Sonata

It was simply another night for the pioneers of melodies -this is clearly an effort to make it sound more eloquent- for day by day nothing too drastic was happening. 'Drastic' in their vocabulary was interpreted either as law or society; law in the degree that they were caught and were going to be put in jail, while drastic in terms of society meant rioting and/or copycats of the band that weren't as successful.

Other, much smaller bands in the scene were welcomed with open, tattooed, desperate arms, but weren't as gutsy as the top dogs or even as smart in their actions. Boys who played instruments for a crowd would brag about it later at a nearby bar or on the fucking street when they were at their wits' end to impress a pretty girl. They weren't aware of the cops that had been watching them from a distance because of the suspicious body art and belligerent behavior who would soon stop them in their tracks and hand out a ticket for even mentioning such legal activity. Well, perhaps not at a mere speaking, but you can bet that their bragging sparked the cops to inconspicuously follow them back and find any sign of song.

Then they got the ticket.

These actions made by musicians only caused face palms and curses to come from Bring Me The Horizon, for it made the road to recovery a more difficult one to pave. They couldn't loosen up in the smallest bit if jackasses with band names that included profanity and sex were fucking things up on a daily basis. But don't be totally swayed; the boys still suffered from moments that Einstein wouldn't mildly approve of.

For one: music blaring in the van.
Not even turned up as softly as possible for them to all equally enjoy without much danger, but blaring as if they wanted to be found out like all the other morons.

They all encompassed an obvious rebellious streak in the marrow in their bones; they were no pansies, and if they felt like doing something that they could possibly escape from within a split-second decision, then by god it would be indulged in. They could always win in a police chase, or try their damned best. It was figured that as long as they weren't out there with a boom box high in their hands imitating Lloyd Doppler, then they could get away with listening to genres in the privacy of the van.

Maybe you can find it in your heart to cut them some slack, for all of them are in the prime of their twenties and learn day-by-day. Not to mention how depriving it must be to only feed your ears with the sound of your own singing voice -or your bass, guitar, or drums- instead of the sound of your idols.

The laws were far beyond inhumane, so one who was deeply affected had to hold some once of fight in their body to defy such sickness. Any animal's first instinct is to protect themselves; to survive, and an attempt to take that away was a horrible one in vain. There could be so many laws put in place that could damage the sake of the common people even more, but through the pages of history it has been shown that the majority will not simply stand by to watch it happen.

Take for instance every country that was under control of another; all the wars and bloodshed that occurred in order to be granted back their independence. The 13 colonies from England. Texas from Mexico. Germany over almost all of Europe. Take into account slavery that had been abolished, or prohibition repealed as a lesson that you shouldn't take away people's alcohol.

In every instance, whether it was in the right or wrong, showcases the bond everyone forms when they feel that injustice is at hand. The government pushes the envelope as far as they can before its citizens roar for them to back the fuck up; that they will not stand for it.

This is the real checks and balance system.

People will do everything in their power before bowing to new legislation, and if the new, controversial regulation is still passed it's only because there are only a few passionate opposers instead of an entire nation. It won't be until more masses of people begin to give a shit that change is actually possible. Something big has to be done and getting in people's faces might be necessary, also.

This logic and mentality were sometimes found in Oli's conscience, especially right before or after a performance that felt more spectacular or due to a more powerful reaction from the crowd. It got him thinking whenever this happened, so much as to the point where he was stuck in a daze; a daydream of what possibilities and choices that could be made, and no one could get him out of it. He was consumed with ideas of music being free again and how he was a huge factor in the cause, and it boosted his ego being aware that fans absolutely depended on his bravery and strength on a nightly basis just so they could still wake up the next morning.
They could wake up with a new hope in their veins; something to look forward to.

Oli was their dealer and they payed his toll of knowingly breaking the law.

He took pride in such dedication only to the point of realizing that they really had no other choice, no other safer choice for that matter.It goes all the way back to the imitators who switched venues all the time because they were too fearful to stay in one place too long and didn't have as many followers. People couldn't trust them with their own safety; they were always mighty afraid that the cops would arrive within 10 minutes of their set and arrest all participants.

With Bring Me The Horizon, kids felt more secure in such a common surrounding as though nothing could harm them.

