Tao felt like he was moving in slow motion through the mercury lights, his feet gliding through the fog to find purchase on the stage surface. This sort of feeling often overwhelmed him when he took to the stage-- like his body was passing through a sieve his consciousness was too heavy to cross. His mind lagged as it fought against that barrier, his hand raised in greeting, the cheering crowd pulsing through the frantic heartbeat in his head. The scattered flashes of cameras and phones joined in, and it bundled together into a rising tide of static.
The Battle of the Bands producers had been kind this week. For the weekly challenge, they assigned each band one of their competitor's songs to cover, and naturally, OMOGO was granted the displeasure of performing a Soft Violence song.
When he had heard, Tao's attempt to hide the downward twist of his mouth had turned it into an all-out grimace. Not even for a second could they have a rest.
He had listened to Seven's band ever since they took the stage by storm, telling himself that it was just to keep up with what his… whatever Seven was to him. To keep tabs on how his music was branching away from what he and Tao had made together. Honestly, Tao found Soft Violence too typical for the genre, but something about it felt so familiar and comfortable that it kept him crawling back like a pathetic animal.
But no matter how he felt about it, "Damaged Veins" was Soft Violence's song, and they only had two days of practice to make it OMOGO's.
The roiling in Tao's stomach spiked as gentle piano notes chimed through his earpiece. The song started soft, and the tune was suddenly unfamiliar, even as he could feel himself mouth the words into the mic. A rare smoothness takes his voice, one Tao denied himself too often. This was not an OMOGO song.
"If it was all meant to break apart in my veins…" A vague tinge of memory was Tao's only warning before a chord from Rowan's guitar rippled over the stage and through his body, violently thrusting Tao back into himself. Electricity hummed in his fingertips, at the skin of his lips. He yanked the microphone from the stand, and he was off.
It's not that he thought the original "Damaged Veins" was boring… Tao was just bored playing it. Now, a new break between the first verse and chorus, a new intro on the guitar, supported by Iris's keys, Devyn biding her time, waiting to build… The rolling thunder of August's drums. God, they were good. OMOGO took the song, ripped it apart, and remade it. It was everything he wanted.
Riding the energy, Tao found himself moving as he leapt into the chorus. "We're the last ones left to see the night, I'm losing you to the satellites…"
A small part of his brain, a part usually blinded into oblivion by the lights, wondered if Seven would be angry that he took so many liberties with his music. What, am I not good enough for you? Seven snapped in his mind, folding his arms tight against his body.
Shut up. You've always been perfect, Tao argued. It's so hard to make anything from me good enough. My guts are rancid, stinking, foul, and every time I make music, I rip them out and splash paint on them and polish them for hours until I think that maybe for a second I can make someone call them beautiful. It's so easy for you. Your heart and blood and bones are perfect.
Second verse. It passed in a blur. Tao's tendons were entangled in Iris's countermelody, his steps driven by the bass. The band slowed, stretching the lines as if a weight had fallen over them. Following in its stead, Tao lowered himself to his knees. He's vaguely aware of a pop somewhere in his head, a feeling rather than a sound. "The weight of it all rests on my damaged veins…"
A wetness slid over his lip, but Tao ignored it and rolled right into the chorus. But before long, the taste of copper bloomed in his mouth. A quick finger to his nostril revealed a brilliant spot of red. Nosebleed. Now?! The static, once pushed to the edges, flooded his mind once more.
Somehow, only seconds had passed. He could feel himself singing, but he's no longer aware of how. His legs burned as he slowly rose back to his feet, his shoulders hunched as he passed another hand under his chin. He could feel the heavy droplets rolling down, but he only managed to smear red over his mouth and palm. Something else in his mind took over, a lone refuge alone in the madness, that reminded him to keep his head tilted forward. It's a gruesome sight, he's sure, as more and more blood coursed from his nose. But he had to keep it out of his throat. Had to keep his sinuses clear.
He's still singing. The band seemed to be following his lead-- the instruments behind him matched the desperation spilling from his nose. Tao was certain that they didn't even fully know why, but it didn't even matter. Right now, on this stage, OMOGO was a singular animal.
There was supposed to be a bridge following the chorus, but he couldn't remember it. The words crumbled into nothing and vanished, the tune bleeding out and turning to static. The energy was rising, and there was nothing left in their wake, not even a shadow or a grave.
So Tao just screamed. A wailing, ringing, beautiful explosion from his belly. Tao felt like he was dying. He was twisting and writhing in one last ecstatic agony. The riff carried high, and when it was over, he did it again, exactly the same, vaguely aware that he had to sell it.
Mercifully, for a moment, Tao could stop. Hellishly, only for a few bars, as OMOGO took over for the instrumental break. He wiped his bloody hand on his shirt, leaving a stark red handprint on the white fabric.
The crash of a cymbal jerked Tao back to life. Silence rang in his ears as he brought the microphone back to his lips. Iris's keys were calm once again, like the turbulent oceans were struck flat at August's command. Tao sucked a breath through his teeth, all that he could without inviting a drop of blood into his lungs to choke him at last. "If it was all meant to break apart in my veins," he sings, the notes leaving his throat in a near-whisper. And it was done.
Tao blinked, and all of a sudden, he was in a chair backstage, a strong yet gentle hand tilting his head back as bundles of tissues were shoved into his hand. The static in his mind was subsiding at last, and Tao made a small noise of wonder as he realized it was fading into the sound of a screaming, cheering audience. The noise must have been mistaken for a sound of discomfort, because the hand vanished, leaving behind an absent chill on the back of Tao's neck.
