i'm searching for a dead-end song ``regan

[elijude]

It was one of those cold mornings where even the thought of leaving his dorm caused him to cringe. But it had to be done, especially since he’d booked one of the practice rooms for an hour or so, and he really felt the need to practice today. So, with a groan he rolled out of the less-than-comfortable bed and stumbled down the hallway to the shower. It was cold, so he turned the water up as hot as he could manage and waited for the water to stop running icy cold and finally fill the stall up with steam. Stepping in gingerly he let the water rush over his body, still too tired to go through the motions of washing his hair and his body. After a few minutes of doing nothing he finally mustered up the strength and motivation to get on with the shower.

It took a while for him to get completely ready to go down to the practice room, since he needed to blow-dry and straighten his hair so it wasn’t a wavy and curly mess. Once he was done he threw on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt, layering a bright yellow hoodie over that before pulling on half-gloves and picking up his guitar case, and making the cold brisk walk through campus to the main building where all the practice rooms were. The building was pretty deserted, since it was fairly early on a Saturday morning and the rest of the kids would still be sleeping off the alcohol. Eli had only smoked about three or four bowls last night, and that stuff doesn’t give you a hangover, just wicked cottonmouth. He’d taken care of that for the most part by chugging most of his vitamin water on the way to the room.

As he finally reached his floor and found room 201B, he looked inside, the door was close and the lights were off, just like every other practice room he’d walked by. Opening the door and flicking on the light switch he soon got himself settled. Throwing open the guitar case and pulling the acoustic guitar out of its velvet lining, he took a seat on one of the stools in the room, getting to tuning the guitar as he set up his music notebook, scribbles of lyrics and notes on each page in a messy order.

Sighing as he ran a hand through his hair, he picked the most recent song he’d started to write to play today. His fingers took a moment to find the right placements for the chords, but he soon found himself falling in to the natural rhythm he so often enjoyed of strumming and changing chords with ease as he read the notes on his page, giving the music a run-through before he actually started to sing along with it…

[ashleymichelle]

Regan had woken up ungracefully on the floor. Well, she had probably woken because she had fallen to the ground, a not so graceful way to wake up but also her bodies way of telling her she was to be up and about now, probably because she had booked a practise room and had to be there soon. A groan escaped her lips, her body hurt from the short but hard fall onto the ground. She slowly stretched out her long limbs, testing them gently to see if they were strong enough to stand on. She had had a late night last night and for once had gotten entirely drunk. It was something she regretted as she couldn't remember what had happened or how she had gotten home. Her head was throbbing, but bearably as it was nothing compared to pain she had felt on other occasions, pain her father had given her on so many dates.

She was up, on her feet in moments and now she was lost at what to do. Her head felt like it was filled with cobwebs, and Regan had to take out a proverbial featherduster to dust them away. Once they were gone it was time to get ready. She slipped over to her closet rifling through it for something to wear that fit her mood, hence she was looking for comfort rather then style, not that style was ever very important to her. She grabbed the first two things she saw, a pair of old slightly ratty jeans and a simple cotton white long sleeved t-shirt. Of course from her dresser she grabbed the necessary unmentionables.

After a long and extremely warm shower, Regan was set and ready to go. And she was glad to be getting out of the room. It was nice to be able to go somewhere and simply sing, even though she did that alot on her own time. It made her feel like she was a real professional singer when she sang in one of the practice rooms, rather then someone who sang as a hobby. Of course Regan used to only do it as a hobby, and that she was here, at an art school, studying music was crazy to her. She had come so far from a traler park type girl in Oklahoma. Maybe she would actually make it somewhere? That would be the ultimate "up your's dad." He would be so pissed off, just like when he found out about her pink streak. And just like when he found her tattoo. Both of those had resulted in an unusally severe beating, and it simply made Regan want to die her whole entire head pink. She didn't of course because that wouldn't be a good look for her.

Regan carefully slipped on her tattered jacket, and the pair of mittens she liked to call her hobo gloves. They were the kind that covered your palm and most of your hand, but didn't cover the tip of your fingers. She kind of liked that about them, though her fingers were often cold when she went places. But finally she left the building and was on her way. It was a bit of a walk, and the air was cold. By the time she reached N Block, her cheeks were rosy and her fingers were stiff. She shivered once as she tried to wrap her fingers round the door handle. As they were stiff, she had a little bit of trouble with that. But then she was inside, and she was warm.

