Chapter Text
Roars of the waiting crowd outside echoed throughout the large dimly lit stadium. Behind the closed curtains where the VIPs laid present, were their equipment and valuable instruments.
“Collei, we’re on in 10!” Called a two floppy eared singer whose eyes glowed a hazel brown and the lime dipped locks shimmered in the neon light. Tighnari placed a hand on his hip, leaning more on his right foot as he looked off in the distance, awaiting another green haired girl. The commotion was loud and people hurried by with rags and boxes on carts to clean off behind the closed curtains. Ruckus of voices swarmed around the group of sweaty people preparing for their show Pushing past people, Cyno emerged from the darkness, where Tighnari assumed Collei would come from, putting his hair up in a small ponytail.
“CJ, where is she?” Cyno replied with a muffled, “Hm?” looking up with his pea black rubber band in his mouth.
“Where’s C?” Tighnari asked again with a more impatient tone in his voice. Cyno’s eyes widened and he nodded, pointing a wiggling finger at him as if he was saying, ohhh yeah . Cyno took the hair tie from his mouth and started at his hair.
“She’s still in the back, and a nervous wreck. I think she needs you there, Mr. T.” Cyno’s voice rubbed off in a teasing manner, but Tighnari played it no mind. Instead, he whisked a sigh and pushed past Cyno to leave in search of Collei in her stageroom.
“Ah damn it, where is it..?” a squeaky voice persisted in the distance. It caught Cyno’s attention, and his eyes followed along on the instruments to see the one and only Dori, otherwise known as DD or Double D. She was not only famous for her role in the band, but she was widely known as the rarest merchant to be found all across Teyvat. Which makes you wonder, why would someone like her join a band?
Cyno crouched down while he observed her messily digging through a mess she made.
“And what are you looking for, Double D?” Dori snapped her head back to Cyno and gave him a stern look as if saying, you already know exactly what I’m looking for . Yet, she responded through gritted teeth.
“I’m looking for Deema and Dous. Ah my precious valuables..” Cyno couldn’t help but smile with rolled eyes.
“Your drumsticks ?”
“They have names you know, they’re not any old or plain drumsticks, they’re my Deema and Dous.” with that Dori turned back around, continuing her search again. “Get it right.” She mumbled. Cyno put his hands up in an I surrender motion.
“Alright alright, I’ll try to remember those.. Names . Can’t guarantee or promise it though.” he said, standing back up. Deema and Dous were very keen and tan-made drumsticks. Their names had been printed in a tattoo form of lettering ink on the side.
“Good luck finding those drumsticks for the show.” Dori snapped and turned around yelling.
“It’s Deema and Dous!” Cyno couldn’t help but snicker with his back turned, fading away into the darkness of the backstage and into his stageroom. His stageroom wasn’t like anyone else's, nobody had the same style of stageroom. His walls were a pastel yellow and were covered in a nice popcorn ceiling. His mirror held small lights surrounding the chipped painting edges, and his guitar carrier was empty, holding a few of his pics for his guitar and rehearsal music sheets. Sitting down in front of his mirror next to his guitar stand, Cyno noticed that his guitar stand was empty.
“He’s not done ? This guy..” Now it was Cyno’s turn to frown.
“How long does it take to clean a guitar..?” he asked aloud to himself in a grumble, heading out next door to a door with a gold sign next to it reading Al . Loud music was coming from inside. Cyno slammed his fist against the door in a hard knock.
“Hey Al, where’s my guitar?” The sound of loud music came to a messy stop and there was silence for a while. Cyno tapped his foot impatiently, glaring at the door for some time. The door opened at last and there was Al. A tall man with gravy gray hair and a loose white t-shirt with no sleeves. His black baggy pants hugged his perfect waist and gave his legs a lot of breathing room. It almost made Cyno jealous at how good his clothes looked on him.
“You ruined my practice, what is it you want?”
“My guitar , obviously . I thought I made it clear when I was banging on your door. ” Cyno emphasized those words through strained yelling, trying not to be too loud. Al-Haitham looked down at his watch and ran a hand through his hair, looking at Cyno through his open fingers.
“Is that all you want?” Cyno tilted his head up and peered down at Al-Haitham, even though Al-Haitham was clearly taller. It seemed that Cyno tried to appear intimidating. It wasn’t working.
“ Yes .” Al-Haitham sighed and turned around on his heel, slamming his door shut. Cyno flinched back and thought that for a moment he wasn’t going to open back up, but with loud rummaging and a couple curses, the door reopened with Al-Haitham holding Cyno’s platinum brown and black electric guitar.
“Here’s your guitar, CJ. Freshly cleaned and-” Cyno snatched the guitar from his grip and gave Al-Haitham a counterfeit smile.
“ Thank you .” And without another word, the two turned away from another and headed in opposite directions.
“You’re forgetting who the lead guitarist is here, Al..” Cyno whispered to himself, touching his guitar and checking for any misplaced pieces or scratches. However, there weren’t any. They may have been a band for at least 9 years now, but that doesn’t mean Cyno had to trust Al-Haitham.
“Cy! We’re up in 5!” Tighnari called from the stage.
“Yeah, yeah, T, I’m comin’!” Cyno finished up his cleaning and resumed his place on the stage, tweaking his guitar to the right tune. Tighnari was helping Collei set up with her bass, while Dori sat up on her chair, fiddling with her two drumsticks–-er, Deema and Dous. Cyno called a quick bathroom break before the show started, and Tighnari allowed it, shooing him away as he made sure the microphone would be working during the show.
Cyno didn’t really need to use the bathroom, he just wanted to fix himself up before the show. He pulled a couple pieces of hair out of his band so that some of his hair would hang loose. Then he fixed his silver chains that were strapped to the right side of his short tan khaki pants, clinging and clanging together as he walked. He straightened his white t-shirt with no sleeves and made sure he smelled suitable enough for close up guests. The crowd of people began to cheer the countdown and that was Cyno’s que to return back.
Once he stood back in his position, he held his guitar, observing his friends who held each of what they knew best. Dori, the drumist who had unique taste and a yearn for money. Tighnari, the lead singer and the leader of the band. He was clutching the microphone and staring ahead of him at the curtains, awaiting for them to pull up. Collei, the bass and backup singer. She held her bass with such care, her left hand raised in an angelic fashion just above the strings while her right hand held it steady. Al-Haitham, who was nowhere to be seen as of late, was the bass guitarist, runner up. He did whatever he pleased and seemed shady to Cyno. The only thing that was least conspicuous was that he cleaned his guitar. Even that though, was infuriating to Cyno because it was still time consuming and even then he still didn’t do that well. Still, it got his guitar cleaned because Cyno sure as hell wasn’t gonna do it.
Last but not least, Cyno. He was the lead electric guitarist and he held that with pride. Cyno was carefree and full of energy and jokes that sucked so bad that they were funny. The worst part was that he explained them if no one understood it, so that’s why Tighnari just smiles and pretends like he does. Just like that, Al-Haitham showed.
“You cut it close, Al.” Tighnari spoke, giving him a silent glare.
“Yeah, you cut it close, Al .” Cyno smirked in a mocking tone, which received him an angry glare from the one in question.
“Shut it, Cy. I’m here aren’t I?” With that. Al-Haitham took the opposite side of Cyno, on the other side of Dori. The countdowns got down to the singular digits and Tighnari took his black baseball cap off the speakers and faced it backwards on his head. His ears slid through the open holes on the top and he smiled, putting the microphone to his lips.
“Alright, Egyptians, it’s showtime.”