#oof gotta love that instagram quality | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dyscrasia-eucrasia · 4 years

Photo

Part 3

<<Prev | Next>>

"So how was that show you went to last night?" Javier asked as he preened in front of the mirror.

"Oh my god, it was so, so good," Angel replied as he peeled off his shirt and folded it. "Totally worth taking off a Saturday for. I actually got to talk to the lead singer for one of the bands and he was so gorgeous."

"Yeah? Tell me you got pictures."

"I got a couple when they were playing, here, come look." He motioned Javier over and retrieved his phone from his locker.

Opening up his photo gallery, he'd already pushed the photos from the show down under a wall of selfies, most of the same angle and expression, with only the most minute of differences.

"Girl," Javier said, clicking his tongue as he looked over Angel's shoulder, "you are so conceited."

"Shut up, I am not. This is advertising."

"Sure it is, Miss 'I'm a thousand followers away from ten K.' I saw your post begging for brand deals. Hey, if you get those flat tummy teas to sponsor you, you can do a post about how they flush out your system so you can take a ton of dick."

"Oh my godddd," Angel laughed. "You are such a bitch! Do you want to see these pics or not?"

"Yaaaas, show me!"

"Here," Angel tapped a photo and it expanded to fill the screen. It was probably the best picture he'd gotten at the show, one of Demie as he'd growled into the mic, his long hair cascading on either side of his face, which was half cast in shadow by the stage lights. Angel was especially fond of the way the shadows highlighted Demie's long, gaunt face, and the way the fake horns curled up around his ears.

"...Girl," Javier said. His tone didn't sound like he was impressed. More like he was being judgemental.

"What?"

"That is like, one of the ugliest dudes I've ever seen."

"What? No he isn't, he's hot A.F."

"Giiiirl, you can't be serious. Look at that ratty-ass beard! Oh my god, could you imagine trying to kiss someone with one of those?"

"Oh whatever, you think bald old men are hot."

"Nooo, I think Daddies are hot, not every old guy is a Daddy."

"Ugh, gross."

"You won't think it's so gross when I'm married to a hot rich old guy who dies and leaves me his mansion," Javier said, giving Angel a little shove and heading back over to the mirror.

"That's right, I forgot your idea of romance is murder," Angel shot back. Javier shot him a look, pursing his lips, and gave Angel the finger before heading out of the locker room.

Angel laughed to himself. He took another look at the picture of Demie. He'd taken surprisingly few photos of the show - something about the music had just taken such a strong grip on him that he'd forgotten to document the experience. In a way, it had felt too intimate to post on Instagram with a long-winded caption about how much he loved music or whatever.

Plus, he preferred to tag artists in his posts, and despite doing a lot of digging, he hadn't been able to find any social media presence for Bacchus at all. No Instagram, no Twitter, no Spotify, not even a Bandcamp page. He'd even scrolled back through nearly a hundred of Marius' Instagram posts, looking for a picture of Demie or Elaine, but both were notably absent.

That tracked, he guessed, considering Demie had said he didn't have a phone, but he could've sworn he saw Elaine on one. Surely she posted something about them, at least to let fans know if they had a show coming up. But all he'd been able to find was a post on a heavy metal Subreddit with a low-quality recording of the band, asking if it was true that Marius used to play for them. There were only two replies - one reporting that Marius had said in an interview that he used to play bass for an indie band, and another saying that Marius' music sucked.

Angel sighed, thinking that he should've gotten a selfie with the band, to memorialize the show for himself if no one else. With that thought, he put his phone back in his locker and stripped down, changing into a g-string and heading out onto stage.

He liked his job, for the most part. He enjoyed the freedom of being openly, luridly sexual in front of others. He enjoyed feeling like he had a power over the men who came into the club. It was a power he didn't really get elsewhere. Sure, he was tall and muscular for an Asian man, but in comparison to the average American, he was still short, and in the local gay scene he was expected to be a submissive little bottom.

Not that there was anything wrong with being a bottom. He definitely was one. But he didn't appreciate the way he was expected to be a doormat for tops.