The only incident that ever occurred with the band being exposed was at their previous home at The Rabbit, another club. Some other place of service next door tipped off the police due to a simple noise violation and they came bursting through the entrance in the middle of a breakdown; barely noticed by anyone until Lee stopped playing.

He pointed them out to Oli, who looked ahead and saw three pigs in a mosh pin. They scattered through the backstage as the officers were overwhelmed by angst-filled show-goers and never returned there again. That was a close brush with death and one that didn't want to be encountered again, and especially for Tom who barely caught up with his fugitive friends who were in such a hurry they almost left him there if he didn't run so fast after the van.

The subject was brought up every now and then when one of them felt like being grounded and didn't want the underground fame to get to their head, as was happening on occasion. They were in the van at the very moment, and Curtis was thinking about it again. Nicholls was driving and he was the passenger as the rest of the band, Evelyn, and Tom chilled patiently in the back.

Curtis was staring at the red light that had just approached and waited for it to transform back to the emerald shade everyone else wanted. His fingertips tapped lightly against the dashboard to the music of Blink-182 and humming along as well; Nicholls looking over and watching.

It had been two more weeks since Matt and Corey's second confrontation, just to put things into perspective for you, and he seemed fine now. Him and Oli had a long talk (mostly consisting of Oli doing the talking), and was trying his best with things. If he wanted to be a part of the group, he'd have to jump on the Corey friendship bandwagon no matter what sort of thoughts of invasion popped into his head. He had to trust all his other friends that insisted that Corey wasn't out to be Oli; that he just wanted to help and be a part of the group.

Even though there was Oli's tattoo on his arm.
Even though he was talking like him.

Matt escaped those nagging warnings.

Curtis hit his shoulder and signaled for him to continue driving, to which he slowly eased his foot off the brake and let the van move forward. It was almost pitch black outside, probably around 6:30 since the days get shorter and shorter, and the show was in an hour. They were making good time and only had another 5-8 minutes of driving time before they arrived, then would have plenty more time to down some beers and get inebriated.

"Kin'a excited fer tonight."
Oli said.

He was turned towards Evelyn, who was sitting next to him in the last row, and she gave him a confused look to which he shrugged and stared out a neighboring window down the speeding highway that he wish he could drive on. He hadn't gotten skilled enough to do so yet, but he was almost. His nerves stopped him from attempting again so soon too after the last incident.

"Why?"
Lee beat her to the punch.

The conversation was open game to all in the vehicle; Tom and Kean ending their debate on if Superman was better than Spiderman just to tune in on the potential discussion at hand. With only a few words, Oli unintentionally gained everyone's attention either by being a natural-born speaker or the gained experience of being a front man.
He could have an entire room's ears on his words, his beliefs, his requests, or whatever else spewed from his mouth. It could be seen in the fans' eyes as they watched him possessing such charisma and grace walking back and forth across the stage preaching about music or in a simple setting just as this one in the van.

He was never regarded as someone who had no idea what he was talking about (even if he really didn't) due to his social strategy to always give off the image that he did no matter the topic at hand. Oli was very persuasive in that way; always ready to convince you to be enticed by his dreams and contortions of his mind if anyone would listen, even though he was damn aware that people were.

This was another instance to add; a grain of sand to throw into the Sahara that deepened the never-ending desert that could never be sorted through once entered. Once you were tangled up in the singer, you were in for a ride that wasn't going to end when you told it to.
Even if the field being addressed is simple conversing.

Oli continued to stare out the window as he spoke again.
"Dunno. Jus' sorta psyched, I reckon."

"Bull, wha'yeh got up yer sleeve?"

One would think that after being on thin ice, the curiosity to drown within the more risky Nicholls would have diminished for at least a little longer, instead it only increased, and he remained to have no issue to voice it. He was still the watcher; had always been, always would be, which was why he was the one to freak out over Corey in the first place.

He'd want to know everything.
He was looking out for people.
He expected answers.

Unfortunately and also ironically, he had decided to befriend a guy who would give him the complete opposite. His best mate was all about surprises and shocking people, he was about doing whatever the fuck he wanted and letting everyone find out about it later.
Oli wasn't interested in allowing people in on things unless it was unconditionally necessary, so whenever he had planned on something, he kept his mouth shut.

