we're going to the c i t y [open]

[pete monroe]

Baby don't you try to find me.
Baby don't you try to fight.
Baby don't you try to find me.
Baby, it will be all right.

___________________________

It was a dark and stormy night, as they like to put it most often. It was a dark and stormy night as Pete Monroe made his way across the quad to the practice hall. It wasn't that he needed the practice, in fact he probably could have put that time into actually building relationships or something of use like that. But Pete Monroe wasn't like most of the other students at Hoffman, it was a Friday night and even Jae was out partying but Pete felt like he had better things to do. There is a time for drinking and there is a time for music to be your high. Tonight was one of the latter nights. He had his guitar in it's case as his black boots made muddy footprints on the white concrete leading to the practice hall. He was so use to Hoffman these days that he didn't even have to look where he was going. He kept his eyes on the ground and eventually his feet took him right to the front door.

Maybe it was the fact that he had spent the last seven years of his life alone, that made the practice hall feel like home with its empty seats and it's cool silence that radiated peace everywhere. All Pete had to do was push open the door and close it behind him and all his thoughts were on his music now. He made his way up the short aisles to the stage and took the stairs two by two. He went to the back of the stage pulling out the biggest amp he could find and the best microphone out of the stash that the school kept there. He thought about it for a second and then pulled out three more amp stacking them right next to the microphone. Who else would hear him? Who else was at the practice hall on a Friday night? No one, and that was just the way that Pete liked it.

He took his Fender Jaguar, his favorite guitar as of now. It had been his father's, the one of the most precious things that he had inherited from him. Practically the only thing compared from his love of music. Once everything had been hooked into the right place, Pete flipped down the sunglasses that covered half of his face. They were like his good luck charm that he never took off when he could help it. He brushed his shaggy dishwater blonde hair out of his eyes before his fingers found the fretboard and his lips pushed against the microphone. With all the emotion he could muster, he ripped the opening cords, his monotonous voice following through. It was hard to describe the feeling that he got in his bones when he sang and played. It was if no one else in the world was there except him, and sometimes that was just what he needed.

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[Dalia Fable]

[ dalia fable ]

I wanna rock-n-roll
I wanna give my soul
I'm wanting to believe
I'm not too old
Don't want to make it up
Don't want to let you down
I want to fly away
But I'm stuck on the ground

So, help me decide
Help me to make up
Make up my mind
Wouldn't that save you
Wouldn't that save you
Wouldn't that save you

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Many would say in their cliched ways that the rain was cleansing, a way to rid yourself of the horrible feelings that were currently controlling your emotions. Though Dalia was a hopeless romantic and tended to smile at warm little things like that, this one about the rain definitely didn't go with her way of thinking. She was more of a, 'true love never dies' type of person. So as the rain came down in slanted sheets of ice cold droplets, she heads for the nearest hall with visible lights, desperately wanting to seek refuge from this growing, angry storm.

Although she had gone to this school for a while, she did not know her way around very well. She knew how to get to the basic places and extras for her dance classes, but otherwise was hopeless for lack of a better word.

Once inside the door frame, she peels off her wet jacket and drops it over one of the vents. Her hair had survived, just the tips of it wet, courtesy of her hood. She takes a moment to rub her numb hands against her wet jeans, hoping they would thaw out sooner or later. This building was eerily silent, which kind of bothered her - she didn't like the feeling she got when she didn't know where she was, especially when it was as quiet as this.

Deciding to take a look around she heads off towards a corridor. It was a lot like the dance hall, so she assumed it could possibly be the music hall. A door was open so she slowly heads over to where it was; before she reached it, sound suddenly filled every square inch of the hall, confirming her earlier suspicions. She was startled momentarily but managed to compose herself quite well, reaching the door and leaning against its frame. There was an attractive boy singing and working quite professionally a guitar. She had no idea how he would react when he noticed someone watching him, but didn't want to be rude and interrupt him. As he continued, she couldn't help but smile - he was passionate in what he was doing, like he meant every chord and lyric.

She wondered what he was like; if he was as broken as she was, simply composed on the outside but crumbling on the inside. Or maybe he was one of those spoiled rich kids that got everything they wanted and acted like they lead a hard life to get sympathy from girls.

Watched it all go by
Was it really true
Is that what it was?
Was that really you?

I'm looking back again
Tracing back the threads
You said I was a mess
Or was it just in my head

[pete monroe]

Baby don't you try to find me.
Baby don't you try to fight.
Baby don't you try to find me.
Baby, it will be all right.

___________________________

Pete being a hardcore musician always had liked to watch other people preform. It wasn’t that he was trying to rip them off or to judge them against he was. Pete just had a thing for watching the emotions that other people put into their songs. He liked to compare it against the artists. They liked to stare at other people’s work for hours on end, they liked to see the emotions that they put into it. That was what Pete did with his hobby. He loved to watch what they were feeling with each emotion that they put into the song. The best bands could show all these emotions in one simple song, they could convey a different feeling to every single person who was listening to their music.

