"Fuuuuuuuckkk..." I slumped against the wall and slid down to the ground. "Why doesn't anyone wanna be in our band?"

I mean, logically it made sense; three strange girls walking up to you and begging you to join their band... Not exactly the safest offer.

But still. I let Quinn dress me in what she deemed "not emo"--which basically meant my regular attire was replaced with a green tee and some black holeless jeans (who the fuck wears jeans without holes???)--and Marsh did my make up. I looked a lot less intimidating apparently. I didn't realize I was intimidating, but maybe it was the height? I was damn near six foot, but so was Marsh, and she was popular as all hell.

Maybe it was my personality.

They claimed my pink hair helped with appearances, but I was still bitter about that. I lost a bet and ended up looking like a fucking flower. Marsh loved it. She stood behind me, telling the stylist what to do and how to do it and then suddenly my hair didn't even brush my shoulders, and I had not approved that decision.

Regardless of how much my new look annoyed me, flowers should be able to recruit people into their band. And if flower girl couldn't recruit anyone, Marsh should've been able to. Quinn made her wear a form fitting tank and--

Damn. Girl got abs.

I almost threw a fit when I saw that she was allowed to wear all black, but she looked way too good for me to argue.

Quinn of course felt the need to make us all match, and since that day's theme was green and black, she was in a black crop top with an army jacket and some leggings. It annoyed me how good we looked all matchy matchy. It felt like such a teenage girl thing to do.

Of course, with our team bonding day in full gear, Quinn took a shit ton of pictures and spammed our band's Instagram to the point where I almost unfollowed myself. I guess maybe the little fans we had liked it?

Marsh sat down on the sidewalk next to me and nudged me with her elbow affectionately. "It's because Quinn is such a creeper," she said, completely serious.

I snorted. She probably wasn't wrong. Quinn was surprisingly invested in finding someone new, and as the days of perusing coffee shops and stalking the performers went on, she became more and more psychotic.

I turned to look at Marsh. I didn't know how she managed to look so cool sitting on a dirty sidewalk. If any of us were intimidating, it was her. "We're cool, right?" I asked. I huffed at Marsh's look of confusion. "I mean, look at us, we fucking match, my hair's dyed, you're all confidence and suave or whatever, and Quinn's the style queen. We're like a super cool teenage girl band." I cringed at that comparison. "God, nevermind, I answered my own question."

Marsh smiled, whispering "suave or whatever" under her breath and moving to rest her head on my shoulder. "Yeah. We're cool, Jinx, don't worry."

I knocked my head against hers and we sat like that for a while, the cool concrete behind my back giving me goosebumps. "Do you think she'll let me wear a flannel tomorrow," I asked, earning me a scoff.

"Quinn's too proud to let you be grunge."

"But grunge is cool," I whined.

"You're your sister's worst nightmare when it comes to stage outfits, you know that?" Marsh shifted closer as a cold breeze blew our hair into our faces, and I moved to put an arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, I'm well aware. But it's not like I invented punk, it's a whole thing. I'm fashionable to the people who care enough to not care." I grinned. We were basically a punk band anyway. My lyrics weren't exactly fitting for a bubbly pop song, and I didn't see why my clothing should be either.

"It's not fashionable," Marsh argued quietly. I didn't have to look to know she was dropping; it had been a long day. "It's hot as fuck, but it's not really fashion."

I blinked, opening my mouth to speak, but finding no words. "How," I started, "can it be hot but not fashionable..? That... It just doesn't make sense?"

She sighed, and I knew before she spoke that it would be in an annoyed, teachery tone. "You're hot as fuck. Your clothes are trash--like seriously do you own anything that isn't acid washed or holey?--but you're still hot. like ice." She broke into a grin and flung her arms out in front of her. "Ice ice baby."

"You're such a nerd," I said before I could take offense at her words.

My clothes weren't trash, I just never really grew out of my high school emo phase. Neither had she honestly, but her emo phase didn't include shaving half her head or dying her hair black. Granted, her hair was naturally black, so really she lived in perpetual emo-ness.

"You love me," she retorted quietly.

"You're fine I guess."

Her hand found her way to my stomach and she buried her face in my neck, murmering something about me smelling good. I took that as my cue to get us headed home. Sleepy Marsh was a leech.

"Hey, Martian," I called, detaching myself. "This isn't the best place to take a nap."

She groaned, sitting up. "Is Quinn done stalking that blonde girl yet?"

I frowned. "Probably not. Is it wrong to leave without her?"

"She knows where you sleep," was the response, and I groaned. Sometimes there were downsides to sharing an apartment with my band mates. Hell, when we were a four person band, I had shared a room with Quinn. There was literally no way to escape her, even with her sleeping all the way down the hall.

"So I guess we wait." I slumped back against the wall. "I hope she gets one. Quinn threatened to make me wear white tomorrow."

"Oh the horror," Marsh mocked.

"I've seen your closet, you twat. It's just as dark as mine."

"Sure, but mines better." She wrapped her arms back around me, and I didn't bother to stop her.

I hummed. It wasn't like I could disagree.

"It's getting dark," I whispered after a moment, but Marsh was already asleep. I had no idea how she managed to do that, but I sure as hell wasn't able to casually fall asleep on the side of the street.

That was kind of her thing though, always sleeping. Sometimes I wondered if it was some kind of disease.

I sighed, shifting into a more comfortable position.

Quinn better hurry the fuck up, my butt hurts.