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Post by poppy on Dec 19, 2011 0:46:55 GMT
The world around Tobias spun around, his blood shot eyes stared blankly; his pupils, like holes burrowed into the centre of the earth. His vision was blurred and he couldn’t focus. His hair, damp with sweat, stuck to his forehead. His mouth, slightly ajar as his jaw chewed slightly on something that didn’t exist. His hand loosely held a glass which contained whiskey. He moved haphazardly through the crowd; ignoring a few people who tried to speak to him. His feet were uncoordinated and his gait was ataxic as he stumbled through the club to the toilets. Why he thought it was a good idea to go and take something else was no one’s business, but in Tobias’ messed up world it made perfect sense.
He fell through the toilet door, clutching onto the door frame as he went. Toby pulled out a bag of two pills; not really caring who was watching him, or what it would do to him. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind, that if he was snapped the way he looked now, his band mates wouldn’t be happy with him, but that was the worst that could happen, and most of the press knew better than to try and bother him when he was drunk. He was a very honest drunk. It wasn’t something that you really wanted to experience if you could help it; unless of course Tobias liked you, and then he was your very own drunken high best friend.
He opened the bag and poured out the two pills, one dropping onto the floor. He put one in his mouth and swallowed it with the whiskey before getting onto his hands and knees to find the other. Once he’d found it, it too went into his mouth and down the hatchet. He left the empty whiskey glass on the side before leaving the bathroom, and heading back down to the dance floor. Music was the best drug in the world, other than sex, but in the state he was in right now, it was unlikely that sex would be on the cards. He knew in this state that he’d not really be able to perform and so there was no point in really trying.
Tobias moved around in the crowd; jumping up and down and moving his head back and forth to the heavy bass line. He was completely saturated in his own euphoria that he didn’t even notice what was happening around him. The club was closing, and the people were beginning to file out. He followed in sync and once he was outside in the fresh air, he slumped down on a set of steps, and tried and failed miserably to light a cigarette.
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Post by logan on Dec 30, 2011 21:43:34 GMT
I'VE BEEN BEATEN, I'VE BEEN BRUISED
- - - - - - - - - - I'VE BEEN LEFT FOR DEAD AS WELLIt was cute, really, how people forgot that they were supposed to have morals. Clubs were good for that. Being a musician in a club was even better. People, girls especially, tended to forget about their morals for the night if they got a chance to fuck someone famous. Apparently, when you were famous, you were sexier than a normal person. Or maybe it was just because Logan played the guitar. Either way, he'd been fending people off of him pretty much since he'd got here. He was fairly sure that not even all of these people knew who he was -- they just saw something they liked and went for it. Unluckily for them, Logan wasn't in the mood for an easy lay tonight. Tonight, he wanted a challenge, and he would find it at some point, he was sure. Until then, he could sit around the bar and bullshit with a few guys that didn't want in his pants, he could be dragged away to dance with a group of girls that did. Whatever. He was just coasting around until a better opportunity presented itself. At some point, he even found himself making out with some pretty redhead, only to be separated from her thanks to the crowd of the club. How tragic.
In all honesty, Logan didn't have any idea what he was doing there. He didn't even feel like clubbing, and he certainly didn't feel like clubbing alone. He wanted one of his bandmates with him so he'd have someone to actually talk to, but none of them were. They might be if he'd thought to invite them, but he hadn't. As a matter of fact, he should probably be back at the bus so he could hear his phone if it went off. Cale and Caity had left somewhere shortly before he'd come here, so, really, it was best to have his phone on him. Just in case they got their asses thrown in jail... again. They had a tendency to do that. It was puzzling. How did two people get in so much damn trouble? And why did he always bail them out? It might make them actually learn something if they had to stick around in jail for a day. Maybe he should let them. It'd be one less trip for him. Of course, he knew he wouldn't. He couldn't do that to Caity and Cale. Caity was his best friend, and, as much as he sometimes wanted to punch Cale in the face, he was a good guy. He cared about the people around him, all that good shit. Which somehow meant that Logan felt the need to keep him out of trouble. Sometimes, he swore, even he didn't know how the fuck his mind worked.
