Gorillaz: Blue

#gorillaz #stuartpot #2dgorillaz #2d #fanfiction #romance #band

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1. One: Acoustic Rhythm.

The cool winter breeze brushed against my flushed cheeks. My hands trembled whilst my fingers pressed against the strings of my acoustic guitar. My eyes dart down between my guitar and empty jar. Christmas is over, and it was clear no one had the spare change to give to a homeless person, or more and more people didn't want to hand out their hard earned cash to someone who can't even fend for themselves.

I strum the strings of my guitar, raising my head to see if anyone would be willing to give me something. Most kept their eyes straight forward, others flashed a glare towards me, and continued to walk.

Realizing this is hopeless, I pinch my lips together. Stopping my soft strum to lean against the building behind me.

My life used to not be like this. Before, I had a job, a home, and even went to a small university not far from here. That is why I came to England. To start the career I've always wanted, but here I am. Trapped in a foreign country. No family. Only one real friend.

Things could have been better; but clearly having a 'better' life is too much to ask for.

With a sigh, I pack up my only true treasure. Placing the acoustic guitar neatly inside of its heavy duty case. My tongue glides against my dry and chapped lips, hoping my saliva will work against the cold, but it only last momentarily. Gathering my empty pathetic jar, and bag filled with the little clothes I have, I make my way down the busy sidewalks.

I press my mouth against my thick wooly scarf as my high heeled boots crunched against the hard snow. My hands hid with in my leather jacket. As my legs attempted to find warmth within my thigh high stockings.

New Years is only two days away. The hype grows amongst the residence, causing every corner and shop to be crowded with greedy people. Usually, Christmas was one of the worst times to be in the city; however, people were almost more giving. New Years seemed to drag out the drunks and party goers who cared nothing about those who are less fortunate.

I turn the corner where Charlie's pub sat almost untouched by the large groups of money consuming folks. Pushing my bangs back to where they belong, I stand in front of the store, peering into the Christmas decorated windows. My good eye catches a blonde standing behind the bar, joking amongst the costumers.

The blondes blue eyes so happen to glance towards my direction. Her smile grows wider and she waves me in with her perfectly manicured hands. Smiling back, I make my way towards the door. Only to stop as my hands touched the rusty door knob.

A flyer taped against the door window catches my attention.

Lead guitarist wanted. Will be paid full time. Please contact us by number and/or fax.

With curiosity, I open the door leading into the pub. Making my way in, snatching the flyer from the window.

"Oi! Ray!" Rosa says from behind the counter.

I rise my head slowly, making my way through the crowd of tables and drunken customers. Placing my guitar case onto the empty bar counter, I take a seat in my usual chair. Tilting my head at the messy hand writing. "What's this?" I questioned, placing the flyer onto the counter in between me and Rosa.

"Sum kid with blue hair put 'em up," Rosa speaks in her usual thick accent. Placing a glass of water in front of me. "Not too long ago, actually. Why, yah thinkin' about call em', eh?"

My tongue glides over my lips yet again whilst I peal my leather jacket from off of my hoody. Growing hot by the sudden warm air.

"I don't know - I don't think I'm good enough," I admit. Taking a small sip of water, placing my palm onto my frozen cheek.

"Oh, wha'eva. You're talented! Wished yah see what I and many others can see."

It isn't like I don't know I'm talented. Hell, I was born to rock this world with my garter leggings and my beat up acoustic guitar. But to drop my pathetic solo act seemed a bit, scary.

"Rosa, you're a bartender. You tell everyone that -"

"Awe! I don't do that to you! Clearly you ain't a paying customa - I don't have to sweet talk yah." Rosa winked, before placing her elbows onto the wooden counter. Her blue eyes looked onto my own, as she continue to smile at me. "I'm only tellin' the truth."

"Why don't yah go play? I'm sure Charlie won't mind it." Rosa sighed, pushing herself away from the counter, grabbing a recently washed glass mug, and clean dry rag. "Prove yah self wrong, why don't yah."

A smile escape my pouty lips.

