Dark Blue

Valentine

"Uh, miss?" a security guard coughed, and I jumped half a foot before turning to face him. He was the classic, cliche security guard from the muscles to the blue uniform and flashlight hinged in his belt loop.

"Yes?" I forced out anxiously, my eyes darting around desperately.

Okay, I'll admit it. I was hopelessly lost. The venue was the size of fucking Texas, and there were so many stairs. I was just a hopeless case with directions, even though Garrett had specifically emailed them to me, then refreshed me on them just an hour ago on the phone. Plus, I still had the directions and highlighted map in my purse.

And there I was. Lost.

"I don't think you're supposed to be back here," he said as politely as he could, pointing at a sign on the wall, which read Authorized Persons Only, for emphasis.

"I'm sorry," I said sheepishly, biting down on my bottom lip and doing my best to keep myself from blushing. "This place is just massive, and I have no sense of direction..."

"Well, no fans are allowed-"

"Hey Mike," an easy voice called, and I desperately sought out the person it belonged to. I swear to you, the Hallelujah Chorus was going off in my head once I found him.

"Oh, hey Garrett," the security guard responded. "I'm just escorting this fan out, I'll be with you in a second."

"Actually, she's a guest, not a fan. She's with me," he explained quickly, walking over and grinning at me. I could see he was trying hard not to laugh. Even so, I shot him a grateful look.

"Oh, my mistake. I had no idea. I'm sorry..."

"Val," I finished for him before shaking his hand.

"I'm sorry, Val. I'm Mike, and I'll probably see you around tonight."

"Nice to meet you, Mike," I said, my face still flushed from the whole ordeal.

"I'm gonna get going and pretend this whole thing didn't happen," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Likewise. I appreciate it," I said, equally as embarrassed.

"See you around Val," he said, before giving Garrett one of those head nod things. "Garrett."

"See ya Mike," Garrett said, his voice smooth.

"Goodbye," I added.

Mike's footsteps faded off, and I covered my face, which I'm sure was varying degrees of red, with my hand and cast in embarrassment. As soon as Mike was out of hearing distance Garrett burst into laughter. I smiled against my will, still unable to look him in the eye. From my peripheral vision, I could see his chestnut hair flying as he shook his head.

"Wow. Already getting busted by security at your very first of our concerts, nonetheless, and you've only been here how long?"

"Ten minutes," I mumbled, the words muffling against the cast and skin.

"Ten minutes," Garrett repeated, his expression becoming more and more amused. I glared at him from the spaces between my fingers, which just set him off again with the laughter. "God, Val, congrats. That has to be a new record for one of our concerts."

"Oh, that's just swell," I said, my voice full of sarcastic joy. "No chance we can just start over and pretend I gracefully found the way to your dressing room all on my own, is there?"

"Oh, not at all," he assured me, leaning up against the wall, right next to my new favorite sign.

"Didn't think so," I sighed dramatically, pushing my loose waves out of my face with my good hand. "But even you have to agree, this place is like, massive!"

Garrett shrugged, but his lips formed an easy, tight lipped grin. "I suppose I could humor you there. This place is sorta big..."

"Sorta," I snorted. "Yeah, and a zombie apocalypse would be sorta inconvenient."
I felt his eyes on me and saw his jaw go slack in shock, and immediately became incredibly self-conscious. It's not that I'm an insecure person. I mean, sure, I had never had the greatest confidence; it was hard when your best friend's like, model material, but I was okay with who I was and how I looked.

Then, with the accident, not only was my best friend and greatest supporter torn unexpectedly away from me, but I was left some sort of walking spectacle. I served as a constant reminder that even when you're doing everything right, you can still get into a car accident, as well as some sort of miracle survivor to be in awe of. When you add in all of the ugly scars left behind, I was always being stared at and whispered about; always talked and stared at, never talked too. I think it was partially because I reminded people of Sage, and partially because they had this irrational fear that if they associated with me, it might happen to them, too.

