preferred to sit next to his family’s radio. He was known to be a shy and quirky kid anyway. But with music? Franklin didn't care about anything else. His mind completely cut off everything around, only letting in the tune. It was his own world. Without an aunt that talked his ear off or those assholes, who always picked up a fight with him.
But life wasn't that easy. He couldn't just turn everything down and lost himself in beat. Then, Franklin met Lamar. At first, their friendship was much more pushed from the other’s side, but when they discovered their matching interest? They were almost unseparated. Friends, brothers and more importantly, future best musicians. At least that's what they hoped for- Or what Lamar always yapped about. A real band, not a local one that sings in random bars to just get cash to survive, no! A real big deal, with music that makes you wanna scream the lyrics out and a wave of fans waiting for you on the stage. And the stage? A big one, filled with their equipment and professional microphones. As kids they didn't know any better and dreamed about success.
After years, life taught them a rule number one: dreams don't exist. Their asses quickly learned that if you don't have money, you don't exist. You don't have a family of rich people with contacts in industry? Go play in bars and hope you will survive till the next day. Even if you had the voice of an angel, you will more likely end up under a bridge, taking drugs from a local dealer.
Which is the way they probably are going to end up, judging from the local Franklin is staring at.
“...I see it badly, homie” he muttered, as he stared with uncertainty at the old building. It looked like it either was abandoned or served as a drug spot. Or maybe both.
“What? It's perfect!”
Lamar leaned out from the van, filled with their equipment. Cables, loudspeakers, the mix station and other of their stuff. Far from something professional or expensive, but enough to even try.
“Mr. Grumpy already has some shit to say? If you have a better place, then go on!”
“Man, be careful with that!” Franklin felt his heart going out every time Lamar balanced his way towards him. This stuff wasn't newest, but that doesn't mean they need to break it! They can't afford anything new, without debt on their heads!
“I know what I'm doing”
“You said that last time and I needed to tape the screen”
“Details, homie”
He rolled his eyes, passing Franklin and going straight towards the doors.
“Now give me a hand, before I will kick the doors down-” the moment Lamar leaned against them, the doors gave away under the pressure and hit the floor.
Seriously? Franklin stared at the laying doors for a moment, then looked at Lamar with raised eyebrows. Is this a joke? Lamar only looked at him back.
“We would buy new doors anyway”
How Franklin didn't strangle him yet? He questions himself every day. Lamar was supposed to find them a place that could work as their studio- And admitting with shame, a place to sleep. Being a musician wasn't the best paid job and both of them took every possible job to earn money. “Trying” wasn't enough for Franklin's aunt, who waited for a perfect argument to kick him out of their house.
Now, Franklin wasn't sure if he didn't prefer living under a bridge than this.
“You coming or not?” Lamar was already inside. Judging from the loud thuds, putting down their stuff, hopefully in one piece.
“Already missing me?” he muttered under his breath, looking back towards the car “Chop, c’mere dog!”
He didn't need to wait long, when a black rottweiler jumped out of the car. Chop barked happily, running towards Franklin. Maybe his aunt threw him out, but at least Chop would never betray him- Aaand he already ran inside. Zero loyalty.
Franklin sighed, kneeling down to pick up his and Lamar’s bag filled with personal belongings. Maybe the building will look better inside? He really shouldn't grumble that much. Lamar tried to get them a nice place with his shady contacts- Franklin could only hope he wouldn't discover some debt with a local gang or some other troublesome shit. They already struggle with money, they don't need problems with criminals or police.
He headed inside- It wasn't that bad, really. It wasn't something big, the staircase inside led them on the upper level, presenting Franklin a flat like interior. One bigger room that was once a living room, connected with another room which was the kitchen and one smaller room, which was a bedroom. Of course, a small toilet was also there. It looked like a flat of a depressed old divorced white guy that has a middle life crisis. At least it's not filled with drug dealers.
“See? I said it's a great spot!” Lamar grinned, going out from the small bedroom- No apparently, serving them as a studio. Or the place where they stored their equipment, Franklin wouldn't go that far and call it a studio.
“It's fine I guess”
Franklin looked around, throwing the bags on the old couch. They need to buy sleeping bags or some blankets. There's no way he is sharing a couch with Lamar. The guy could hit you with his hand and say that he was lying still- Somehow always ending up in a weird position after waking up.
“You guess? Man, I worked my ass off to get this place!”
“I’m scared to ask from whom.”
“I already told you” Lamar spread out on the couch, looking up to stare at Franklin “My other homie, I know a guy that heard from his cousin, that had a homie that had drinks with the building owner.”
Obviously it's something that is complicated. Franklin wouldn't expect anything less.
“And that was a total legal deal?”
“Obviously? For who you take me for!”
A beat of silence, only interrupted by Chop’s sniffing.
“Okay, the guy may be part of some gang-”
“Lamar!”
“But that doesn't matter! We got this square and it's cool!” Lamar tried to defend himself, bringing his hands up “And he was a chill dude! Really, none of that bloody shit or whatever!”
“If we are going to end up in a crossfire again-”
“Last time it wasn't even a crossfire…”
“Yeah, because drug wars are totally normal!”
Franklin loved Lamar, really. He was to him like a brother. But sometimes he was also like a brother you want to strangle with the cable from your controller.
“Nah, this time it's a new start, homie!”
