|CARTERS POV|
Rhythm, Tone, Pitch, Intensity, Beat.. all these make music.
Different notes strung together by invisible threads that create sounds, pleasing to the ear... It's like someone's fate.. constantly intertwining with one another to create the beautiful Symphony of life...
"Carter are you even listening!?" I hear Andrews frustrated statement and just like that I'm snapped back into reality.
"Of course I am..." I say looking up from the electric guitar I'm hunched over, slender fingers still wrapped around the neck, tuning it.
"Then what did I just say?" He says folding his arms over his too muscled chest.
"That you're the best..?" I guess. I always use that line when I zone out or simply can't hear him through my good ear.
"Well, obviously," he flips his jaw long blonde hair dramatically, "but other than that."
I shrug not in the mood for making up stories.
He sighs. "Freddy called. We're on in two."
"And how long ago did he call?" I ask raising a brow.
"A few- shit we're gonna be late." He grabs my arm and hurrying backstage and I quickly grab my guitar following after him.
How Freddy gets us these gigs, I'll never know.
"Ah, Jordie, Calum there you are!" Freddy grins and I'm confused for a while until I see the guy next to him and Rufus.
The guy nods in a silent greeting and checks his schedule. "You're on in ten seconds."
Freddy drags us in front of the big red curtain and fixes our tuxes. He's the dad of the group, that's for sure.
Rufus stands there casually combing his light brown hair with his slender and dark skinned fingers, his grey eyes calm, leaning on his acoustic guitar. He's the quiet one. Well out of the stage that is...
Andrew has his 'special sticks' out ready to pound the drums that Freddy somehow managed to get on stage despite this being a classic show. He flicks his blond hair away from his blue eyes and winks at me. I roll my eyes holding back an excited smile.
Freddys fiery red hair makes him look like a punk star but we all know that he's a dork, with his huge glasses that's always perched on his high nose bridge giving his big brown eyes the vision that he's half- lost because of always having his nose in a book or glued to a screen.
"Break a leg" Andrew says grinning like a mad man.
"But never an arm," the rest of us mutter. It meant good luck.
I put my signature gas mask on and the curtain opens to reveal a shocked crowd.
__________
It'll get better the more you read, yeah? Beginnings were always my weak spot lol.
Vote and comment♡♡♡
YOU ARE READING
Rhythm Of The Colors
Teen FictionLiam Blake is an artist. Well, when he's alone that is... He's expected to be like the rest of his family, refined, elegant, successful and smart. But how much of it can you take, having to be someone you're not? Being in love with art isn't the on...