That kind of thing will make anyone uncomfortable.

And here I stood, next to my best friend's older brother, someone who in my eyes had always seemed different than the rest, and he was staring at me. The thing that really threw me off, though, was that it wasn't the pity or disgust of everyone else I encountered. I couldn't describe it, but it almost looked in awe.

"Okay, you're making me really nervous," I admitted, raising my eyebrows at him. "Please say something, or do something, because if your band finds out I broke you, they might hurt me."

"Nah," Garrett countered, snapping out of his trance with a slight shake of his head. "They'd just make you replace me."

I rolled my eyes at him and held out my broken arm, the hard plaster cast front and center. He chuckled a bit and walked over, knocking on it himself as if inspecting it. Finally, he let out a shrug.

"I don't see a problem," he said with a completely straight face.

"Yeah, that would work so well. I mean, if they like rotten vegetables thrown at them, then I'm their girl," I said, my tone fused with sarcasm. "But really. What was with the look?"

"It's nothing," he said quickly, but I narrowed my eyes and he caved with a sigh. "Okay, it's just, you made a zombie reference."

"And...?" I trailed, raising my thin eyebrows expectantly.

"I have never actually heard a girl bring up zombies in a conversation, like she was talking about curling irons or lipstick or whatever you girls talk about these days," he rambled, and I tried to stop my grin by biting my lip.

"You scared me," I breathed out in relief.

"You're sitting here talking about a fucking zombie apocalypse, and I scared you?" he teased, his deep blue eyes widening a bit.

"Well," I said, suddenly not wanting to explain, or knowing how. "It's just, for a second I thought you were being like everyone else around town."

"I'm sorry, Val, but you lost me. I don't understand..."

I let out a frustrated sigh and looked up at the flickering fluorescent lights. "It's just, like, I'll walk down the street or into church or past a baseball game, and everyone stops, stares at me, and then they talk, but not to me. About me."

His eyebrows furrowed together, and a flash of something pass through his face; he almost looked...mad? I bit my tongue and looked down at my feet, because it was easier than watching him. I was so tired suddenly. It was like everything was catching up with me, and I just wanted to go back to before.

"Hey," he said softly, and I met his eyes again. "Listen to me. You're so strong, and what you've been through is unfair and insane. The fact that people have the nerve to treat you like that, well, it's bullshit. Seriously, you do not deserve that."

The corners of my lips tugged up a little bit as I watched him pace angrily back and forth in front of me. He continued his little rant, and I just let him. I spaced out on him, though, and completely lost track of what he was saying. I'm pretty sure he was saying it just as much for his sake as for mine, so I figured my little zoning issue wasn't a big deal.

"Hey Gare?" I interrupted after a while. He stopped mid step and looked at me, his face flushed from his little outburst. As soon as I stopped him though, his eyes changed from stormy to calm, just like that.

"Yeah?"

"Let's not talk about this anymore. I just wanna take in everything here, without letting everyone else's rudeness and stupidity get in the way and ruin it," I said gently, and he nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, okay. I'm sorry, you're right. That sounds good," he agreed, holding his arm out for me to take. "I'll introduce you to the guys before we start with rehearsal, we'll have a little while to catch up, and then rehearsal will actually start, and you're gonna watch that. Then, and I apologize in advance for this, you're stuck with me and the guys until the actual show, which you will also watch, and then you and I are getting ice cream before I drive you home."

I nodded, trying to keep up since he was talking a mile a minute. We walked arm-in-arm through the venue, our footsteps and voices the only sound echoing around the empty hallways. It would have been eerie if I had been alone.

"Good, let's meet this band! Rumor has it they're sexy," I said, waggling my eyebrows up at Garrett, who stifled a chuckle.

"You don't say?" he played along with a straight face.

"Oh, yeah. Especially the bassist," I finished, winking at him. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but never did. He just scratched the back of his head with his free hand and looked directly ahead, leading me through the maze of halls and stairs.