Pete stopped after his first song, only letting his fingers leave the fretboard for a moment to brush away his shaggy blonde hair from his dark sunglass. It might have been the fact that the sunglasses made everything so dark that it really looked like there was nothing else around him while he was playing. His fingers found the frets again, however he did wish that he had at least though to bring the recording of the back band. He was just going to have to make due with his own guitar.

It's way too late to be this locked inside ourselves
The trouble is that you're in love with someone else
It should be me. Oh, it should be me
Your sacred parts, your getaways
You come along on summer days
Tenderly, tastefully

And so may, we make time
Try to find somebody else
This place is mine

You said today, you know exactly how I feel
I have my doubts little girl
I'm in love with something real
It could be me, that's changing

And so may, we make time
To try and find somebody else
Who has a line

Now seasoned with health
Two lovers walk a lakeside mile
Try pleasing with stealth, rodeo
See what stands long ending fast

Oh, how I love you in the evenings
When we are sleeping
We are sleeping. Oh, we are sleeping

And so may, we make time
We try to find somebody else
Who has a line

Now seasoned with health
Two lovers walk a lakeside mile
Try pleasing with stealth, rodeo
See what stands long, oh ending fast

Instead of letting it end so pretty, as the way that Pete normally did. He took his wahwah pedal and crashed out a G cord as he turned away from the microphone. His head rolled back so he wasn’t looking at the door or his guitar, he was just looking at the ceiling. Then he started to rip out the cords of Purple Haze being completely unaware of what his fingers were doing. He normally knew what he was going to play when he came here for his night session but today it just seemed like everything wanted to come out, from love songs, to songs about getting high. He kept his eyes on the ceiling throughout the entire song, not wanting to sing for this. It was one thing to sing love songs it was another to sing Jimi Hendrix.

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[Dalia Fable]

Watched it all go by
Was it really true
Is that what it was?
Was that really you?

The rain was coming down so hard now that if Pete hadn't been playing so loud, it would have drowned the entire building.

The longer Dalia leaned against the doorframe, the more evident it became that the guy on the stage hadn't noticed her, or was simply continuing as if she wasn't there. He had an unusual style; he was inside, and he was wearing massive, dark and tinted glasses. She thought it was unique, different, out of the realm closed-minded people dressed in. His music impressed her, to say the least. The way he managed to hold her attention with his music with and without singing, so naturally talented she didn't even have to ponder if he would stumble and make a mistake.

Deciding she had stood there long enough, she steps forward into the room. The music seemed to grow even louder, if at all possible. She knew speaking up would be useless. Her voice was so light, it would never cut through the notes. Sitting down would be too formal, like she was there for a concert. So she slows her stride, slowly heading to where the guy was, hoping she would finally come into his field of vision before she had to practically stand by his shoulder.

[pete monroe]

Baby don't you try to find me.
Baby don't you try to fight.
Baby don't you try to find me.
Baby, it will be all right.

___________________________

Pete ended the song, and suddenly it was dead silent in the hall. He tilted his head down looking at his guitar for a moment. Then he did a sort of dance, or not a dance a spin on the heel of his boot, so that his blonde hair whirled around his head and came to rest over his sunglasses. Without warning he sat down in front of all his amps and behind his microphone, without uttering a word. He plucked his guitar strings without even thinking of a tune. Then he stopped just like that, his fingers poised over the strings but he didn't pluck them.

Then he was aware of it, the other burst of breath in the hall that wasn't his. He shut his mouth not making a sound and yes there it was. Tentatively he took off his sunglasses, pushing them up into his hair so that it stuck out on the sides. There she was standing in the asiles watching him. He turned away from her not looking her in the eyes. Then he said in the voice that didn't match his singing voice,"Yes?" he wondered if the office had sent her to tell him to pack it in for the night, because he had to admit he was getting a bit loud.

He stood up, taking his guitar from where it was slung across his midsection. He held it by it's neck, the amps giving off the revert of his palm pressed against the strings. He gave a barely audible sigh and unplugged his guitar from the amp, dropping his pick on the floor as he did so.

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[Dalia Fable]

Watched it all go by
Was it really true
Is that what it was?
Was that really you?

It was weird, the feeling she had right now in this room. Like she was alone, yet there was a boy standing not even twenty feet away. Though the music filled her with a kind of content feeling, like it matched some of the emotions she had so much trouble understanding.

She wondered if he would stop or break for a moment to acknowledge her presence. She didn't want to turn on her heel and leave. What if he then decided to notice her, and wondered how long she had been there, or why she had been. She didn't want to appear strange, or anything of the like. So when he was finally silenced and gave her a moment, she almost felt relieved. "Sorry. I just needed out of the rain, this was the closest." She had no reason to lie, although her excuse did sound almost fake. "You're really talented." She was bad with conversations, especially ones that started like this. "I'm Dalia, by the way." She figured it was best to give him a name to use, rather then remaining an empty face.

[pete monroe]

Baby don't you try to find me.
Baby don't you try to fight.
Baby don't you try to find me.
Baby, it will be all right.

