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nooly, she/her, 24.

come talk to me abt aftg!

— there's something about you that makes me want to open up.

K.
bramlouisgreenfeld / bramlouisgreenfeld

end of the road; chapter one

reneewvlkers:

summary: Neil’s just trying to avoid the bright lights of tour, but it’s hard when everyone’s living on top of each other and, despite the existence of one Andrew Minyard, he’s managed to make himself the resident mystery.

word count: 9551

(ao3)

“Neil, yes?” A blonde man, who looks startlingly, terrifyingly familiar, says.

Neil makes a confused gesture, hoping his panic isn’t immediately evident. He’d ditched his name badge as soon after training as he could. “Yeah? And you are?”

The man raises his eyebrows, unimpressed by- something; Neil’s attempt at covering his fear, his lack of recognition, his appearance. The blank looks jars a memory, a still face in a shot of moving colours and lights.

“Oh, I recognise you. The rock star. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, yeah?” Neil asks, with an almost ironic blank smile. He’s known too many of the type not to be jaded by them. They’re all the same; preaching about how it’s all for the music, how it’s about integrity and authenticity and, above all, about the sound. Then they fall into the pit of fame, or lack of it, and- well, at least the downward spirals sometimes vary. Alcohol, drugs, abuse, adultery, mental instability - Neil’s seen it all. He’s been on the receiving end of the worst of it.

Well, Neil hasn’t. But his old personas have. Neil’s just here for his pay; low wage, but cash under the table, no questions asked. He was hired because he doesn’t flinch at any face that comes through the door, injured, famous, tattooed, infamous, whatever.

But the other man just stares. The calm on his face has to be manufactured somehow, because not a single muscle on his face moves. Drugs, Neil thinks, then remembers who he’s looking at. Andrew, he guesses, of the Monsters. Mental instability, he corrects himself before taking in the cracker dust he ordered. Mental instability and drugs.

“You play guitar?” Maybe-Andrew asks, blatantly ignoring Neil’s question.

“What?” Neil asks, hoping his panic is covered by how out-of-the-blue the question is. “No.”

“Don’t lie,” Andrew replies, and it’s only then Neil realises that the blank tone Andrew had spoken it meant it hadn’t been a question. “We heard you. Yesterday.”

“We?” Neil casts his mind back frantically, and… yes. He picked up a guitar someone had left at a booth to pull into safety, and when there was no one in the kitchen, he’d strummed. It had been the end of his shift and he was supposed to lock up. He had thought he’d been alone. Stupid, he thinks.

Andrew ignores that. “Our guitar tech just got arrested and we’re going on tour tomorrow. There’s no one we can get, so that means we need anyone who knows their way around a guitar. That means you.”


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