He jumped to his feet to grip Franklin's arms “Just imagine! We’re going to get that new track and get a word around. You already feel that cash and girls-”
“You're only about that, aren't you?” Franklin couldn't stop a snort.
“You are just such an emotional ass! Someone needs to be the popular one” this earned him a jab into his “With that shit I’m going to throw you out of the team!”
Obviously, Lamar only joked. Their team worked just like that, one wouldn't manage without the other. It was always like that. Franklin and Lamar against the shitty reality. And now, they could finally do something significant.
Only if they knew how much their life would change towards that goal. Going so differently than they imagined.
2004
Audience noise. Flashes of reflectors and chaos behind the curtains. Sweat, hoarse breaths and the adrenaline in my eyes. That was what life meant. Those were the times when people lived. When they finally took a breath of life.
— Sleepless nights, losing ground
I'm reachin' for you, you, you —
“Fucking FINNALY!” the man yelled out with a big smile on his face, as he walked across the backstage “Brad move your ass on the stage, unless you want me to kick your ass on it!” He shook his head around, almost smacking his friend with his hair.
“Maybe you should stop running around?”
“Don't tell me what I’m supposed to do!”
He rolled his eyes, suddenly slinging his arm around the blonde's arms. Both of them were wearing their stage outfits - jeans, shiny belts. Something that usually made other people glance at them nervously.
“Then calm the fuck down, Trevor”
Brad looked at his friend unimpressed, feeling like Trevor's jacket pinches his arm uncomfortably. Really, how is he wearing that?
Trevor only laughed loudly, bringing attention to the stage’s staff. Mostly the concerned gazes. That was normal, typical Trevor.
“NOW? No way! We are at fucking Ludendorff! I’M HIGH AS HELL AND I’M READY TO BRING EVERY OF THOSE FUCKERS WITH ME!” he cheered, almost spinning Brad around with him.
The excitement was understandable. Ludendorff wasn't any big or special town. However, it was the place where this year's Yankton music festival was held - a popular North Yankton’s event, which was like a golden bridge for not so known bands. A chance for a better future.
— Feelin' that it's gone
Can change your mind —
“Five minutes” a man with a schedule, looked up at them from the watch on his wrist. The last band was almost finished with their own time.
So that was it. The first big one.
Brad and Trevor looked at themselves, not being able to stop the excited smiles. That's how they're gonna start the best part of their lives. Them three-
“Wait, where's Mikey?” Trevor blinked, suddenly noticing the lack of their third member.
“He wasn't with you?” Brad raised an eyebrow. He thought that they were just… Busy with each other.
“If he would, I wouldn't be here”
“I didn't need to know that” he rolled his eyes, glancing towards the entrance to the stage. In a few minutes they were starting. Where the hell was Michael? If he wasn't with Trevor then where was he?
“Don’t be so sensitive! Besides, he is probably pushing the clothes on himself. Hey, maybe we should save some cash on a bigger size for him” Trevor laughed, clasping his hands together. For a second a shadow of worry went through his face. A stupid feeling. Mikey was always late for their practice. “Amanda wasn't happy…” or “Amanda said that I should”. It was annoying, sure, but Trevor learned to live with that, even if he wanted to say some sharp words.
Trevor could survive those delays or cancellations. It wasn't something new, since Michael had some duties. It was fine. Even if Michael seemed to avoid their plans. It was okay. Trevor could understand that, he always did. He could ignore the weird feeling in his chest, that always stung on excuses. Michael was still with Trevor, he was just busy at that moment. It was okay.
So why did he feel so shitty?
— If we can't go on
To survive the tide, love divides —
Reflectors always made him blind for a second
The loud cheer of loyal fans, that couldn't stop their growing excitement.
“And now, THE THREE OUTLAWS!”
The loud cheer, as they walked onto the stage. Trevor gripped his electric guitar, Brad took the drums and Michael…
Michael wasn't there.
The stand with the bass guitar was standing empty, staring back at Trevor. He couldn't tear his eyes back from the empty spot. Michael wasn't there. He didn't show up in the past five minutes and he wasn't running on the stage with an apology look. He just wasn't there.
Through the audience went a confused mutter. Was it some special move? Like a new song and an epic entrance for their favorite bass player?
Brad glanced hesitantly from the empty spot to Trevor. The man still didn't look away. He didn't move a string on his instrument, staring at the same place with an empty gaze. Trevor looked like he finally understood the reality.
Michael wasn't there and he won't be there.
— Someday love will find you
Break those chains that bind you
One night will remind you
How we touched and went our separate ways —
Life was unfair. But simple life wasn't the reason for it. Those were people living in it. Sometimes you could meet someone who cares, who makes that life a bit less unfair.
Sooner or later, that person will be just like everyone else anyway.
Michael wasn't there. Not only on their performance- Their big fucking dream -But in his house as well. It was empty, abandoned. The Townley family just disappeared. No contact, no trace.
“We will win that, T. Just you wait!” Michael squeezed his hands, smiling widely. It was just a day earlier. Nothing showed any signs. It was just…
Trevor wanted to punch someone. He wanted to get drunk or high or- or fucking both! He just wanted to forget. He wanted to get numb only to stop the suffocating feeling that settled in his chest. That made his hands shake and eyes less dry. He will never forget that snake! If he ever sees him, he will kill him.
Michael Townley was dead to him.
— If he ever hurts you
True love won't desert you
You know I still love you
Though we touched and went our separate ways —