Chapter Text
Roz had always liked boys. The idea of a guy that could hold her up and keep her safe from anything the world threw at them. Of course, she told herself. She would be fine on her lonesome, but no one liked to be alone, right? Being emo couldn’t entirely block out the fact that she grew up on a steady diet of romance movies and media that told her that what she was feeling was mutual; expected.
Leaning onto the band was a good way to be noticed. And of course, being in the spotlight was a million eyes telling her she was worthy. While it was nice, Roz couldn’t help the dull thrum of being left out she noticed the boys of the band joking around. There was always a little piece of her that told her that she while she was part of the band, she wasn’t liked there. She was filler, maybe a coin of diversity, but it was all she had. She had to cling onto it as if it was all that she had because it was to some extent.
Ethan showing up couldn't help but rattle the cage a little. Roz didn’t expect much of him in the beginning, what with all of his big talk and twink-like exterior. Bradley had gone through dozens of guys exactly like this one. She simply tuned her guitar and tuned out the audition.
“We could do with a backstory like yours,” Bradley spoke in his deep careless drawl and suddenly Roz’s attention was piqued. She flicked a cursory look at the boy and gave him a once-over. He was tall. She could say that at the least. She wouldn’t have to lean down to kiss him like she’d had to with Bradley. Maybe this could work.
And then it didn’t.
Roz had pushed the boy into a wall and kissed him. She gave him all of her hope and desperation and only got radio static in return. She pushed in and all she could feel was a lanky boy and thin lips.
Roz would never, ever, admit it to anyone, but she was glad when Ethan pushed away from her. This was just a shitty kiss- nothing more. There would be more - the two were dating now. There would be plenty more kisses in the future, plenty more chances for something to go write, for her to feel that click that everyone told her she should feel.
And then, that didn’t happen. They were a breath apparent and then suddenly Ethan was breaking things off with her. Roz had felt like a chance had been stolen from her. She’d clung on hard and early and gotten nothing in return.
She’d cried for a long time when she had gotten home that night, punching the wall helplessly, because that’s all she was. Hopeless. A girl tied up on a string connected to a blank wall with no way out.
Roz had written a song about it that night. She clutched her furry cheetah-print diary and written lyrics about heartbreak, failure, and disappointment. She’d thrown the papers away afterward, of course. She’d never been good at writing lyrics anyway. That job belonged to the men of the group.
Days after that were dull. Guitar Practice took up her time like a plague and she let her mind be taken over by her new chords and her various classes.
Roz found herself sketching an arson scene, leaning on the tail of her Prius when a dainty finger was tapping her notebook. Said nail was painted a light pink and Roz found herself scowing instantly. Her gaze snapped up to the stranger in front of her and brows furrowed.
The girl was tall, that was the first thing she noticed about her. Her long brown hair was tied into a tight ponytail and freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. Irritation sparked in her chest, “What do you want?”
The girl smiled nervously and cheekbones made themselves appear on her face. “I- uh. You’re part of that emo band, right? The one who set the school on fire?”
Roz nodded curtly, “And? Is that all?” She would never be able to tell why this girl made her so uncomfortable, why she wanted her to go away so badly.
“I just wanted to say that I love the way you perform.”
"Thanks?”
“I’m serious! You look like you could take on the entire world with your pinkie.”
The shorter of the girls scrunched her eyebrows together, confusion was a swirl in her head. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I just thought you should know. Um.” The girl fiddled with her fingers. “I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of down lately, and I just,” the girl was practically gushing, “I look up to you so much. It kills me to see you so down.”
Roz bit her lip she couldn’t help the worm of heat that snaked up her chest and left unseen tears springing in her eyes. “Thank you,” she managed lamely. What was she supposed to say to that?
The girl was smiling and blushing. Before she knew it, the girl was walking away, her ponytail swishing behind her.
Roz felt like she’d been caught in a tornado, spun around and then spit out. She was rubbed raw, to say the least, but there was something nice about the feeling blooming in her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been complimented, and she had to admit that it was nice.
A smile was a rare appearance and she managed to hold onto hit during the entire ride home.