~*~

I could feel my hands shaking subtly as Garrett led us into one of the rooms back stage. I hid as well as I could behind his shoulder as he pushed the door open. I had always been a little shy, and this whole meeting a famous band thing made me nervous. I caught a glimpse of five guys sitting around, their laughter piercing through the air. They barely flinched as the door squeaked open, instead focused on something the one with long, chestnut hair had said.

"Hey guys," Garrett said, clearing his throat. They all looked up and said a quick hello before double-taking once they saw me. I let go of Garrett's arm and wrapped my arms around myself with a bit of awkwardness, considering the cast.

"Why hello there," one with unruly, tawny hair said, waggling his eyebrows at Garrett before offering his hand to me. I took it with my good hand, and he shook it before bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly. I could feel the blush coloring my cheeks as I avoided Garrett's eyes.

"Who is this beautiful girl you've brought, Gare?" asked one with red hair.

"And where have you been all of my life?" another directed at me, his teeth bright as he grinned. He had dark hair and well-groomed facial hair.

"Ha, ha," Garrett said dryly. "Guys, this is Val. Val, these are the guys."

"Hi, Val," they chorused, each sporting a cheeky grin.

"Hi," I responded softly, my face still warm.

"I'm John," the one who kissed my hand offered. "I sing."

"I'm Tim, the manager," one who hadn't spoken before said. "Those morons are Jared, Pat, and Kennedy."

He pointed at the red head first, then the long-haired one, followed by facial hair guy. I nodded and attempted to commit the names to memory. They were all watching me, and it made me squirm a bit. Granted, it wasn't like the staring of people in town, which I was incredibly thankful for.

"So, you're the one Gare's been talking to," Pat said, looking awfully impressed with himself. I looked up at Garrett, whose expression told me he wanted to hit all of his friends. I pursed my lips to stop a grin before shrugging.

"Yeah, I guess."

"What happened to your arm?" Kennedy inquired, and I felt myself freeze. Garrett must have sensed it too, because he reached over and grabbed my hand, swiftly giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Freak accident," he said nonchalantly, and I looked at him with so much thanks for the second time that night.

"Oh, oh oh!" Pat said excitedly, raising his hand like an elementary school student in class.

"Yes Pat?" Garrett said, his voice cautious. I watched, frozen partially from fear and partially because I wasn't really sure how to react.

"Can I sign it?"

He looked at me so earnestly and so hopefully that I couldn't help but smile. I could see Garrett getting ready to let him down easy, but I surprised him and myself by opening my mouth first.

"Sure."

Tim handed him a black sharpie out of a bag sitting on the table and I offered up my plain cast to Pat as he sprinted over. Garrett and the others watched with amused grins, no one saying anything as Pat held the cap of the marker in his mouth, eyes squinted in concentration as he picked the perfect spot on the plaster.

"There," he announced finally, looking pleased. I turned my arm at a strange angle in an attempt to see what he had wrote, but I didn't get a change.

"Can we sign it too?" Kennedy asked, gesturing to the rest of them.

"If you want," I agreed, and my encased arm was passed around from one to the other.

"Are we the only ones to sign it?" Pat asked as he stood behind me, braiding my hair. He was odd, that was for sure, but I liked him. Something about him was just so unique and precious and I loved it.

"Uh, yeah, I guess you are." I could see him start to press the matter further, but Garrett said something I didn't catch, and Pat got distracted and caught up in something about the band.

"Okay, guys," Garrett said finally, after I was passed around and signed, drew on, and, as Pat put it, 'beautified,' by everyone. "I hate to break up this little arts and crafts moment, but I'm stealing her back for awhile. We'll meet up with you at rehearsal."

The guys put up a good natured protest, but Garrett grabbed my hand again and dragged me from them before they could seriously object.

"It was nice meeting you!" I called right as I crossed into the hallway.