___________________________

It was weird being in the practice hall with another person. Pete always practiced alone ever since the time he spent here as a freshman, where the seniors and juniors got all the good practice spots. That's when learned that no one else used the hall at night and on the weekends unless it was a Saturday afternoon and most of them weren't sleeping off their hangover. That's when Pete had really started practicing mostly because there was nothing else to do. He knew some guys in a local London band who he went out with when he could. Sometimes they would play gigs together at different pubs and what not but most of the time Pete either went out on his own, trouble was easier to come by, or he stayed here.

Her next comments were to be expected. She wasn't a musician he would give her that. She would have known who 'Perfect Pete' was if she had been. The stupid nickname that had stuck with him, even though he was anything from perfect at least. Just because he sang and played guitar and practiced like a manic meant that he was perfect. If they only knew. Or she could be a new students, which would suck for her when she asked around about him. They'd tell her to stay away, or something of that nature. He had a thick skin anyway so it wouldn't matter in the least in the morning. The whole talented thing wasn't a surprise either.

He leaned his guitar up against the amp and turned back to her. He stuck his hands in his shallow pockets of his pants and bounced on his toes. He wondered if she was going to ask him to play a song or something that new people or none musicians would ask him to do. It wasn't that he minded just by tomorrow people would think he was a prick to. He shrugged at her when she said that he was good. So what? He knew he was good, everyone else did. What more was that. When she introduced herself her name rang a bell, maybe Jae had mentioned her once and while, but he didn't worry over it. Jae was a talker and Pete was a listener, even if a kind of shitty one he was a listener none the less. "Pete. Pete Monroe," he said again his voice bouncing around the empty hall. He stood their in silence, bitting his bottom lip and trying not to fidget.

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[Dalia Fable]

Watched it all go by
Was it really true
Is that what it was?
Was that really you?

She wondered if the dance wing was close by. If she had sucked it up and continued on through the rain, she probably could have found her way there within minutes and now be strengthening her core. However, she had wimped out and dove into the nearest building. Possibly there was a door somewhere that branched off into another building. She had never asked or looked to see if they were all somehow joined together.

She was intrigued by all the strange instruments and devices surrounding her in this practice room. Yes, she had seen guitars and speakers before, but this room was chock full of dozens of things all in dozens of different sizes, many she had never before laid eyes on. She stopped walking when she was at a respectable distance from Pete, eyes still shifting around the room. She wasn't amazed by the things inhabiting it, but she definitely was interested. The dance practice rooms looked nothing like this. The walls were lined with mirrors and a single bar.

His speaking voice was very different from his previous singing voice. She wondered if he had been lip syncing, then decided he probably wasn't since he had been practicing, thinking he was alone. As his name floated around the room, it run familiar in her mind. She wasn't sure why or from where, but knew later tonight it would probably randomly be answered. "Nice to meet you Pete." Her voice was light and sweet, and seething with innocence.

She observes him putting away his instruments, then snaps back, feeling rude and intrusive. "You're not stopping because of me are you?" Realizing the silliness of her question, she quickly carries on. "Okay, sorry, no. I mean, don't stop. I can leave, I'm sorry for interrupting you." Dalia stumbles over her words, desperately trying to recover herself, although embarrassing herself instead. To some it would probably almost be cute the way she got nervous around people she didn't know, but in her experience it seemed to annoy people, which was the exact reason she got so nervous and embarrassed when she fell into situations such as these.

[pete monroe]

Baby don't you try to find me.
Baby don't you try to fight.
Baby don't you try to find me.
Baby, it will be all right.

___________________________

He knew he could have just practiced in his dorm room. He didn't have any roommates yet, probably because everyone got to choose and no one wanted to room with Pete. It was a Saturday night and no one was in the dorms. Probably even the dorm master wasn't there, off for the weekend, or he had just drunk himself into a oblivion like most other nights where Pete had checked to see if anyone was around. However, Pete liked the practice room, it wasn't the same rush of energy he got when he was actually up on stage in front of class, but there was this high that he could reach where he was doing so well that night that it felt like there was applause even if the room was dead silent.

She was getting closer and closer to him, now on the stage with him. He didn't really mind it, he had made a point in his life to try to make it so that he was never there at all. If the Interpol had recruited him he would be the best spy in the entire world because no one saw Pete unless he wanted them to, or they just happened upon him in the empty practice room late at night. She was scanning over all the stuff that he had stacked around him. From the four feet tall amps to his guitar resting on the one closest to her. "Nice to meet you Pete,"He shrugged at that too, then he took his hands out of his pockets and removed his sunglasses from his hair, and hooked them in the V of his shirt.

Pete waited for a bit to answer the next of her questions. He heard the thunder crash above him and then lightning flash in one of the windows to the side of him. "So you aren't from the office," he said again taking his lighter out of his pocket and flicking it open and closed. "Normally every once and a while they tell me to pack it in," he said at the very end of it. He didn't notice her discomfort or at least feigned indifference very well to the whole scenero. "I wouldn't want to send you out in the rain, stay as long as you please," he said turning his back on her and moving to the window and watching the rain come down harder and faster with each passing minute.

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