The Teenage Insomniac and the Rock Star

My fingers curl inward, hands clenching into fists as I openly stare at the intense and irritated hazel-gold eyes. The boy seemed rather intimidating, and something about him screamed 'Don't fuck with me'. His clothes were mostly black, and the Gun N' Roses shirt stretched across his chest, tattooed and muscled forearms resting across his chest. His face, distorted with his irritation, was actually handsome. Strong jawline and not overly defined cheekbones. Sinfully full lips, the bottom one sporting a silver hoop much like my own.

"What the fuck are you starin' at?" he snapped.

I never did well with confrontation. I'm not sure why. Sure, I've been in fights, but actually confrontation I avoided due to the anxious, tight feeling clenched in my chest, almost as tightly as my fists. Turning my gaze back to my empty desk, I close my eyes as I fight the tight knot forming in my chest. I barely made out the teacher saying something to the boy, the words drowned out by the loud thumping in my ears. It felt like I swallowed my own heart.

You can be sure I left the room as swiftly as possible, trying not to touch anyone on my way out. Unfortunately, my feet stopped as I stared at the crowded halls. My mind forced my tense body forward and I fought back the sickening churning sensation in my stomach as people brushed against me, or as a shoulder slams into my own.

Through the whirl of chaotic sensations and thoughts, everything seemed to break as a firm hand landed on my shoulder. Reflexively, I turn, my clenched fist connecting with the unsuspecting cheek. The hand releases me instantly, and the sudden silence over the hallway pulls me to realization.

It was the boy again. His face twitched in a wince as he turns his head forward from the position my fist forced it to go in. His glaring hazel-gold eyes caused me to take a step back, the tight feeling in my chest becoming unbearably painful. Without thinking, my hand clasps the collar of my tank top, right above the tightness in my chest. God, this is bad.

"Damn. I only wanted to apologize for freaking out like that," he snaps fiercely.

My body instinctively takes a step back, my gaze meeting his briefly, "Sorry. I...I didn't mean to hit you. I..I acted out of reflex."

His hazel-gold eyes softened slightly and I felt a different sensation fill my chest as his lips pull into a soft smile. Those beautiful lips pulling his handsome features, his cheeks indenting with slightly unsymmetrical dimples. He raised his hands, almost in an act of claiming his innocence.

"Sorry I grabbed you, but you're kinda quick for someone so small. I am sorry for snapping at you. I didn't get the best sleep last night and your tapping reminds me of the person that kept me awake," he assures.

I can't help in reflexive and cynical snort at his words. Boy the irony, "Trust me, I know the feeling. Sorry for irritating you, I just have a bit of an anxiety issue being around new people and the tapping helps me block everything out."

He nods, as if understanding, which I doubt he does, "I'm Matt. Matt Sanders."

Glancing at the extended hands, more whispers fill the hall as I tentatively clasp his hand, shaking it briefly, "Violet Danvers."

"Well, maybe I'll see you around," he expressed with a shrug of his shoulders and a wink before he turns on heel and makes his way through the whispering halls.

Entering my Chemistry class, I'm relieved to see most of the students haven't shown up yet. Speaking quickly with the teacher, I'm issued my place at a lab table and as the students enter, I hear whispers. Something about the way they spoke seems as though they weren't just talking about me. Burying myself in my notes as I jot down things from the text book, I ignore my new lab partner as they take a seat beside me.

Ten minutes later, after the teacher issued us each a personal worksheet to complete, my thoughts are cut off by the tapping of a pencil. A small smile forms on my lips as the pencil hits different places on the book, giving the tapping varied beats. Before I can stop myself, my head gently bobs to the beat, my right foot instinctively tapping in rhythm.

"Dream Theater fan?" a voice from my right questions, the voice a pleasant mix between a raspy deep voice, and a light-hearted voice.

Glancing up at the teen, I find myself staring into one of the most intensely blue eyes I've ever seen, and that's saying something seeing as though my brother has really, really intense blue eyes. The grinning face that owned the gorgeous eyes caused the almost permanent tight feeling in my chest to release its grip on my heart. I wasn't sure what it was about his strangely put together outfit, a rather bright orange kimono-styled robe thrown over his clothes, or maybe it was that his form seemed to tower over me, even when we are sitting, but I found myself grinning back slightly.

