Chapter Text
Pity was a poison in two ways.
First, it clouded the judgment of others. Dex needed a cane to stand, to walk, and yet when they looked at him, it’s as if just being alive was some obstacle he constantly had to overcome. He was strong for standing, for walking, and above all, he was strong for picking up a guitar and being good. As if he couldn’t have talent or be good at anything because of the cane. Everything he did was put in context of this one object and his situation, so nothing could ever be just good.
Second, it clouded his judgment. Specifically, it clouded his judgment of Charlie. Charlie Disco was smart. Disco was charming. Disco was talented. He was so good at everything that people forgot who he started as: a kid with a broom. Still, Dex wanted to be him just as much as he hated him, and just as much as he loved him. Because who didn’t love Charlie Disco? Who didn’t… It didn’t matter what he did, what he thought or wanted to do because Charlie was better. It was somewhat obvious to see. In all the obvious ways, Dex was missing the charisma, the moves, and the flash of it all, and so people pitied him for not being Disco.
Charlie, for what it was worth, was not one of them. They were both kids, and he had every right to rub his greatness in Dex’s face, but he didn’t. Where Dex preferred to stay in the dark, using it as the fuel for his spite and obsession over the idea of perfection, Charlie was the sun itself. To Dex’s annoyance and secret delight, Charlie used that light on his dark little corner. He wanted the attention of such a talented musician while hating everything about him.
Part of him wondered if that was because some subconscious part of him believed that Charlie’s perfection would rub off on him.
Tonight, he was sitting out on the balcony of The Encore. His cane was set to the side, and his hands were instead on his guitar with his back against the railing so he was looking towards the bar. Fog had rolled in at some point in the day, and despite the height of the building, and the time of day, it was dim outside. To his side, he had a pencil and paper with some notes quickly scribbled on it, but it was doing nothing to actually help him think. Dex had spent the larger part of this afternoon playing around with a new rift, but something about it was not landing. He could hear that something was wrong, but he could not identify what part of this sounded so wrong, so there was no chance for him to fix it.
A sharp, burning feeling flashed up his leg towards his hip that made him suck up air in a sharp inhale as his brain registered it. It was like lightning, here without warning, and gone in less than a second. Instead of sitting down or at least readjusting his stance, Dex simply gritted his teeth and focused again on the rift, playing it over and over again.
“You aren’t afraid that it’ll rain soon?”
And there he was. Charlie Disco was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and hips cocked to the side as he stared at Dex. His yellow jacket was the beam of light that Dex both yearned for and wanted to push away. Soon, his surprise and momentary giddy feeling in his gut gave way to the stares he saw from people inside. Patrons knew of their band, but more than anything, they knew Charlie.
“Charlie.” His voice was low, gravelly and unamused.
“Dex.”
Charlie tried to copy his tone, but it sounded silly since they both knew this didn’t suit him. How could perfection even mimic a fraction of Dex’s envy and pain? Still, he couldn’t help but scoff. Despite how annoying he could be, Dex didn’t hate the little quips here or there.
“What do you want?”
“Just passing by.” Charlie leaned over the railing for a moment to take in the city around them before he sat down next to Dex. “I heard what you were playing. Sounds sick.”
Dex just glared at him.
“Alright, well, it’s basically there.”
Instead of responding, he reached for his cane and stood up. From the corner of his eye, he saw Charlie lean forward as if to help or something but then stopped. He knew better. Again, he was perfect, he always remembered in time.
“You forgot your notes.”
Charlie held the paper up to him. The golden child in his golden jacket was holding out Dex’s trash to him. It was laughable. He might’ve laughed had it not sparked such intense anger and disgust in his own body. Without a word, he snatched the page from Charlie and walked back inside. It was just perfect little Charlie, reminding him that as good as he was, and as talented as he was, Charlie was better. As he passed the threshold, he looked down at the page, but his notes weren’t on the page anymore. Instead of a white page with blue lines, Dex just saw red, and he crumpled it up and tossed it to the side. Maybe this would get Charlie to treat it as the trash that it was. A smaller part of him wondered if maybe by sweeping this up later, that Charlie would also think about what he was to the world before they started this band, and as wrong as that was, it made Dex feel a little better.