Tragic Magic

Tragic Magic

Fanfiction about Ronnie Radke. This may be one of the last stories I post on Quibblo. I can't stand this site anymore, it's overrun by too many idiotic little kids. (Little kids who wouldn't even care to read my stories)

So here we go~

Chapter 1

I'm in the Band

by: MrsRadke
2006

"Mmm . . ." I softly moaned as I rolled my head back, exposing my neck to Ronnie's delicious lips. I felt him smile against my skin.

"Do I get to hear the joke?" I asked, as I began tangling my fingers in his hair. The kisses stopped, just as he tilted his head up to look at me. Slightly laughing he responded, "I wasn't smiling as a joke, I was smiling at those sexy moans of yours," he bit down softly on his bottom lip. I rolled my eyes as I blushed a light shade of pink, "just stop, Ronnie . . ." I said, shaking my head.

"Stop what? Stop loving you? Because that's not gonna happen," he paused to peck my lips, "ever." I smiled softly at him in response, "I'll always love you too." The words flowed easily off of my lips, like they were made to say those words. I continued to stare into his eyes. A while later, I began to feel the aftermath of all the booze and pills I took earlier. I struggled to keep my eyes open.

"Go to sleep. It's not doing you any good to just stay up and stare at me," he said, laughing.

I sighed, "but I don't . . . I . . ." I tried to say, but he was already pulling the covers over me. He kissed my forehead, "goodnight Jules."

That was the last thing I heard before my eyes closed, and I fell asleep

2011

Name: Juliet Andrews . . . Birthday: July 4, 1988 . . . Former Occupation: College Student . . . I thought all these things to myself as I filled out yet another job application at a tattoo parlor. I'm a young, but experienced girl trying to get a job as a tattoo artist in Los Angeles, how hard could that possibly be? A lot harder then one would expect. I sighed to myself as I came across a new set of questions. These much more personal then the last.

Have you ever done drugs? Have you ever been arrested? Have you ever been charged with a criminal assault?

"Yes, yes, and yes . . ." I whispered softly to myself. I sighed once more.

I was crazy as a teenager. I liked to go out to wild parties, drink, do drugs, have random hookups, and much more. At the time, I thought-- well, that was the problem, I wasn't thinking-- and that got me into a lot of trouble. I don't remember much of anything that happened except that I used to often wake up in either a stranger's bed, or a jail cell. . . I shook my head.

Since I've gotten into college, I've changed my ways. I don't do anything anymore, except occasionally go out to the bar with my friends [but I'm legal now]. I've felt a lot better, and I've also been better off leaving everything behind. Although my past does catch up with me sometimes, and that's why I've had so much trouble trying to get a job. Hopefully this one will work out.

I hopped out of my seat and slid my application across the desk to the manager.

"Thank you. We'll call and let you know sometime soon," he said with a hard, wrinkled smile. I returned the smile and nodded as I walked out of the shop. I started down the sidewalk, then felt my phone buzz in my back pocket. I quickly whipped it out to see that I had a text from one of my best friends, Ryan Seaman.

Ryan: Hey, meet me at Starbucks in 15? I have some good news (:

Me: Sure thing :) Can I get a hint?

Ryan: Sends a picture message full of musical notes

Me: You're so weird xD

Ryan: I'll explain later :P

I stuffed my phone back into my pocket and began walking in the direction of the small coffee shop.

Starbucks

I arrived at the cafe in about ten minutes. I glanced around the entire shop, but didn't see Ryan yet. I shrugged and went to order my drink. After getting it, I turned around to go find a seat, and nearly crashed into someone.

"I'm sorry--" I began to say, then I realized who it was. "Ryan!" I exclaimed, immediately wrapping my arms around him in a tight embrace. He hugged me back just as tight, "hey, Julie." He greeted me with a large grin plastered across his face. I gave him a confused look, "why are you so happy?"

"Am I not allowed to be happy?" He retorted, laughing slightly.

"You are, but I'm just curious about the reason why."

His grin somehow stretched even further across his face, "come with me. We'll go sit and talk." He took me by my wrist and led me to a small corner in the back with two loveseats. We both sat facing each other. "So tell me! I'm afraid you might burst," I said giggling. I took a sip of my coffee.