When he was dancing, though, he held the power. And he loved that feeling.

He didn't love when drunk guys tried to get handsy, though. And he didn't love having to pay to work the club, nor did he enjoy how unreliable the pay was. Some nights he could pull upwards of $600, others he struggled to get $100. Taking a Saturday off for the sake of a concert was an especially unwise move, since weekend nights were the best financially.

He didn't really regret it, though. He was glad he'd gone to the show and had the opportunity to meet Demie. The singer occupied his mind the entire day, so much so that, after the club closed for the night and he got home, he pulled out his phone and dialed Demie's number, already saved to his contacts.

The phone rang four times, and he was ready - albeit let down - to accept that Demie had given him a fake number when a female voice finally answered.

"Hello?" She asked groggily.

"Um… is Demie there?" He asked.

"Who the fuck…" He could hear her say, though it sounded like she'd held the phone away from her. Her voice came back louder and asked, "Can I ask who's calling?"

"This is Angel, Demie gave me this number after the show last night?"

"Jesus fucking…" Her voice got muffled, but he could make out that she was shouting Demie's name.

After shouting Demie's name twice, Angel could just barely make out Demie's voice shouting something back.

"Phone! It's that guy from the show," Elaine shouted. There was some weird feedback, like she was rubbing the mouthpiece of the phone on her shirt, and then a clatter as the phone was handed over.

"Hello?" Demie asked.

"Hi, this is Angel. We met the other night."

"Dude, it's like four in the morning."

"Oh! Oh shit, you're right. Sorry, I work nights. I can call back later…"

"Nah, it's cool, I was already up."

Angel could hear Elaine shout something that sounded like 'I fucking wasn't.' Demie grumbled something and a few seconds later there was the sound of a door slamming shut.

"What's up?" Demie asked. He made an 'oof' sound, like he was flopping down on a bed or chair.

"What's your band's Instagram handle?"

"Oh. We don't do that shit."

"Seriously? What about Spotify? Or Bandcamp?"

"What are those?"

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Never heard of them."

"Where do you sell your music, then?"

"Uh… I've got some cassette tapes that we used to sell at shows. They're old stuff though, back when Mar was still in the band. Why, do you wanna buy one?"

"Holy shit," Angel said with a laugh, tossing himself down on his futon. "What fucking decade did you walk out of?"

"What? Tapes are cool. I don't know why anyone would want some e-file digital copy on their iPod or whatever when they could have a physical copy."

"God, you sound like a hipster."

"I don't really know what that means but I'll take it as a compliment."

There was a brief lapse in the conversation. Angel wasn't sure what to say. The more he found out about Demie, the more quaint he seemed. It was oddly endearing, knowing that there was no way Demie would've seen his Instagram. He never would've seen the airbrushed photos or the flirty stories or the pics of beautifully crafted breakfasts that he never actually ate because he had to maintain his abs for the sake of his job.

In a world where everyone had to put their best self on display at all times for a digital audience, Demie had no expectations. He didn't see Angel-the-wannabe-micro-influencer. There was something beautifully vulnerable in that.

"So what are you doing up at 4am?" Angel eventually asked.

"Eh… I was writing some music. Haven't really done much since Mar moved out, but I dunno… I just kinda got this flash of inspiration. Just gotta see where it takes me, y'know?"

"No, I get it. Back when I was in school, I just couldn't write essays during the day, somehow the words only came to me when I'd been up past midnight."

"Hm. Yeah."

"Can I ask what the song's about, or is it like… trade secret stuff?"

"Yeah, no, it's cool. You ever heard of Orpheus?"

"Oh, yeah. A friend of mine is in love with that one musical, what's it called? Hadestown?"

"Oh shit, they made a musical out of that? I thought it was just an album."

"See, I didn't know it was an album first."

"That's cool. So this song's more about the original myth…"

#writers on tumblr #writing #original fiction #original characters #lgbt fiction #gay fiction #wright's writing #w:demie and angel

9 notes · View notes