"Yeah. A friend of mine is a huge fan of Mike Portnoy," I find myself replying as if I was actually talking to Christopher himself.

"Are you?" the boy asks, both of us ignoring the surprised exclaims from surrounding students.

"I'll admit, the man is a God when it comes to drums, but I'm afraid my heart lies in the stellar hands of John Petrucci," I sigh, thinking back to my study of the man in one of my Music classes back in Freehold.

The boy chuckles, "You'd get along with a friend of mine. He says that Petrucci is one of his three biggest influences."

"Do you blame him?" I retort easily, once again getting the feeling as though I'm speaking to Christopher all over again.

The boy let out a laugh once more before extending his hand, "The names Jimmy."

"Violet," I reply, shaking his hand briefly.

"You must be new here," I quirk a pierced eyebrow at his statement, "I've never met someone other than the guys that actually looks past the abnormality that I am."

I can't stop the smirk that pulls on my lips, "Please. You are no more stranger than one of my friends. You actually remind me a lot of him."

The rest of Chem I find myself spending on helping Jimmy with his worksheet. He was pretty intelligent, but he just wasn't a fan of all the numbers and elements that are used in Chem. I have to say, I haven't laughed this hard for a while. The boy was rather amusing, his random comments causing me to crack up.

"Hey, maybe you can sit with me and the guys during lunch?" Jimmy offered as we left the room.

I tilt my head slightly as I thought about it, "Maybe. I'm pretty sure my brother want to know if I got in any trouble yet, so if not today, maybe another day."

He flashes me that damn grin again, "Sounds awesome. Later Letty!"

Why he calls me Letty, I will never know. He is definitely a strange one. Passing through the halls, I try to hold onto the thought that I finally met someone much like my dearest childhood friend. Thoughts traveling back to my vague childhood, I shake my head before entering my next class. Music and Harmony.

The teacher allowed us to sit where we wanted and instructed us that they were to work on a personal piece with an instrument of their choosing. I ignored the man's comment about me being new and that he is willing to give me slack as I make my way to the instruments. Picking up an acoustic guitar, I find a private spot in the back corner and sit down cross-legged on the floor. Pulling out my music folder, I glance over the piece I was working on this morning.

Scratching out previous crap and inserting new chords, I got lost in the music I am creating. I wasn't a lyricist at all, but the melody would definitely sound better on an electric. Hm...I can't help but inwardly hum thoughtfully as I look over at the other students. Noticing two boys, both with electric guitars that I am sure the school didn't provide for students, I stood from my seat, grabbing the music sheet and allowing the guitar to hang behind me as I approached them.

The taller of the two was completely engrossed in his music, his chin-length black hair framing his handsome face. Deep brown eyes reminded me of chocolate, not my favorite food, but it was definitely a handsome shade. His hat sat cock-eyed on his head, set on top of a black bandanna. Eyeliner outlined his eyes, causing them to seem more intense.

The boy with him grinned widely, his bottom lip sporting two identical piercings on either side of his lip. Vivid green eyes lit up at the sound of the music as they watched the other boy's fingers move along the fret board with ease. His mess of black hair fell into his round face and I finally noticed that they both sported tattoos like the other students I met today.

"Is there a reason you're here?" the green-eyed boy asks, causing the other boy to stop playing.

Tugging on my lip ring with my teeth, I slid over the music sheet, "I wrote this out and I can't help but feel as though it isn't something meant for an acoustic guitar. You two are the only ones with electric so I was hoping you can play it out for me so I know if I should change some of the chords up."

Both boys quirked their eyebrows, but despite their hesitation, the brown-eyed boy took the music sheet from me. Both boys studied it for a while, Green-Eyes's teeth nipping at his own lip ring, Chocolate-Eyes's gaze lighting up. Both boys whispered to each other, Chocolate-Eyes motioning to something on the paper. Green-Eyes took out a pencil from his ear and seemed to write something on my paper, causing me to tense up.

Before I could say anything, the two began playing simultaneously. Not quite at the tempo I was hoping for, but you can't expect them to get it off their first shot. I find myself standing up straighter when Green-Eyes begins playing something separate from Chocolate-Eyes, both of them seemingly in their own world.

As the song came to an end, I could stop myself from clapping, ignoring the silence from the rest of the students. Both boys look up and grin, handing the paper back.

"That's a really good piece. Sorry if we tweaked it a bit," Chocolate-Eyes states, cracking his fingers.