Maybe he should just leave. The crowd and the occasional people coming up and asking for his autograph were starting to grate on his nerves. When it had all first begun, he'd always though that he could get used to this life, he could learn to love it, but as the days went on, he wasn't so sure. Shouldn't he love it? It was everything he'd wanted. It had sex, it had drugs, alcohol, whatever he wanted in arm's reach. So many people knew who he was or who he was affiliated with, at the very least. Maybe that was, in fact, the problem. Maybe he didn't want people to know who he was, what he did, where he lived. No, he knew he didn't. He wanted the benefits, not the fame, but he couldn't have the benefits without the fame. There was absolutely no way for him to win. From the beginning, he hadn't wanted the fame. Injected Hopeless had just started gaining recognition, and he'd ignored it, wrapped up in his own world of playing the guitar and trying to forget the events preceding his move to Bell. It was even working. Sometimes he could forget about them completely. They always returned, though, never too far from his conscious mind, or his subconscious one, for that matter. Whatever happened, though, he hadn't asked for the fame. It was just suddenly... there. He'd thought about leaving the band before, but he couldn't. It was all he had.
Yeah, he needed to get out of the club. All of sudden, he felt like he was suffocating, and, naturally, he didn't like it one bit. He ripped his arm out of the grasp of some girl trying to permanently attach herself to it, without so much as an apology, and tore out of the club -- it was closing anyways. He didn't want to go back to the bus yet, though, so he was faced with a dilemma. The unsure blond ended up pacing back and forth on the sidewalk outside while various people filed out. Some of the ones that had been hanging around him inside asked if he needed a ride home, but he told them just where they could shove it. He wasn't in the mood to deal with any of their company right now. He just needed somewhere to be right now. Eventually, people stopped coming out, and, a short ways away from Logan's designated pacing area, there was a guy sitting on some steps... trying and failing to light a cigarette. What better time to be a good Samaritan when he had nothing to do, right? So, the guitarist strode over and took a seat next to the man with the lighter. "Hold it out, kid," he said, taking a lighter out of his own pocket. The guy didn't look so good, and he probably didn't need a cigarette, but oh well. If he wanted one, who was Logan to question it? He certainly wasn't about to turn over a new leaf and begin to care about the well-being of complete strangers. He was just having a rare moment of helpfulness so he could cross it off his annual to-do list. One kind gesture. Done. music. break - three days grace.
words. 1,000.
lyrics. the westerner - falling in reverse.
tag. tobias/poppy. <3
notes. -- |
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Post by poppy on Jan 2, 2012 18:29:23 GMT
Tobias sat on the step, ignoring the people walking past him, talking to or about him and continued the difficult task of trying to light the cigarette. It was harder than he’d ever thought, but it kept him focused; just like the drugs he’d taken. Focused on not thinking about Alexis, the love of his life who’d seemingly gotten rid of his baby three years ago. It just needed to be blanked out; for the good of his mental health, and excessive drinking and drugs was the only way he knew how. He was about to give up, and throw his lighter to the ground when a voice echoed into his head. He looked up; his vision slightly blurred as he smiled lopsidedly at the blonde angel offering him a light. He held out the cigarette and allowed the stranger to light it. He took a draw of his cigarette and closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back on the step as he exhaled.
He sat up straight and frowned a little, before standing up, and attempting to stagger down the steps; his legs giving way regularly. ”Thanks dude.” He muttered, his words slurred as he miraculously descended the four steps without falling. A permanent smile fell across his face and he struggled to orientate himself. ”Where the fuck is my bus?” He asked the blonde stranger, as he spun to view him; his body swaying slightly as he took another draw of the cancerous stick. His mind was a million miles away and he could no longer make sense out of anything logical. He was clueless and warm as the drugs seared through his veins and burnt out his memory. He muttered something under his breath and walked a few steps along the pavement before stopping and turning around to face the helpful stranger and a few stragglers who were coming out of the club. ”You all want to screw me! Just because I’m famous; well you’re not getting in these pants.” He laughed, shaking his head and spun back around before landing himself flat on the ground.
Toby wasn’t exactly graceful but he wasn’t clumsy usually. This was just drug and alcohol related. He lay on the ground for a few moments; his forehead and nose sporting a nice graze. He got to his knees and pulled on the wall to help him up; figuring that he would be okay to stand but just like before his body tried to take a nose dive forward. Only this time he managed to catch his balance. Toby looked up at the blonde man and rolled his eyes, ”You gonna help me or just watch?” He wasn’t himself. Tobias Oakley rarely asked for help; he rarely asked for anything and yet here he was asking a stranger to help him get home.
But even in his intoxicated state, he was convinced that the stranger was not in fact a stranger but someone he’d met before. Only he couldn’t place him. It then dawned on Toby that it was probably that the blonde guy was his fan. It was the only explanation in his head. ”So are you like, my biggest fan or something?” He asked smirking a little before he took another draw from his cigarette. ”I think someone’s spiked me or something.” He continued; his words slurring and his blood shot eyes unable to hold focus. This was the guy who he hated being, and yet once again he’d allowed himself to become him; an intoxicated mess.
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