The Other People
Old and New
"Miva!"
"Rachel, wow! You look amazing! Your hair is. . .black!"
"Yeah! You look great yourself!"
Indeed, he did. The tall, lanky guitarist had packed on muscles, and his hair was electric blue - not much of a change from the last time I'd seen him, when it was purple.But he'd let it grow out. He also had another lip piercing in his bottom lip. That made three now.
"Where're the others?"
"Getting good. Where are your bandmates?"
"Same. Maybe they ran into each other."
"Possibly. I heard about Micah."
"Oh. Yeah."
"How is Matt dealing?"
"He's doing okay. There are days when he doesn't want to do anything, 'cause he misses Micah, but that's to be expected."
"I probably would do the same if any of my brothers and sisters died."
"You have siblings?"
"Yes. Four sisters, two brothers. What about you?"
"Wow. I'm an only child."
"Rachel!"
I suddenly became the middle of a three-way Russian sandwich as Vladimir, Renj, and Katiana tackled me with hugs simultaneously. A laugh escape me while all the air was squeezed out of me.
"Guys! I can't breathe."
They released me, and that allowed me to get a good look at them. The vocalist, Renj, hadn't changed much. He was maybe a few inches taller, but his hazel eyes, outlined in heavy kohl, still shone brightly between thick black lashes. His piercings were still there: two in his lip, one in his left eyebrow, and six in each ear. His black hair hung in his eyes, in casual disarray. He was still chubby. Cue anime-chibi-happy-face (*^-^*)
Katiana, the drummer, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. Her long brown hair had been chopped off and dyed bubble-gum pink. Her blue eyes were accentuated by the silver eyeliner, and white powder-shimmer dusted her eyelids and spread to her temples. She'd gotten a tattoo on her neck that I couldn't read, since it was in Russian. She was wearing a bright yellow jumper and white tights, with high-heeled fluorescent blue boots. About thirty jelly bracelets, all in rainbow colours, dangled from her slender wrists.
Vlad, bass-playing extraordinaire, still had short hair gelled into a small mohawk on the top of his head. He had put blonde streaks in the black, and he'd gotten more muscles, much like Miva. His brown eyes were rimmed with kohl, but not as thick as Miva or Renj's.
I realised then how much different I must have been to them. I still hadn't gained back all the weight I'd lost after Micah's death, and my platinum-blonde hair had, of course, been dyed black. If it were possible, my five-foot-seven stature had seemed to shrink, but that could have been due to lack of body fat. I was wearing black track pants and a t-shirt I had made with my free time on vacation. It had the iron-on logos for Cinema Bizarre, Emotionless Prison, and Tokio Hotel decorating it. I was also wearing flip-flops, something I never wore.
"You all look amazing," Kat gushed.
"Thank you, you do, too. What's that tat mean?"
"It means Angels, and it has the initials of these three."
"Ah. It's sweet as Hell. I want another tattoo."
"Let's go get one."
"Seriously?"
"Yes! I will pay, since I know the Russian currency, and you do not."
"Um. . .okay!"
"Rachel, wow! You look amazing! Your hair is. . .black!"
"Yeah! You look great yourself!"
Indeed, he did. The tall, lanky guitarist had packed on muscles, and his hair was electric blue - not much of a change from the last time I'd seen him, when it was purple.But he'd let it grow out. He also had another lip piercing in his bottom lip. That made three now.
"Where're the others?"
"Getting good. Where are your bandmates?"
"Same. Maybe they ran into each other."
"Possibly. I heard about Micah."
"Oh. Yeah."
"How is Matt dealing?"
"He's doing okay. There are days when he doesn't want to do anything, 'cause he misses Micah, but that's to be expected."
"I probably would do the same if any of my brothers and sisters died."
"You have siblings?"
"Yes. Four sisters, two brothers. What about you?"
"Wow. I'm an only child."
"Rachel!"
I suddenly became the middle of a three-way Russian sandwich as Vladimir, Renj, and Katiana tackled me with hugs simultaneously. A laugh escape me while all the air was squeezed out of me.
"Guys! I can't breathe."
They released me, and that allowed me to get a good look at them. The vocalist, Renj, hadn't changed much. He was maybe a few inches taller, but his hazel eyes, outlined in heavy kohl, still shone brightly between thick black lashes. His piercings were still there: two in his lip, one in his left eyebrow, and six in each ear. His black hair hung in his eyes, in casual disarray. He was still chubby. Cue anime-chibi-happy-face (*^-^*)
Katiana, the drummer, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. Her long brown hair had been chopped off and dyed bubble-gum pink. Her blue eyes were accentuated by the silver eyeliner, and white powder-shimmer dusted her eyelids and spread to her temples. She'd gotten a tattoo on her neck that I couldn't read, since it was in Russian. She was wearing a bright yellow jumper and white tights, with high-heeled fluorescent blue boots. About thirty jelly bracelets, all in rainbow colours, dangled from her slender wrists.
Vlad, bass-playing extraordinaire, still had short hair gelled into a small mohawk on the top of his head. He had put blonde streaks in the black, and he'd gotten more muscles, much like Miva. His brown eyes were rimmed with kohl, but not as thick as Miva or Renj's.
I realised then how much different I must have been to them. I still hadn't gained back all the weight I'd lost after Micah's death, and my platinum-blonde hair had, of course, been dyed black. If it were possible, my five-foot-seven stature had seemed to shrink, but that could have been due to lack of body fat. I was wearing black track pants and a t-shirt I had made with my free time on vacation. It had the iron-on logos for Cinema Bizarre, Emotionless Prison, and Tokio Hotel decorating it. I was also wearing flip-flops, something I never wore.
"You all look amazing," Kat gushed.
"Thank you, you do, too. What's that tat mean?"
"It means Angels, and it has the initials of these three."
"Ah. It's sweet as Hell. I want another tattoo."
"Let's go get one."
"Seriously?"
"Yes! I will pay, since I know the Russian currency, and you do not."
"Um. . .okay!"