*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐ "But somewhere here in between
the city walls of dying dreams, I think her
death it must be killing me." *ೃ༄
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
they say love's a game of easy come and easy go, but not everybody is Brit...
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✩ August 2003
Heathen Chemistry World Tour; Orlando, Florida
"Can I just ask which fella has you dressing up like that?"
Gem's question forced the rest of the band to land their attention on the bassist, who had re-entered their backstage room in Orlando with a warm cup of tea in her hand. Val hummed, sipping on the drink before dropping her head down her body to remind herself on what she was wearing. The laced top didn't do much to cover the bareness of her stomach, fluttering split just in the middle, exposing much of her skin. And the rather short skirt flaunted the rest of her leg. Val only shrugged. "It's hot here."
Noel gave her a knowing look. "Or is Carti here?" He teased. Christian Cartier and Zenith, like before, continued to find their peak in the States instead of anywhere else in the world, England included. They were, without a debate, one of the biggest bands of the 90's, competing alongside Nirvana, R.E.M, and Pearl Jam. Though, Zenith's approach in making music were relatively different than the sounds that the typical ones there.
And of course, Carti wasn't in Orlando. Nor was she trying to impress anybody, let alone the Zenith guitarist. She simply felt like dressing up, gradually finding the confidence to accept herself for who she was——for a short while, Val's struggles took a toll on the way she looked at herself in the mirror. The pure disdain and self-reprimand consumed her, and she occasionally felt revolted by her own skin and body. Being away with the band, reunited with the welcoming music finally made her crawl her way back up to the surface.
Liam flickered his confounded attention between Noel and the girl. "Yer fuckin' shagging that twat again?"
"No." Val rolled her eyes, collapsing next to the older Gallagher and reaching out for the guitar. "And stop calling him a twat. He hasn't done anything to you."
"He's slept with you. So by default, he's a twat in Liam's book." Whitey laughed, swirling his bottle of booze in a circular motion. The frontman muttered a curse under his breath, no doubt towards the drummer's comments. It was pointless, anyway, because everybody knew that Alan was right. Carti, although handsomely notorious, was nowhere close to being as troubled as the rest of them. The guitarist was renowned for his looks and his talents, and Carti's womanising was unequivocally also one of the reasons why he was so popular amongst the people. But he wasn't nearly as rebellious and egotistical as Liam. If anything, he was quite a balance between rock n roll and a remarkable innocence and sweetness.
Noel snorted. "Well, we always knew that this one's a twat." He said, jabbing a thumb towards his younger brother. Val shook her head with a chuckle, before softly strumming the guitar in her lap. Now that she was sober, and vowed to stray away from any substances, she needed to find a new way to aid her nerves. Val made a habit of consuming warm drinks before shows, much like she was doing now. And the bassist tried to get distracted by engulfing herself in a sheltered wall of melody, allowing the strums to wash her away into the sea.