Green-Eyes nods with enthusiasm, "Damn, where did you come up with that?"

"Last night while talking to a friend. Not much of lyrics though, but I couldn't figure out what was missing last night. Thanks," I mention softly, "I'm Violet."

Chocolate-Eyes introduces himself as Brian Haner, Green Eyes shaking my hand while telling me to call him Zacky. Does everyone at this school have such gorgeous eyes? Or is it just me today? Zacky pulled me into a conversation about Rock music, Brian wanting to go back to playing. After a few minutes of talking to Zacky, I suddenly tense up.

"Petrucci," I mutter out, the sudden mix up of chords cutting the song short.

"What?"

Glancing up, I point to him, "You're a fan of John Petrucci. I can tell from the way you play. You wouldn't happen to be friends with some kid, Jimmy, would you?"

Brian grins widely, "We both are. How do you know Slim-Jim?"

"Chemistry. He was tapping a familiar Mike Portnoy solo and I found my feet playing along," I mention, both boys unable to stop themselves from grinning, "Something wrong?"

"No. I just never met someone who Jimmy actually takes to easily," Zacky mentions.

"That's a bad thing?" Both boys shake their heads.

The boys spent the rest of the class telling me about being in a band, Brian playing Lead Guitar while Zacky played Rhythm. I'm amazed by their depth to their music. I wonder why everyone in the class is quiet?

"We can sometimes come off as unapproachable," Zacky states, and he must have realized I am staring at the silent students. "We don't conform to what they think is right and we enjoy the sense of chaos we bring to the status-quo."

Nodding in understanding, I listen as they play their own pieces. Both are extremely talented and I can't help but envy their sense of ease with their instruments. I know I could never be in a band. My heart would probably explode from the anxiety.

Parting ways with the two, I make my way to Gym. Changing into a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a simple tank top, I make my way into the Gym. Gym seems to be a mix of grades, my gaze landing on the lanky form of my brother talking to some brown-haired boy. Approaching them, I tap the left shoulder of my brother but appear on his right, causing him to look over his left shoulder in confusion. The boy in front of him chuckles as Thomas glares at me.

"I still hate you," he mentions.

"Aye, but you have to live with me for the rest of your life," I shoot back easily, my gaze landing on the boy. "Who's this?"

You have to understand, my brother doesn't judge people based on their looks, but this kid didn't seem like someone my brother would hang out with. His dark clothing mixed with his leather cuffs, I wonder how this short kid feels having Thomas tower over him all the time. I find myself once again staring into a pair of beautiful amber-brown eyes. The warmth filling them mixed with a self-confidence that almost oozed arrogance. Not necessarily a bad thing, the kid seemed to have the attitude mostly due to his relatively short stature. Compensation.

"Oh, this is Johnny Sewerd. Johnny, this is my older sister, Violet," Thomas motions between us as he speaks.

Johnny grins widely, "You're his sister? Damn. Tom didn't mention his sister was hot."

Oh. He's a ballsy little shit. My brother's shoulders tense, but I let out a disgusted scoff, "I would hope he wouldn't. That would be a little weird."

The Gym period forced me to team up with Thomas and Johnny for a mini-basketball tournament. My brother and I flashed identical smirks as we start the first game. It's relatively easy for us to dominate, my brother quick and good at making angled shots. I'm good at diversion tactics and three-point shots. Johnny seemed quick on the pick-ups and the rebounds.

By the end of the period, we dominated our way to the final 'four' teams, which would play the next Gym period. During the period I realized that while Johnny did lack height, he made up for with quick comments and rather straight-forward accusations that got him on the receiving end of many glares. Apparently he can take shit, just as much as he gives, and he has the ability to back up his words physically if needed. He reminded me of a straight-version of Fluffy.

Exiting the locker room, I'm greeted by both boys. Thomas suggest we eat lunch with the short teen and his friends. Sure enough, I follow them to the lunch room and to a table in the back corner where five teens already sat. Pausing at the table, Johnny greets his friends before turning to introduce us.

"Guys, this is Thomas Lance and-"

"Violet Danvers."

Oh no. It wasn't one voice that cut the short kid off. It was four familiar voices. Four familiar voices paired with four familiar, beautiful eyes. Damn, if God exists, I think he's getting some enjoyment out of fucking with me.