From there she found herself walking toward the room she had booked. Since it was early, she expected the place to be empty. Most students were probably too hungover to leave their room until the afternoon. The cold had rid Regan of her own hangover, a fact that made her smile.

But still, because she believed the place to be empty, she began to sing. And not just sing quietly. She sang loudly, so that her voice echoed through the halls before coming back to her. It wasn't bad. Regan had a nice voice, a good voice even. Everyone said so, and she didn't think that everyone would lie to her. But as it was her voice had some rough edges, she hadn't been trained after all. In a way though, the roughness suited her...

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[elijude]

It seemed the moment that Eli had finished playing the song, going back to take it from the top complete with singing, another voice began carrying through the empty floor. His fingers stopped moving on the strings of the guitar as he listened. Resting his arms on the body of his guitar as his eyes searched for a focal point while listening to the voice, almost trying to place it, they eventually landed on the ground. Taking a few more moments to listen to the voice, a small smile crossing his lips as he groped blindly for the vitamin water he’d brought along with him. As his hand wrapped around the plastic bottle his eyes snapped in to focus, sipping on the clear, slightly green liquid before replacing the cap and tossing it back to the empty chair.

Removing the guitar from his lap, standing up and propping it careful on the wall he decided he’d seek out the source of the new voice on the floor. He found it odd that someone would be awake at the same time he was, as well as booking a practice room at the same time. Normally he booked the training rooms when no one else did, not because he liked being alone, just because they were the only times open whenever he went to sign up. Eli would prefer the later times, but his procrastinating nature tended to get the best of him whenever he had to sign up for something or get things done…

Peering out of the door like a little kid would, one hand wrapping around the door frame as he looked left and right with mischievous brown eyes to make sure the coast was clear. Giving the empty room the O.K. he stepped out of the room nonchalantly as the great search for the source of the other voice began. It seemed to echo throughout the empty floor, making it harder for him to decide which direction to go to find it. Laughing quietly to himself he uttered a loud “Marco!” as if they were playing that childhood game Marco Polo.

He continued walking through the hallway, finally picking one direction to try and find the voice. It seemed he’d picked the right direction since the voice seemed to grow louder. It was definitely a pretty one, since he found himself enjoying whatever song she was singing. “Marcoo…” he called again, slightly louder this time as he continued walking, yet to discover the other occupied practice room.

[ashleymichelle]

A slight yellow bruise outlined her eye. She had to thank Father Dearest for that one. It was from a previous visit home, and she was almost reluctant to go home for anymore visits. But she knew she would, everytime her grandparents offered her it. She needed to see her younger siblings and she would not simply abandon them to their horrible, awful father. Even as she thought about her wretched father and his drinking habits, she continued to sing. Her song changed though, transforming into a sad song that was also country. It was Concrete Angel by Martina McBride and having only heard the song once before, she had no idea why it was emerging from her mouth. Or even why she had the lyrics down so well. But she listened to herself, pausing in the hall to listen, really listen to the lyrics. Realizing how much it resonated with her situation, she immediately switched songs to something more upbeat.

Her voice still echoed down the hall as she looked for her practice room. Regan brushed her brown bangs off of her forehead, skin brushing skin for a moment as she attempted to lock the free hanging hair behind her ear. She was unsuccessful though and her bangs fell back in front of her eyes. Glancing over she saw a room that was unoccupied. Her gaze lifted to the numbers above the door and a smile came to her lips, cutting her voice off for a minute. But soon she was singing again and her hand was on the door knob. She was about to turn the handle when another voice echoed through the hall. Regan jumped again, and with only a slight hitch her voice continued singing.

The voice had called out "Marco." Like this was some sort of game. She laughed in the middle of her song, letting it hitch again as she continued to listen. The voice came again, closer this time and calling Marco again. Even though she should be too old for these type of games, having the two little siblings she had made her more youthful then most her age. She continued to sing, this time throwing the word: "Polo!" into the music and then just singing.

Regan turned the knob the rest of the way and flipped the light. It became bright instantly, and she winced. Perhaps she should just sing in the dark. A new laugh came to her lips at the thought of how Mary-Rae would scold her for sitting in the dark. Mary would accuse her of being a vampire or something and knowing her family, Faith and Finn would believe Mary-Rae and Regan wuold have to spend a lot of time convincing them that she was only their older sister. Carter would simply laugh. She missed them alot.

A single tear rolled down her cheeks, as she flipped off the lights and the darkness consumed.

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