The World Will Stain Us

CC

We Stitch These Wounds had been a success, so why did something feel so wrong?

Fall had descended over L.A., which mostly meant slightly cooler weather and a few less tourists. It also meant that the sunlight was less harsh, which Andy was glad of as it meant he could afford to spend a little more time outside during the day. Not a lot, and certainly not when the sun was highest, but mornings and evenings were now viable options to get out and just exist for a while.

We Stitch These Wounds had been a commercial success. They'd managed to catch the attention of Hot Topic shortly before releasing the album and get a single T-shirt design on the website, which despite its simplicity had attracted the attention of a number of fans. The shirts continued to sell with even greater frequency after the album came out. Record sales were higher than any of them had anticipated, and Andy couldn't help feeling like they really had accomplished something. They still weren't making a ton of money, but what they got off the record sales and T-shirt sales both was considerably more than they'd been living off of before.

Their success had motivated them to get to work on devising the next album, taking the next step towards the greatness Andy was chasing. Already it had been more of a collaboration than We Stitch had; Jake and Jinxx were constantly to be found writing music side by side at Jinxx's kitchen table or on Jake's bed at the Compound, occasionally calling Andy or Ashley over to see if a particular chord or riff made sense. They'd taken on the responsibility of writing drum parts, too; Sandra didn't seem to mind too much, but Andy had noticed a skeptical expression on her face multiple times when she left the brainstorming sessions she attended at all.

Andy and Ashley, when they weren't assisting the guitarists, were working on the lyrical side of things. Ashley had decided he'd do backing vocals, though if some of the tracking for the first album was any indication they had kind of all decided to do backing vocals. In any case, while the guitarists were poring over staff sheets in first pencil and then pen, the singer and bassist bent over a fresh notebook Andy had procured, brainstorming lyrics.

It was increasingly becoming apparent that something was missing from this equation, however. Andy had taken note of the fact that Sandra was hardly ever at their brainstorming sessions, though whether that was because she found the Compound revolting (which was understandable, considering the amount of parties they'd already thrown here) or because she was simply losing interest in the band, Andy didn't know.

He was idly doodling a Batman in the corner of his notebook, spacing out a little while he tried to come up with a decent rhyme to the half-finished lyric taunting him in his own handwriting on the page before him, when Jake called him over.

"Hey Andy?" the guitarist's voice drifted in from the main room. "Can you come out here for a second?"

Andy flipped his notebook closed on the annoyingly elusive lyrics and ventured out into the main room, joining Jake, Jinxx, and Ashley on the single couch that took up part of the floor space of the Compound's tiny living room.

"What do you need?" he asked, flipping his hair out of his face with a quick toss of his head. It was getting unruly, too long for him to keep it under control without a ton of hairspray―though considering how much he put in on an almost daily basis, he figured that wasn't actually helping much.

"Can you double-check this riff to see if it works melodically?" Jinxx asked. "We've gone through a couple different variations, but neither of us are sure if the current one works or if we should go back to the old one."

"Sure," Andy shrugged. Jake handed him a sheet of music and tapped his pencil against the staff line he was supposed to be looking at.

"That riff, just at the end of that chord," he said.