Of course, not without mysteriously bragging about it.

This is where him and Nicholls personalities' crossed paths, and not where the two would shake hands and keep moving. The kind that would glare back at the other, on the verge of a fight until one or the other would give in. The one always giving in though was Matt; Oli would never budge, once again, unless it was deemed critical, which it mostly never was.

The drummer still couldn't accept this "agree to disagree" aspect of their relationship, so when the older Sykes just shrugged his shoulders innocently from the back, where he could witness from the driver's seat through the rear view mirror, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Come off it Olleh an' tell us."

"Canna bloke jus' be anxious fer no reason?"

Matt scoffed,
"Not you."

"Oi, yer freakin' out ova nuthin' mate,"
Kean interjected coolly.

Nicholls' grip on the steering wheel tightened, and his foot fell a little more to speed up the van. He felt the itching desire to argue with both of his band mates even though he knew it was the worst idea thought by mankind. He could get more pissed off and accidentally send them slamming into the median; becoming puffer fish.

You know, the kind that shoot out their spikes when they're in danger, except it would be their bones splitting past their skin.

He didn't want to become a human version of a fish like that, and definitely not any of his other friends, so he took the high road; a lesson he had learned recently due to his dumb mistakes and foolish pride. Maybe Oli really was just feeling elated unknowingly.
He had to have more faith in his friend, it seemed.

So, he dropped the subject.
Tom uttered that Superman was a pussy in spandex and that fueled Kean to laugh degradedly and prove him wrong with his own opinion.
Oli was making Evelyn chuckle by whispering in her ear before he began to stop and opted to hold her hand instead as they looked out opposite directions, and Curtis was easily fascinated by the lights of the world and other cars driving along side him; trying to get from one place to another just like they were.
Matt made sure they didn't crash into a long strip of concrete.

[&&&]

"This feels like deja vu."

"We've walked down 'ere many times."

"I know, but it just feels...different, I guess. It's only you and I."

The only couple within the group were still holding hands from when they were in the van and had walked behind everyone else as they hurried to get to the bar. It was a mutual agreement to calm their pace to allow the others to leave them behind, and the two didn't mind it at all.

They had returned to the stairwell that may as well have united them. It was their first time being all alone even though they had just met not too long before; when Oli pulled Evelyn away from the club guard Tony. They never talked about it again, and yet they were both thinking back to it now with small chuckles about to bubble from their lips.

Oli couldn't help himself.
"Eh babe, yeh can't go any farther 'til yeh show meh yer tits."

He had moved a couple of feet in front of her and spread his arms out to grab each side of the small pathway; not leaving any room for Evelyn to get past. She rolled her eyes and giggled while trying to push past her light-hearted boyfriend, who stood his ground.

He couldn't help but laugh as she tried her best to go under his arm or move his entire torso to the side, but it just wasn't working to even give her hope. She stared at him while blowing a stray strand of hair from her eyes, to which he looked back expectantly.

"'m serious; show meh the knockas."

"Shut up Oli and let me through."
She replied playfully.

He shook his head, and then she tried one more time to get past by where his hand held the wall until Oli suddenly wrapped it around her body and carefully forced her against the opposing one; the stair railing hitting the small of her back. She was shrieking with laughter as he tickled her stomach; his hands going under the fabric of her shirt to caress the skin of her abdomen.

"Oh my god, I'm not joking, STOP IT!! I can't breathe!"

His teeth illuminated the growing darkness within the stairwell; the lights that kept it visible to pass through were somewhat far away, but you could still make out the figures and such. Oli's face grew steadily closer to his red faced girlfriend's as he planted a kiss on her cheek; both still laughing.

Things were becoming quiet though, and stopped with a halt when an unexpected light bulb from above them turned on and revealed the details of their figures more intricately. It was the first time that they saw the other as clearly as possible, and their smiles in seeing it could make use of the lights unnecessary.

They kissed lips softly alone on the stairs.

It was a familiar feeling that, yet, never became old with practice. The act only got better and better with each session. Their movements were always in sync; their hands eventually getting into hair and lightly scratching scalps or holding onto their fragile being tightly as though it were liquid that could slip between the fingers.