"'M fine," he mumbled automatically as Orion stepped back. A tissue box nearly collided with his face seconds before Devyn appeared like a ghost on the other side. She didn't say anything, just stared at him with those pale eyes. The production assistant holding the tissue box stumbled as Rowan crowded in, too.
"Tao, ohmygod they love us! Jesus!" He gagged and whirled away. The empty spot he left behind was immediately filled in by Iris.
"I don't know what he expected," she commented drily. She grabbed the tissue box from the PA and shooed her away. The PA wasn't gone for long before she was joined by another body, a medic, who not-too-gently moved Devyn aside.
"I'm fucking fine!" Tao snapped, on his feet in an instant. Bad idea. A wave of nausea hit him, and sparks lit up his vision. His ass was back in the plastic seat in an instant, and the familiar faces of his friends were gone, ushered away by a traitorous Orion as he attempted to control the crowd that was itching to form. August hadn't joined in, but they're hovering a little bit aways, pretending not to stare. Tao couldn't help but feel embarrassed under their discreet gaze. Looking around, he bared his teeth at the nearest camera lens, but he looked pathetic with the tissues jammed up into his nostrils.
Cory stood not too far away either, speaking rapidly to both another producer and a phone, her knuckles white where she gripped her clipboard.
A hand clamped on Tao's shoulder, making him jump.
"Can you stand?" Orion murmured. "They need us to clear out." He gestured behind him to the next band standing awkwardly further back in the wings. Gritting his teeth, Tao nodded and forced himself upright.
As they walked to the nearest green room, Cory pushed past the set medic, the clicking of her heels somehow echoing a rising wave of irritation through the hallway. Her mouth was set in a steely smile.
"Tao," she started, tapping her clipboard with a well-manicured finger. "Tao, Tao, Tao. You are a gift. Truly." It was impossible to tell if she was being sarcastic. Her eyes seemed like they should be twitching.
"Is there a reason you need to speak with us right now?" Orion demanded flatly, his hand still tight around Tao's bicep. Tao took a moment to pretend the heat in his face and stomach was from the blood loss, but it's soon lost in a flush of anxiety as Cory swiveled her sparkling ire between them.
"I always have a reason, Ori dear." She pointed a pen at Tao and continued before Orion could respond. "That nosebleed of yours could very well invalidate your entire performance."
NO. "What?!" Tao snarled.
"It could," Cory continued. "If it was real."
"What?" Tao repeated, all the heat behind it evaporating into confusion.
The pen started to spin between Cory's slender fingers. "The problem with blood on live television is that, frankly, it's disgusting. The network would have a fit. It'd have to be cut out entirely. But…" she drew out the last word, the smirk making it even more oily. "Oh, Tao. It looked fabulous on camera."
It looked good on camera. Over here, it's better lighting. Do it again. No, don't block them-- cheat to the left. We need you to push this conflict. Do it again, but faster. Can you cry? Look here. Do it again, Tao, do it again for the camera.
This production was draining him dry. Part of him wished he bled out on the stage.
"So!" Cory chirped, either oblivious to Tao's discomfort or simply uncaring. "We called Paige in, and we're going to get some shots of you getting some squibs applied, and it's all going to be part of the show. You even hid it from your bandmates to get a better reaction, so sneaky of you."
"But I didn't-- They know I sometimes--" Static. Tao looked to Orion for help. "What the fuck?"
The muscles were jumping in his manager's jaw, but Orion wasn't objecting. Cory was right. They had to keep the performance airable.
Syllables caught in Tao's throat as he floundered. "You can't lie to the band," he managed to choke out. "I won't let you."
Cory tutted sadly. "Well, I can't stop you, hon. But we need to sell this in the confessionals. I've already laid out a plan with the other producers. Henry is talking to them right now."
Tao tore his arm out of Orion's grip and stalked back to the stage doors, but they burst open before he could touch the handles. The rest of OMOGO strode out. Rowan almost collided with Tao as he rushed out.
"Seriously?" Iris snapped, crossing her arms. A cameraman slid out behind her and pointed the lens at them all.
"We thought you were going to die, dude!" Rowan added.
"What the fuck?" Tao gaped. "Are you guys fucking stupid? No!" His voice was rising, the rush of anxiety dragging frustration up with it.
Devyn cut in, their fingers pushing Tao back a little. "We'll see you in the green room. You get cleaned up, and we'll talk then." Without another word, they brushed past him, and the rest followed. At least August was kind enough to give him a sympathetic grimace before they turned away.
"I'm only looking out for you, you know," Cory said from behind him. She raised an amused brow as he turned on her, his hands clenched into fists and his teeth bared. "It's my job. I take all these uncut gems, clean and polish them, and let them shine." Her hand was suddenly in Tao's face, and he jerked back instinctually. Cory's condescending laugh made the playful tap on the tip of his nose feel like a hammer.
The metronomic clack of her heels filled the beige hallway as she departed, each tick threatening to shatter him like his body was made of glass. Every day was a new exercise in seeing how much he could take before breaking.
Tao swallowed hard as he forced his hands to unclench, each muscle more brittle than the last. His fingers were still smeared with the darkening rust of dried blood that crumbled away as he scraped at it with a fingernail. It was all in there: music. it pumped through his veins and kept him alive, kept his body and soul from giving out. They wanted to stick him and bleed him for all he's got, but when he spilled it all over the stage, it was disgusting.
He was vaguely aware of Orion trying to get his attention, but he was sick of being bounced between handlers. Slapping away a hand in his periphery, Tao retreated-- away from the cameras, out of the beige funnel shunting band after band into the maw of the stage, into a random room where he could let his knees buckle. Pressing his back against a wall, he breathed. He could breathe and bleed alone in the dark. In peace.
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