2023-08-10 17:36![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doubled_speed in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thechurbymusebox
doubled_speed in thechurbymuseboxThey say that music soothes the savage beast. He tried it once, actually. Brought a boombox to one of their freaky supernatural encounters. Played some soothing tunes.
It did not, in fact, soothe savage extradimensionsl parasites and their minions that were trying to capture his brother to serve as a magical battery. Go figure.
What music did soothe, turned out, was the unending rush of thoughts and memories and plans that raced through Tommy's mind nightly. Music and bodies and lights, the heat and anonymity, the living in the moment of the clubs were what put all the rest at bay long enough for sleep to steal up on him. Or at least get close enough for him to snatch a few hours.
Kate looked at him with concern every morning. Said maybe it was time to go back East. To go back to his life. Tommy, of course, smiled and said of course, and was back on her couch every morning.
Tonight would be like the rest, different only in the choice of club. San Diego this time. A place with loud music that slammed and beat like his heart. A choice to pair well with the fact that he intended to stay until he was ready to crash tonight. Not as friendly as San Fran for people like him, but closer to LA and that was going to have to do.
The best part about the place be found tonight, of course, is just where he is now. A surprisingly sturdy raised platform that be wonders whether might have once been intended for paid dancers. He's seen clubs like those before. Never got the point. But it's a good place for him. A perfect place to be while the music throbs and he moves and laughs and winks at people watching him. Or maybe just gawking at him. How often do you see a barely 20-something with hair that is pure white dancing on a raised platform completely lacking shame or a shirt?
Never, that's how often. But hey, he does like the eyes on him so he doesn't mind it. When they look he feels alive. When they stare he doesn't feel alone.
It did not, in fact, soothe savage extradimensionsl parasites and their minions that were trying to capture his brother to serve as a magical battery. Go figure.
What music did soothe, turned out, was the unending rush of thoughts and memories and plans that raced through Tommy's mind nightly. Music and bodies and lights, the heat and anonymity, the living in the moment of the clubs were what put all the rest at bay long enough for sleep to steal up on him. Or at least get close enough for him to snatch a few hours.
Kate looked at him with concern every morning. Said maybe it was time to go back East. To go back to his life. Tommy, of course, smiled and said of course, and was back on her couch every morning.
Tonight would be like the rest, different only in the choice of club. San Diego this time. A place with loud music that slammed and beat like his heart. A choice to pair well with the fact that he intended to stay until he was ready to crash tonight. Not as friendly as San Fran for people like him, but closer to LA and that was going to have to do.
The best part about the place be found tonight, of course, is just where he is now. A surprisingly sturdy raised platform that be wonders whether might have once been intended for paid dancers. He's seen clubs like those before. Never got the point. But it's a good place for him. A perfect place to be while the music throbs and he moves and laughs and winks at people watching him. Or maybe just gawking at him. How often do you see a barely 20-something with hair that is pure white dancing on a raised platform completely lacking shame or a shirt?
Never, that's how often. But hey, he does like the eyes on him so he doesn't mind it. When they look he feels alive. When they stare he doesn't feel alone.