Evelyn slipped her's beneath her lover's shirt just like he had moments ago and lifted it up. She wasn't intending on having sex right there in a public entryway, even though it would make sense because they were halted from doing it at her house. Evelyn merely wanted to stare at his tattoos again, and Oli seemed to understand that after two seconds as he allowed her to analyze him.

With one hand holding up his clothing, she used the other as a tracer to feel every inch of his front top half. The colors that could now be viewed beneath a helpful light just blared out at her, as though they were screaming towards her. They were silent.

She glanced down lower, by the hem of his denim jeans, and saw one that was managed to be missed by her line of vision. It was a reasonable mistake because even though it was her boyfriend, her first instinct wasn't to examine that far down, and also because it was writing in black ink that sat in the shadow of the more vibrant shades.

It was the simple word "Reckless", and she realized that that was the word to describe him. On occasion, individuals are asked what one word they pick to identify themselves with; this was Oli's. He didn't give a shit about anything that was in the way of what he wanted, and was willing to do all he could for his desires.
Not that it was a bad thing...sometimes.

"Wha'?"
He whispered distantly.

Evelyn trailed her eyes back up to his.

"I never saw this one before,"
She said while moving her touch over the letters again.

Oli shivered from the sensation so close to his belt.

"Yeh almos' got teh that night."

A painful reminder in both of their pants.
If they were somewhere private, they very well would have cut past all the foreplay and fucked, but Evelyn definitely wasn't outgoing enough to do any dirty business where a stranger could easily walk in on them. She didn't know if Oli would ever be interested in that sort of thing either, but from his completely motionless stature, it didn't look like he was.

If he went after what he wanted, irregardless of the consequences, then the answer was most-likely in front of her.
She let go of the hem of his shirt and it fell back into place; her hands now occupied with the depths of her jean pockets and walking ahead, still childishly worried that he wouldn't let her through unless she took off her shirt.

He followed silently behind, and they made it to the bottom of the staircase in no time, where the other boys were easily found by their simply cantankerous behavior of cheering their heads off when the two arrived by their side. They were well on their way to wasted.

"Oi Olleh, sit ova 'ere!"

It was Curtis with that same overly-goofy grin with a beer in one hand and his other one waving around like a flag in the middle of a heavy storm. He offered his friend the empty chair to his right, but the singer just shook his head and gently pushed Evelyn in front of him.

"Nah, 'm alrigh'. Eve, yeh can sit down."

She glanced back over at Oli to make sure it was okay, then when sure that it was, crossed over to the seat and became the missing link to the round table. Her boyfriend followed and stood behind to be able to stare over all his peers and enjoy the company while still remaining free to leave whenever he pleased even though he wouldn't.

Oli wasn't drawn to join in on the drunken stupors; he, once again, wanted to remain sober enough to know what the fuck he was doing on stage instead of making an intoxicated fool out of himself like he had done in the beginning. Things had become different over time, and with that, he had to change himself. He couldn't bellow and stumble across the stage, almost losing his shit, and expect people to stay to listen and watch.

He had gained a certain respect and needed to maintain his reputation as a presentable front man. A presentable front man who cursed out his ass and waved the finger around throughout the band's entire set, but that was the type of presentable that people expected from him. What they didn't want was for him to be tripping over his feet or losing shoes.

So he tried to drink only a glass or two to take the edge off, but not completely drown his intuitions.

He noticed his brother sitting at one end of the table with hollow eyes scanning the other individuals roaming idly until a show was going to begin. Sometimes he would fall back into this persona of not saying a word, returning to the shelled Tom that deflected new people and lingered in a mental darkness and there was nothing anyone could really do about it.

The timid shield had morphed into another half of his personality, and it arrived whenever it aspired to. It could linger for only a few moments or a few hours, but it's not as if Tom made an effort himself to change it from getting out of his life permanently.
Everyone has flaws with their actions that can never be altered, only dealt with stubbornly or by sulking.

If humans could be perfect, wouldn't they already be?
If people could change the way they are for the better, wouldn't they?

There are elements of your psyche that will not budge by purely acknowledging it; they are stone in your mind and will not melt or disintegrate. They are there to stay, so the only way to better yourself is to accept their occasional presence and learn to live with it by always telling yourself that you're not the only one to suffer from inner intruders.

