"Please wont you push me for the last time," I sing as I pull on my pre-ripped black drainpipes and black and white sempiternal album tee. I straiten my hair and make sure the blue and purple peek-a-boos are dominant. I put on a little bit of makeup, pressed powder, eyeliner and mascara with a little bit of cherry chap-stick. Bright lipsticks don't do much for me except look absolutely terrifying.
I lace up my black and white converse and go downstairs to the kitchen. Angel sits at the table texting someone. She's dressed in red skinny jeans, a Bring Me The Horizon tee and knee high black boots that she adores dearly. Her makeup is really nice, eyeliner and mascara make here eyes stand out, the green and gold specks especially.
* * *
We arrive at the stadium earlier than needed. An hour in advance, but we made good use of our time because we just walked around mindlessly until the show started.
We listen to the pre-arranged list of songs and I can sing along to each one of them, better than Angel. She doesn't know all the lyrics so I know she's just singing bits and pieces and than her funny way of covering up what she doesn't know. "Dun, dun, dun, dun, dun!"
It never ends.
Pray for plaques.
I can list all of them off and never forget.
After the show, the stadium clears out quickly and Angel and I stay behind to go backstage to meet, Oliver Sykes! Holy mother of fuckers of dicks and bitch and OH MY GOD DAMN! Oliver is the definition of perfection. The sleeves on his arms his voice...everything.
"You the girls with backstage passes?" Asks a African American man with tattoos on his arms, hands and neck.
'Yeah, that would be us," Angel answers.
"Not from here?"
"Nope, from Newfoundland but you don't take the boys there so, we moved," Angel jokes.
A sarcastic laugh escapes the man and he leads us backstage like dogs on leashes. A room that has the sign with 'Bring Me The Horizon' in big bold white lettering is what we stop at and the man opens the doors.
I feel so shaky and Angel is jittery. My hands fidget with my fingers and I feel all hot and sweaty, ew.
"Hello," Greets the one and only, Oli pop...my love.
I can't speak. I stare at him blankly and can't break my gaze. "Hi!" I choke out with over excitement. Oliver smiles at me.
After about an hour and a half of talking, I honestly don't know how we go that long, Oliver writes something on a slip of paper and hands it to Brigid. I catch a glimpse of Lee shooting a warning look at Oliver, but he doesn't see it himself. Brigid shrieks with happiness and takes out her phone, punching the buttons with a little to much force. Oliver gave her his number. She looks like she's about to puke up rainbows, and when Brigid looks like she's about to puke rainbows, she's really fucking happy.
* * *
We head back to my house and Zack is passed out on the couch with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. What'd I tell him about drinking full bottles of Jack? Well, if we have to bring him to the hospital in the morning...Jesus help me.
Brigid's had a little scotch as well, even though she said she didn't want to be like Andy and Matt Good, pretend parent drinking scotch with his son. *Bryan Stars joke*
"What the fuck?" Brigid slurs, "Will you be my black veiled bride?" Oliver must be drunk texting...
Counting the days to the wedding. Exactly two weeks. I hyperventilate for a moment or two and than remember I have a sleepy Niall on my lap. He's droopy eyes look up at me and he smiles. Just two weeks and I'll be married to this fool.