Chapter Text
There is no light on the stage where Caitlyn Kiramman stands, as she waits for the spotlight to fall on her and the show to begin.
Sight is the only sense she is lacking though – all her other senses are roaring and thrumming through her, with the same fevered anticipation she feels every time she prepares to sing.
The crowds are screaming loud enough for her ears to ring, their lungs bloating in their chests and expelling a sound that would be completely inappropriate in any place but here. The smell of sweat, burning lights, and something else that fills her veins with adrenaline permeates the air. And perhaps most sensitive to her, is the soft touch of three central fingers resting at the low of her back – for just a second, before returning to their guitar strings.
The lights burst on, streaming through the dark stadium and illuminating Caitlyn in their bright, hot light. And just like that, the show has begun.
“ZAUN! ARE YOU READY FOR US?” She screams into the black, shimmering microphone clutched in her hand. And the crowd erupts.
…
~ Six months earlier ~
…
“I’m leaving the band.” Mel Medarda says, standing in the middle of the Last Drop’s recording studio, looking around at the band Blisters & Bedrock, as she shoots a fucking grenade into all their dreams. “Shimmer was my last album – and tour.” She adds, like the group needed the elaboration to know what ‘leaving the band’ meant.
“What? Why?” Lux asks, sitting up from where her head was rested on Powder’s lap.
Mel looked to the blonde girl, opening her mouth to reply before being quickly cut off by the shrill voice of Vi’s other sister, Jinx. “Fuck you Mel.”
Vi frowns at her sister, but doesn’t move to scold her – after all, she does sort of agree. “Jinx – give her a second to explain before deciding whether or not she can get fucked.” The slightly more patient twin chimes, before turning back to Mel Medarda and letting her cute, blue space buns knock sideways as she waits for the Noxian woman to explain herself.
Mel sighs, the closest to an emotional reaction Blisters & Bedrock were likely to get. “I have been offered a solo album deal, and I decided a few weeks ago to take it. I’ve just been waiting for this session so I could be certain you were all going to be in attendance.” She explained, sending a pointed look towards Jinx, who tended to approach band meetings as being optional.
“Fuck you Mel.” Ekko grunted.
Jinx turned to her boyfriend then, her long blue braids sweeping wide as she fixed him with her eery pink eyes. “Thanks babe – fuck you Mel.”
Mel frowns, but doesn’t respond. Everyone is left stunned for a moment – sitting in the room they thought they’d be writing their fourth studio album.
This band was once a group of rowdy Zaunite teenagers, singing and playing their instruments badly in the basement of a pub that now shared the name of their private recording studio.
Vi at fifteen had found an old guitar in a pile of junk past the Zaun fissures. With Ekko, Powder and Jinxes help they’d fixed it up, and later scraped together enough cash to buy a bass guitar, a set of old taped together drums, and a keyboard. With just that, and a brush they pretended was a microphone, they created a band.
Their brothers, Mylo and Claggor, had played around with coloured lanterns and the speakers used by enforcers to blare sirens and warnings to the lanes. And pretty soon they started playing in the Last Drop.
Overtime they got better, and began pulling traction from performing in other venues around Zaun. Until eventually they were ‘discovered’ by a studio in Piltover and produced their debut album – Blisters & Bedrock.
They were seen as a small, indie rock band for a while – known throughout the lanes, most of Zaun and some of Piltover – but that was all they really needed. Then Mel came along, and it all changed.
Before her they’d all taken it in turns to sing lead – Vi pulling solos the most often, despite being far more comfortable as lead guitarist. But when Mel approached them at an event while they were trying to write their second album, and asked to join their band as singer, they knew they had to let her. Mel was divine. Her voice was something godly, and added a level of class to Blisters & Bedrock that the group had never possessed on their own.
That was when they got huge.
Now they were known all throughout Runeterra. They had done two continental tours, hit top ten on the charts more times than Vi could count (that’s a lie – it was eleven times), and had even won fucking awards.
Vi wasn’t about to give Mel complete credit for that – the bands music hadn’t changed, neither had their style and message. But Mel had certainly given them the kick they needed to get to where they were now.
And now she was leaving.