Tom then rose from his spot at the table and made his way towards his post at the merch booth close by. There were boxes upon boxes flooding the top and the bottom of t-shirts, hoodies, wristbands, anything that promoted the band that could be worn on your body.
It may have been a dumb idea, but so far it hadn't gotten them in very much trouble and they were profiting.

They had the means also, so it seemed like a win/win.

His brother ended up joining his side to help with the weight of those massive anchors, to which Tom gave a thankful smile. No matter what happened, when it was just him and Oli, things were normal every time. Being related meant that the other sibling had seen you at your worst, best, and everything in between, and if you were extremely close from the start, they are practically the other half of your damaged soul.

The brothers didn't even have to say a word to know what was going on in the other's head, and Oli knew that about Tom at the time. He knew that his baby brother was quiet now and then, and he didn't try to get a reason out of him when there clearly wasn't one.

Anyone else would think that something was wrong, but Oli had more time and experience to say no, nothing was. Give him some time and he'll surely be fine again.

"Yeh alrigh' Tommeh?"

Even though he always asked for good measure.

The blue-eyed boy nodded while proceeding to stack boxes on top of one another to get organized for the rush of kids that were just waiting to give him their money in exchange for an article of fabric. Oli finally sat down in the chair right next to the table and watched; assuming that Tom had everything under control again.
As he picked up box after box, there was one on the very bottom still taped up. Staring at it curiously, he glimpsed back at his brother for any possible important information as to what it was, and Oli made an all-knowing epiphany expression.

"Ah, the cds."

"...cds?"
Tom asked.

"Teh sell."

He got up again and grabbed the cryptic box before Tom could, put it up on the surface, and reached around in his back pocket to grab an object his brother was assuming would be used in the opening of the cardboard and tape. Oli in fact had a Swiss army knife, almost as though he had been expecting for this to happen.

As the blade skied through the half of the adhesive protector, the flaps of the box were slowly flowing away from the center to reveal naked cases with only a blank CD inside each one; completely devoid of any album art or writing. Oli patted his brother on the back and gave him orders.

"When someone buys sum'fing, give 'em one of these."

The younger Sykes nodded obediently, and with that, Oli left his brother there for everyone to swarm around and buy products, and unknowingly also receive a CD that held the band's music.
All he could think was Please don't let this backfire...

Ten Days Later

Headline: A Release of Illegality
"In the city of Wilcom, it seems as though breaking the law is becoming all the rage. A peaceful town as such cluttered with angst-filled preteens is a recipe for disaster and a headline in the making. Well...here's your headline. In the past week there have been reports of 'heavy and disturbing music' coursing through the city's airwaves; in need of some equally powerful explaining.

As a reminder, law #3287448 passed a year ago states that all music was prohibited within city limits, and if found violating the regulation would be fined or jailed if a continuous aggressor. Wilcom has had their hands full recently with filling out report after report of citizens rebelling against the law all of the sudden, and with tough resistance.

The majority have merely gotten tickets for their actions, but one 21-yr-old by the name of Sam Carter has pushed the envelope by playing shrilling guitars and booming voices over his place of business' intercom system at the local Wilcom grocery store. When authorities arrived on the scene after a livid telephone call from the store owner, they questioned Carter about where he had gotten the blank CD, the blonde-haired suspect shrugged and said it had been given to him by one of his friends; telling the police that it gave him orders to do what he had just done.
Carter was then taken into custody for more extensive questioning.

Another young adult by the name of Tony Stevens was arrested after being seen by a abiding citizen for moving musical equipment from a seemingly empty building around the early morning hours of 2-3 AM, who denied the claims the next day when he was visited by the WPD at his private residence. They found 2 guitars, bass, and drum set in his garage once a search warrant was granted.

The occurrences do not stop here, however. It is apparent that more and more reports of so-called 'metal' music are springing up left and right from every corner of Wilcom, and even lightly in the metropolitan area as well. Local and city police are working together to discover the source of all the mysterious vacant cds with only 3 songs in their capacity.

We here at The Wilcom Newsletter will keep you on a day-to-day update on the case, with quick intent on letting you know who the mastermind(s) of this plot are..."

-Stacey Jones
Journalist