Rosa was always kind and gentle towards me. Since the day I moved to Essex, the Bartender gave me food, water, and a place to sleep in their guest bedroom. Although, I would have rather taken a job, but with the economy being shit - Rosa and her husband couldn't hire any employees.

Charlie owned the pub.

( Hence; Charlie's pub )

The business man is the quiet type, keeping to himself. Allowing his thoughts to flutter through his balding head. He always clinches his jaw, and mumbles under his breath. You would have thought the man was always angry, but behind the scrunched up brooding face; Charlie is one of the nicest men on this plant. Possibly the whole universe.

Taking one more sip from my glass of water, I slip from off of the high stool chair, and unbuckle my guitar case. Opening the case with a sly smile, my fingers grasp the neck of my guitar, pulling it from out of the bed of the case. Placing the straps over my narrow shoulders, I make my way towards the makeshift stage sitting by the large windows.

Planting myself onto the wooden stool. Fixing the mic, and placing my fingers against the thick wire like strings. My eyes flicker towards the small crowd half paying attention, and half glaring into their fizzy adult drinks.

"This song is called, 'Holidays In The Sun.' By Sex Pistols."

One drunken man lets out a loud whoop, following behind scattered clapping hands. Leaning a few inches away from the mic, my fingers start to dance across the strings. Playing a soft version of the harsh chords. My eyes close, and my mouth opens.

"A Cheap holiday in other people's misery.

I don't wanna holiday in the sun.

I wanna go to new Belsen.

I wanna see some history,

'Cause now I got a reasonable economy."

The words pour from out of my lips. I allow the music to take over. Allow the chords and rhythm to sink deep into my skin, and soul. My voice boomed. My head slightly tilt as my vocal cords hit a high note. My heart raced against my chest, fluttering with delight. This high from performing gives me meaning to my meaningless life. Giving me what I've been missing for nearly two years. Just as the song had started, the last verse ends.

The last strum echoes through the large speakers standing shy at the edge of the stage.

Small unison clapping hands follow behind the silence. Signaling me to open the eyes that had been shut the whole entire time. Forgetting that I was merely singing in a pub that barely had 10 people; I'm taken aback by the scenery. Becoming disappointed.

"Dat waz amazin!" Spoke a wheezing high pitched voice to my right.

My head swivel towards a young man with shocking blue hair. His eyes are huge, yet black. There's no sign of pupils, or sclera. Just two large dark dents underneath his thick bushy brows. He held a stack of flyers in hand, pink lips slightly open. Showing off his two front missing teeth.

"Oh - well - thank you," I thank whilst taking the strap of my acoustic guitar from off of my shoulders.

The man stood a few feet away from me, seeming to be in awe with my cover of Sex Pistols. I glance down towards the stack of flyers resting upon his broad, large hands. The same flyer I had taken down from the front door of the pub, matched the ones he held.

So, this is the man Rosa was talking about. He didn't look like anything special. More like a pretty boy who had dropped out of college to play in a underground, underrated band.

"Do 'ou play in ah band?" Blue questioned.

"No. I don't actually, I play solo."

"Oh," is the only thing Blue says as I slide from off of the wooden stool. Holding my guitar by its neck. I make my way down the small stage, turning my back, and stagger my way back towards the bar. Having enough talk with the strange looking dude.

Rosa still stood behind the counter. Talking with a few locals. I place my guitar back into its case, closing it with a snap of my wrist. Catching Rosa's attention with a quick wave, I turn towards the door, ready to leave - only to come face to face with Blue.

My brows furrow, as I hug my large guitar case tightly against my chest. Thinking he would have got the hint that I was done talking, Blue would just wander off. Bother someone else other then me. Yet, here he stood. Towering over me, with a goofy smile settling amongst his face.

"Can I help you?" I question with curiosity, and caution. One brow cocked as he shifted his weight onto one leg.

"Mi name is, Stuart Pot. Not Stupot, or Tusspot. Stuart Pot, but everyone calls mi, 2D."