Garrett and I walked in silent for awhile, and after a few moments, he dropped my hand and rubbed the back of his neck, his fair skin turning light pink. I bit my lip and pretended not to notice as we turned another corner. Finally, we ended up by a patch of grass outside the venue. I could see the buses a little distance away, but there weren't any people around.

"This is about the only place to hear yourself think. Believe it or not, it will get worse after rehearsal," Garrett said finally, plopping down on the grass. I followed suit and then laid down, looking up at the clouds. I felt him beside me, his arm almost touching mine as he settled.

"They're nice, you know. Your friends," I said, rambling nervously like I always did.

"They're a pain in the ass," Garrett corrected jokingly, and I laughed. "But yeah, they're pretty great."

"They're also very good artists and writers," I pointed out, holding up my cast for evidence. I really looked at it for the first time and saw sloppy writing along with a fire-breathing dragon, some creature straight out of a video game, music notes, poor self-portraits, and some checkering.

"Yeah," he murmured before popping up on one arm and looking at me bashfully. "Can I sign it, too?"

"Well of course you can."

He sat up and pulled the sharpie from his back pocket. I sat cross-legged and watched his face intently as he wrote with great care. I used my good hand as an anchor to keep my balance as he sketched somewhere along my wrist. A few times I attempted to sneak a peak at what he was doing, but he refused to let me see until it was finished.

"You're such a moody artist," I groaned teasingly, and he shot me a look before turning his full attention back to his little canvas.

"You're just bitter," he said slowly, finally backing away and tilting his head at it. "And I am done. Go ahead and look."

I twisted my arm quickly toward me and laughed when I saw his slanted name along with a pretty decent sketch of two zombies. Upon closer examination, I realized they were us.

"That's awesome," I gushed, brushing my finger over the dark, black marks.

"It's alright," he shrugged, picking a few blades of grass. Another comfortable silence enveloped us, I stared back up at the clouds, trying to find shapes.

"Thank you," I whispered once my eyes weren't focused on him.

"For what?" he asked curiously, and I could feel his eyes trained on my face.

"For doing this for me. I know it was just as much for you as me, but it's just so nice to not be this breakable, fragile little girl for a change. You and your friends treat me like I'm normal, and I can't thank any of you enough for that. I mean, so much changed after the accident, and I guess I just needed assurance that I could be normal again, or at least close to it."

Garrett took all this in, and finally I worked up the courage to look back at him. His dark blue eyes were staring deep into my soul, and I was transfixed by him. He reached over and traced my newly acquired scars, which were still a little red and puckered.

"You should never feel like less of who you once were because of others, or because of these scars. If anything, these are proof that yeah, maybe you aren't who you were before; you're stronger."

I gnawed on my cheek and shook my head slowly. "It's not that easy when these ugly scars give everyone a reminder of what happened, including me. They just serve as proof of the whole ugly accident and give everyone a reason to stare."

"Trust me, everyone who stares isn't seeing the scars. You're too beautiful; that can't be marred by these. If anything, they make you more unique. You're not just another pretty face with them; they make you a warrior, like an Amazon or something."

I could feel my eyes watering, my lips curling upward, and his face and mine gravitating towards each other. I don't know what was going through his head; I could barely make out the jumbled mess that was running through my mind. My stomach was a mess of butterflies and nerves and I could feel his breath tickling my face. It was so close; we were so close.

"Hey, Garrett," Jared called, sticking his head out the door. I jumped back and Garrett snapped the other way. I could see a Jared with a shit-eating grin clearly as Garrett turned away from me and faced Jared instead.

"What?" he snapped, fumbling to his feet.

"Time for rehearsal."

"Alright. Thanks," he said stiffly.

"Anytime, bro," Jared said cheerfully. Garrett offered his hand and helped me to my feet before leading me in silence to the stage. My heart was beating a mile a minute and my cheeks were burning scarlet, no doubt. Garrett's face was unreadable, and I was starting to wonder if I had imagined the whole thing.

What happened out there?