“I made it quite clear when I came into this band that it was temporary.” Mel reminded them. “Being a part of a band was never the end goal for me – it was just what I needed to do for my career when I came across you guys.” She shrugs.
Vi shifted uncomfortably on the leather sofa she was sat on – she wished she’d been to the gym and done some rounds in the ring before coming here. Hearing Mel talk about the band she valued with her life like it was no more than a stepping stone made her want to hit things.
“Gee thanks Medarda – we’re honoured to have been a fucking footstool up to the magnitude of your career ladder.” Jinx scoffed, flicking her braids with four clawed nails and one metal finger – courtesy of a prank with some makeshift bombs her and Mylo had put together when they were kids.
“It’s not like that and you know it Jinx.” Mel defended, still acting calmer than Vi thinks she’d ever been in her life.
“Then what is it like?” Powder spat, the irritation on her freckled face making her look closer to Jinx than ever. “Are you trying to say you didn’t use us for fame, just to throw us aside at the first opportunity you were given?”
Mel did shift then, just the slight budge of her feet against the vintage rug Powder and Lux had found on one of their many trips to thrift shops when decorating the last drop recording studio. It wasn’t a full-on reaction, but it was more than nothing. “If it helps, I was offered a deal after ‘Our Love’ and stayed for another album.” She confessed.
Vi snorted then, an accidental grunt of disbelief.
Mel had almost left after their second album – that was her first album with the band, and when they really took off in the industry. And she had the audacity to only tell them now.
Mel’s hazel eyes met hers then, clearly surprised that she hadn’t already uttered a word in this conversation. Usually, she was the first to call people out on their bullshit.
“Why did you stay?” Lux asked, their social media manager and photographer had perhaps been the closest with Mel. They were the only two non-Zaunites within Blisters & Bedrock’s key team, and they’d been later additions to the group – Mel coming in after their debut album, and Lux arriving during the production of ‘Shimmer’.
Mel shrugged. “You still needed me – and I still needed you.” She answered – matter-of-factly. “The band is high enough now – the fans love us all, not just the lead singer like often happens with bands. Blisters & Bedrock will continue to rise without me.”
She wasn’t wrong. Many of the bands Vi new that lost their front performer quickly dwindled in fame due to being centred around their singer. But Blisters & Bedrock were each given equal songs on the albums, and equal time with the press. And they all had their own mini fandom within the larger support.
Vi’s fans called themselves ‘the pink punchers’ after an incident with a reporter who got too close to her baby sisters. Most fandoms would dwindle after such scandal – but Blisters & Bedrock only grew in support, and became even more fiercely protected by their fans.
They would survive Mel leaving – so long as the music stayed good.
“Who’s going to sing now?” Claggor asked from the corner of the room, where he’d been tuning their guitars.
Mel considered for a moment, then her eyes landed on Vi. “Well I thought maybe Violet would-”
“No.” Vi cut her off, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her spread knees. “Not happening. You’re our singer – I can’t do what you do.” She could sing, but she couldn’t sing like that.
Mel tutted, that high-born Noxian tone humming out. “Fine – fine, I’m not about to poke the bear.” She brushed off, then pursed her lips together before continuing. “I did actually have an idea – and even called in a few favours to set up a meeting if you all wanted it.” She explained.
Vi’s brows furrowed together “What kind of meeting?”
“An interview – to replace me.”
Powder leant forward, the bass player perking with interest. “You’ve found a singer for us? Who is it?”
Mel winced, and her eyes were once against fixed on Vi, a look of caution steeling her pupils. “Well-”
…
~ two days earlier ~
…
“No.” Caitlyn snapped, turning her back to her best friend. “I am not joining that band.”
Jayce groaned, running round to meet her gaze again. “Please Cait – I promised Mel I’d convince you.”
“I do not care if you promised Heimerdinger or his weird little dog I am NOT putting myself in her band.” Cait snarled, wondering if she could feasibly get away with throwing Jayce out the high window of her bedroom. He’d probably land in the bushes below and be fine after a brief healing period – shame. “I have spent the past five years trying to avoid being in the same room as her, and now you want me to join her band? What is wrong with you?”
“You wanted to join a band – I found you a band – I found you a really good, very successful band.” Jayce spluttered, holding his hands up like a criminal surrendering for questioning.
