Walk Alone
1/1
He believes in rock and roll, because rock and roll was always there for him. When the kids at school would taunt him for his multicolored hair that was often teased, for the many piercings on his face, when they called him "emo," "goth," and "fag," because he wore dark clothing or pants that were "too tight", and the feminine clothing he wore on occasion, and when they called him The Devil because of the music he listened to rock and roll was always there to kick them in the ass. Rock and roll was there to stand up for him. When his parents were too busy arguing about petty things, too busy accusing each other for their discontent, or too busy working, when they were too busy calling their only son a mistake, a failure, a disgrace, when they were too busy pretending he didn't exist, and too busy to listen to him rock and roll was there to listen. When he came out to his "friends" rock and roll was there to support him. When his boyfriend cheated on him rock and roll was the one to pick up the pieces; rock and roll was always the one to pick up the pieces. For the times he was beaten and abused, for the times he'd cry himself to sleep, for the times he'd slide the razor across his arms and thighs, rock and roll was there to comfort him. When he'd often think about giving up and giving in; rock and roll was there to encourage him. He didn't place his trust in people, because people let you down, but rock and roll, rock and roll will never let you down. For the times he felt alone, rock and roll was there to fill the void.
Smoke escapes past his chapped lips as he exhales, then he takes another drag from the cancerstick perched in between his index and middle fingers. His dark, gray eyes were fixed on his ragged converse as memories filled his head. His shoes were covered in doodles and lyrics from some of his favorite songs, lyrics that had got him through a lot of shit. There was an autograph from one of his favorite musicians on the right shoe, and both shoes had holes and tears from life's adventures--some of which he'd rather not relive--and his laces had also had enough, but that's how he liked them. They were reminiscent of the hell he had been through and how he kept hanging on thanks to rock and roll. He had them since middle school and when he dropped out of school he didn't have the money nor the intentions of getting a new pair. His shoes were a part of him.
A pair of vans that were in perfect condition and looked brand new stepped into his view and a soft "hi" brought him out of his scattered thoughts. He looked up to see a small boy standing before him with an annoying big smile on his face, staring up at him with equally annoying big, brown eyes. His light brown hair was neat and straightened reaching his neck. He wore a purple v-neck and loose-fitting skinny jeans, and he looked friendly, and adorable, and irritating. He was probably a few years younger than Zeppelin. Zeppelin just stared at the boy with disinterest until he spoke up again.
"My name is Hendrix," the boy said and paused as if waiting for Zeppelin to introduce himself. "What's your name?" he asked when Zeppelin didn't reply.
"None of your damn business," Zeppelin responded harshly.
The small boy's smile faltered for a second but he continued, "Oh, well, I saw you over here and you looked so sad and lonely, so I thought I'd come over and-"
Zeppelin scoffed--causing the boy to stop mid-sentence--and hopped off the brick wall he had been sitting on. The boy gazed up at Zeppelin with wide eyes. Zeppelin stomped out his cigarette and glared down at the boy. "I don't need or want anyone's company, got it kid?"
He didn't wait for a response, instead he grabbed his abandoned guitar he had sat aside for a smoke and walked away leaving the boy standing there with wide, watery eyes and trembling lips. Zeppelin didn't care though. He didn't need anyone else. All he needed was rock and roll, because in the end people will hurt you and betray you but rock and roll would never give up on him; rock and roll would never abandon him. Rock and roll was all he needed and it was all he had.
Smoke escapes past his chapped lips as he exhales, then he takes another drag from the cancerstick perched in between his index and middle fingers. His dark, gray eyes were fixed on his ragged converse as memories filled his head. His shoes were covered in doodles and lyrics from some of his favorite songs, lyrics that had got him through a lot of shit. There was an autograph from one of his favorite musicians on the right shoe, and both shoes had holes and tears from life's adventures--some of which he'd rather not relive--and his laces had also had enough, but that's how he liked them. They were reminiscent of the hell he had been through and how he kept hanging on thanks to rock and roll. He had them since middle school and when he dropped out of school he didn't have the money nor the intentions of getting a new pair. His shoes were a part of him.
A pair of vans that were in perfect condition and looked brand new stepped into his view and a soft "hi" brought him out of his scattered thoughts. He looked up to see a small boy standing before him with an annoying big smile on his face, staring up at him with equally annoying big, brown eyes. His light brown hair was neat and straightened reaching his neck. He wore a purple v-neck and loose-fitting skinny jeans, and he looked friendly, and adorable, and irritating. He was probably a few years younger than Zeppelin. Zeppelin just stared at the boy with disinterest until he spoke up again.
"My name is Hendrix," the boy said and paused as if waiting for Zeppelin to introduce himself. "What's your name?" he asked when Zeppelin didn't reply.
"None of your damn business," Zeppelin responded harshly.
The small boy's smile faltered for a second but he continued, "Oh, well, I saw you over here and you looked so sad and lonely, so I thought I'd come over and-"
Zeppelin scoffed--causing the boy to stop mid-sentence--and hopped off the brick wall he had been sitting on. The boy gazed up at Zeppelin with wide eyes. Zeppelin stomped out his cigarette and glared down at the boy. "I don't need or want anyone's company, got it kid?"
He didn't wait for a response, instead he grabbed his abandoned guitar he had sat aside for a smoke and walked away leaving the boy standing there with wide, watery eyes and trembling lips. Zeppelin didn't care though. He didn't need anyone else. All he needed was rock and roll, because in the end people will hurt you and betray you but rock and roll would never give up on him; rock and roll would never abandon him. Rock and roll was all he needed and it was all he had.
♠ ♠ ♠
uuuuggghhh I haven't written in so long...I know the picture I used was a girl and at first I was gonna write in a girl's pov, buuut I prefer writing in a male's pov. I hope you all enjoyed and don't worry you'll see more of Zeppelin and Hendrix...(;