2D carefully balance the flyers onto one hand, reaching out his free hand. Gesturing at me to shake it. My eyes flicker towards his long fingers, studying them, searching his palms. After a few moments of looking at his hands like they were riddled with diseases. I slip my gloved hands into his, wrapping my fingers around the back of his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Raya, Raya Lopez. Most people call me, Ray."

2D continues to shake my hand, smiling at me look some star struck teen.

"Er, you can let go of my hand now -"

"Oh!" 2D says before letting out a nervous laugh. His hand lets go, and reaches the back of his neck, rubbing it with a nervous tick. "I came 'ere for da flyas. Gave em ou' by mistake." 2D paused, letting out yet another nervous chuckle.

What's up with this dude? I thought to myself, watching him search for the correct words he wanted to say. Like he was trying his best not to say the wrong words.

"Yah see, I waz s'uppose to hand out fhese flyas, 'bout a week ago -" 2D says, showing me the flyers he held in hand. "We al'ready picked a lead guitarist yesterday mornin'. Didn't realize dat till a few minutes ah go."

"Waz plannin' tur just get da flyas near by. When I walked in - ye waz playin n' singin'. Dhen I fhought ye'd be perfect fer our band, Da Gorillaz. Yah have da look, n' da skills -"

I raise my hand, having enough of his broken English and  explanation about why he was here. 2D's mouth stops blabbing. His wide eyes fall towards my hand, brow slightly cocked. Joining a band I've never heard of was the last thing I wanted, I don't want to be paid pennies and dimes. If I wanted that, I'd just go back outside, sit on the sidewalks, and play jingles.

"I'm sorry, Stuart - but I don't have time to join a band. I have a job," I lie.

"No, yah don't."

"What?" I questioned, brows narrow with suspicion.

"I pass by yah every so of'en. Yah always sittin' a few blocks a'way. Playin wiff  yah guitar."

I swallow with guilt, looking away from 2D with knitted brows. He knew what my situation is. He'd seen me plenty of times before, probably given me change once or twice before. Why hadn't I recognized his face? Maybe when he saw me and walked past me my head was low. Keeping my eyes attached to my (always) empty change jar. Does he really want me in his band, or was he just pitying me? With shame, I move past him. Leaving the pub with my head slightly low.

Pressing my scarf against my lips, the sound of the pub door opens. 2D rush behind me, catching up with me with in a matter of seconds. Damn these short legs.

"Ray! Did I say somefin?" 2D rushes in front of me, blocking me from going any further. My eyes dart towards the people who move past us, feeling a bit embarrassed. There was no real reason to why I should turn down the band; other then me being blind in my left eye. How could I be in a band, when I could barely see correctly.

I might be good, but I'll only slip up, miss a few keys, make the music worse. Just as I did in my days of college. The fear of finding something, to only lose it all over again makes me feel hopeless. Giving up before I can even start.

"No. I just can't join your band...." My voice is soft, almost in a whisper.

2D's expression sadden, as the cool breeze brushed through his blue hair. We stand in silence, standing amongst the uptight folks. He looked down at me, and I looked everywhere else but him. Clearing his throat, 2D hands me a flyer. A small smile forms across his lips, as I take the flyer. Gripping it between my index finger and thumb.

"I won't push it, love. But if ye evah change yah mind. Call us. Ask fer 2D, al'right?"

With that said, the tall slinger man turn on his heels and leaves me with the flyer. I watch his figure walk down the sidewalk until he turns the corner. Looking back down at the flyer, I crumble the smooth paper between my fingers and throw it into a near by trash. Checking to make sure Blue wasn't watching me, I turn the opposite direction and make my way through the crowd just like everyone else.

I don't need the Gorillaz. I don't need his pity. And I definitely do not want anything to do with Stuart Pot.

**Luna's notes**

Hello!

Took me long enough to post the first chapter.

I apologize if it isn't that great. For some odd reason I was really struggling to write this chapter.

Hopefully you all will still enjoy. My next update shall be next week, or sooner.

What do you think will happen with Ray Lopez?! Will she crawl to the Gorillaz, or will she ignore 2D's offer?

Thank you for reading.

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