He was right. Cait did want to join a band, she’d been searching for one most of the past year after leaving the Kiramman music academy and their illustrious, watchful studio.
She’d tried to make it solo for a while, but she’d become so ingrained in the pop princess genre her mother had squashed her into, that only the dregs of her old fanbase had stuck around for the more depressing, gothic rock she had always wanted to play.
It was crushing, to say the least. To finally release music, she cared about and worked hard for, and have the entire industry sneer and ask her when she was going to give up and go back to the happy, mainstream pop she’d released before.
She enjoyed pop music, she really did. And when her first album came out she’d adored the young crowds and the bright costumes, not to mention all the awards and attention she gained from it. But as she reached her mid-twenties, and had been singing the same songs for five years on repeat, she’d stopped caring so much for that style, and realised that her entire career was built on the opinions and constraint set for her by her mother, the academy, and the studio.
She’d wanted out – but now she was left without representation, and without the solid fanbase she needed to boost her own music.
Being part of a band would solve those problems for her. She could fade into the group and not feel so damn illuminated every time she stood before the press – she could be with a team. And joining an already established band would give her the traction she needed. And she could shift genres with a whole new group of people to help her through it.
But this group of people was not the one she’d had in mind.
Blisters & Bedrock were a band made up of Zaunites – entirely now that Mel was apparently leaving. Which didn’t bother Caitlyn so much – she knew not to believe any of the stereotyped crap people like her mother came up with about Piltover’s poorer twin city. But she was still Piltovian. And beyond that, she was part of the aristocracy of Piltover, and accurately fit the stereotype of nepo baby, rich girl within the industry.
Blisters & Bedrock would eat her alive.
And then there was her. Violet Vander.
They had a comprehensive history, to say the least. And it seemed every time they were in a room together something happened – a few eye rolls or stray glares, then before anyone could stop it, the pair would be at each other’s throats, throwing insults and loudly arguing without even a second to consider who could be watching.
There’d been a few incidents where the press had caught onto one of their fights, and the next day the headlines would all blare: ‘POP PRINCESS KIRAMMAN AND ROCK GUITARIST VI VANDER CAUGHT FIGHTING – WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?’ with photographs of the two girls practically nose to nose, staring daggers with their mouths stretched open mid-shout, and even a few with other members of Blisters & Bedrock, or Caitlyn’s team stood between them – holding them back from each other.
Suffice to say the pair had been banned from speaking to one another at events, and from being put together for press tours.
And after Blisters & Bedrock left the Piltover academy studio around the same time Caitlyn had last year, her and Vi had never needed to be around each other – so they hadn’t. And it was best that way. Caitlyn did not need a scandal on top of musical failure.
“You know I can’t join that band Jayce – my career would never survive it.” She reminded her best friend, who seems to have forgotten every exaggerated (and occasionally not-exaggerated) headline and volatile interaction from their time under the same studio.
“It’s been over a year, surely the two of you can put that all to rest.” Jayce argued back, taking his phone out and typing several messages as he spoke. “Look – I’ve sent you the address. They’re expecting you on Friday at 2, so if you go then great – if not then you’ve lost the chance forever. It’s up to you Cait.” He shrugged then moved to leave, grabbing his expensive jacket from her apartment coatrack, and tucking his phone into his pocket.
“I have to go. Love you sprout.” He smiled as he opened her front door. “I do hope you go – I know how much you love their music, and you’ve got the chance to be a part of it.” He said, before slamming the door and leaving her with those painful, reminding words.
“Fuck.” She muttered, to no one but herself.
She didn’t swear in front of other people – not ever, even after she’d moved away from the tyrannical rule of her mother. It was like her body had left the Kiramman household, but her brain was still programmed to behave like she was there.
She looked down at the Zaunite address popped up in a notification bubble on her phone screen, the top line stating in bold letters ‘THE LAST DROP STUDIO’ and sighed, before making her way over to the record player by her door and adjusting the needle to resume what she’d been playing before Jayce arrived.
Blisters & Bedrock’s cover of ‘Our Love’ for their second studio recorded album blared from the speakers and filled the empty space of her apartment as she went about her day, replaying the conversation over and over.