He inclined towards me, "okay, so you've gotta keep this on the down-low for a little while, but you know how I've been drumming for a long time, right?"

I gave him a poker face, "Ryan, I'm not stupid. You've been my best friend for years. Yes, I'm aware that you drum." I rolled my eyes.

He rolled his eyes as well, at my sarcasm, I suppose, "well here's the deal. The other day, I was online and found something posted for auditions for a new band this guy Ronnie Radke was forming."

I thought momentarily to myself, "Ronnie Radke? . . . That sounds familiar . . ."

"That's not the point," he jutted in, "the point is that I auditioned to be his drummer, and I guess I did pretty well because . . . I'm in the band!"

My eyes widened slightly, "my little Ry-Ry is gonna be drumming for a band? Aw, you're growing up so fast!" I said, pretending to fan away tears.

He slightly shook his head at me, "Julie, can you be just a little more serious? I mean, this is my career we're talking about here; I actually made it into a real rock band!"

I laughed, "I'm sorry, you know I was only messing with you. But that's great! I'm so happy for you!" I slid off of my chair and walked over to his, taking a seat on the arm rest. I leaned down and gave him a hug, "I really am proud of you." I commented, smiling at him.

He smirked, "I know you are!"

I laughed. "So what type of band is this? I mean, like what kind of music are you guys gonna be playing?"

He shrugged, "I don't really know yet. I mean, I do know it's kind of a punk-rock type band, minus all the drugs and partying and stuff. But Ronnie's got the music all written out, and he said he was gonna go over it with everyone at our first rehearsal this Friday night."

"That's awesome! You're gonna have to play it for me once you get it."

"Why don't you just come Friday night? Then you won't have to hear an hour's worth of plain 'ol drums. I know you're not really into that," he said, slightly chuckling.

I glanced at him questioningly, "are you sure what's-his-face would be alright with it? I don't want to intrude . . ."

"Ronnie? Oh yeah, I'm sure he'd be cool with it. He's a pretty chill guy as far as I know."

I thought to myself again, Ronnie. Ronnie Radke. Why does that name ring a bell?

"Hey, what else do you know about Ronnie? Like where'd he come from? What'd he used to do? What--"

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down there. I just met the guy a few days ago, I don't know his life story quite yet," he said, laughing.

I shrugged, "guess you wouldn't." I sighed softly to myself. Ryan stayed quiet, probably not knowing how to respond to my sudden interest in his new band mate. I continued on, "sooo . . . Friday night then, are you picking me up?" He smiled once again. "Sure. Or you could come over to my place and we could eat and watch something before we go. I know how much you hate being at your apartment."

"Well why wouldn't I? My landlord is a complete d-ck," I shook my head, "but yeah, that sounds great. But I still think you should let Ronnie know that I'm coming. I don't want to seem unannounced." I don't really care whether or not Ronnie cares if I come. I just want Ryan to mention my name to see if Ronnie knows me. Maybe then I'd be able to clear up all my confusion about this oh-so familiar name.

"Yeah, I'll give him a call on my way home. No worries."

"Thanks Ry Ry," I said, smirking at him.

"I hate it when you call me that," he growled.

I laughed, "don't act like you don't love it . . ." I trailed off, still laughing.

11:46 P.M.

As I layed in my bed, about to fall asleep, I heard my phone buzz against the nightstand. In irritation, I rolled over on my side and grabbed it; I had a text from Ryan.

Ryan: Me- Can I have a friend come to our rehearsal? She's really into music and wants to hear us play ~ Ronnie- She hot? ~ Me- As a hot pocket ~ Ronnie- Hot pockets? . . . **** Yeah

I laughed quietly to myself as I responded to his texts

Me: Okay, thank you! :3 And I wasn't aware that I'm as hot as a hot pocket . . . I'll take that as a compliment :P

Ryan: Good. Because it's the only one you're ever gonna get from me ;P

Me: Oh shut up xD

When he stopped texting me back, I put my phone back on the night stand and tried to get comfortable again. I succeeded after a while, but I still couldn't stop thinking about that name. Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie . . . was all that ran through my head. I coldn't think straight. In fact, I couldn't think at all.

I sighed to myself, deciding to give up on it for the night. I always had tomorrow.

I rolled over onto my stomach and quickly fell into a long, dreamless sleep.

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