A/N: So welcome to the first installment of HoBL (Where Elvis Lives)

Hopefully you will enjoy reading as much as Robicorn and I have enjoyed writing (read: you better effin love this)

Thank you to our bootyful beta DandieGoose and the whole harem of smexy ladies who pre-read!

Laugh with us, laugh at us, just read it and review it!

Disclaimer: Unless Stephenie Meyers has a clone who looks like MzB or Robicorn, WE ARE NOT HER!

I sit backstage under the hot lights of the makeup table making sure not a hair on my head is out of place. I have to follow the ritual like always; it's what gives me luck. I run the comb through my hair, slicking it back, letting a single piece fall down and curl against my forehead. I rub my hands over my smooth as silk face stopping only to run my index finger along my sideburns. I can't stand for them to look messy. Okay, now I'm ready. I'm particularly proud of the height I managed to achieve tonight when slicking my hair back. Tonight might just be the night.

I slip on my embroidered gray suit jacket over my black shirt. I pop the collar of the shirt before running my hands through my hair one last time for good measure. Not one piece out of place. Perfection.

So far, I have made a good life for myself performing. I absolutely love to be on stage, love to hear the crowd scream for me. The music just unlocked something deep down inside of me. Something big was about to happen, I can feel it in my bones. This link had been there since I was a baby. My mother tells me I danced before I could even crawl.

On stage, I would gyrate my hips and the girls would swoon and make performing that much better. They'd reach for me at the bottom of the stage. I'd give them the best crooked smile and lip curl I could muster before swaying my hips and moving on. The screams would erupt, and moans would fall from hundreds of lips. I would do my best to please them all. To make sure they all got the experience they searched ME out to find.

I would thank them all for the applause at the end of each song. During those moments, I was on top of the world. There was nothing I could possibly want for; except maybe someone to share this all with.

The minute I walked off the stage, I was alone. If only I didn't have to leave the stage. I would trade hearing praise from hundreds of lips, to hear my name fall from just one girl's lips that loved me. And that I loved in return.

Of course, I had my parents; mainly my mom. Call me a Mama's boy. It don't bother me none. I also have a few close friends in the band. Other than that, I am on my own.

I go home to silence. No one to greet me at the door with a kiss hello. No one to ask how my day went. No one to call me and ask me to bring home milk or bread. No one to share the excitement of filling all of those seats. No one to climb in bed with each night. Only me. Well, me and my music.

I let out a sigh, just another night in my life.

I need to brighten up; I go on stage in a few minutes. The one place I am not alone. Far from it, actually. I am surrounded. A different group every night. At least the music is enjoyed. It makes me feel valued. But, it's all so fleeting. I really just want someone to be constant like the moon.

Maybe once I solidify myself, I can focus on finding that person. I can't think of that just yet. I am too busy rehearsing with the guys and doing shows to make ends meet. I don't have much time to devote to another person, or heck, to even find her.

All the shows and rehearsing is worth it. I'm working towards my dream, even though sometimes I feel like I'm standing still. I just have to endure the low before I can soar high. It's what I am doing this all for; getting myself out there and allowing the music coursing through my veins to find an outlet.

Although, I'm pretty sure my music teacher wouldn't have agreed to the music filling my veins. I failed music. She never appreciated the type of music I performed. What the hell does some stuck up teacher know about music anyway? Regardless of that, I have a band. I have a full audience of different people every night, waiting to see me, hear me, and watch me dance. I have a few steady gigs and it pays my bills.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by a knock on my door. Who would be knocking? I don't really have a lot of people that feel the need to give me that courtesy. "Come in," I yell, not bothering to get up.

"Hey, we go on soon. You ready?" Emmett asks. He is the drummer in my band, even though he could very well be out on his own, and happens to be one of my best friends. "What's wrong?" he asks taking one look at the misery written all over my face.

I keep my eyes on the mirror. I can see Emmett sprawled on the ratty excuse for a couch, staring back at me.

I force a smile. "Nothing, be out soon."

"Think you have a hair out of place, E."

I move my head from side to side checking for this awry hair. I didn't see anything. When I look back at Emmett his eyes are bugging and his mouth is drawn into a tight line.

"Laugh it up," I yell to him before he closes the door behind him.

I debate changing my outfit. I really do like leather, but it gets too hot. Then again, the crowd loves it when I take it off, but I'll stick with the suit. I tend to get reamed when I am late going on stage. I've even been threatened with replacement in the lineup. What? I can't help it if I want to look my best. You never know who'll be watching.

I wish I could get over this feeling of lonesomeness though. Singing helps. I use music to get out all my pent up emotions. It just has that type of power over me. It lets me express whatever it is I am feeling easily. Music- playing, listening, writing- calms me. When I sing, it's like the chicken soup I need for my soul.

I can hear the melody of the song, so I join in with the harmony "Hear that lonesome winter bird. He sounds too blue to fly. The midnight train is winding low." I spin in my seat, because I don't even want to see the pain on my own face right now. "I'm so lonesome I could cry," I sing softly as I rise to my feet.

I take a few slow steps.

"Did you ever see a robin weep? When leaves begin to die. That means he's lost the will to live. I'm so lonesome I could cry," I sing with meaning. This song comes straight from my soul.

I spin around in my suede shoes. I check my jacket in the mirror, and barely move my hips in time with the slow melancholy song.

"The silence of a falling star. Lights up a purple sky. As I wonder where you are. I'm so lonesome I could cry. I'm so lonesome I could cry." I finish, taking my seat again, assuring myself that letting my emotion out hasn't changed my outward appearance.

I definitely could cry. I won't. I just need to accept that for now this is my life. Like I said, I can feel some change coming soon. And the first thing changing- I'm not going to be a cry-baby anymore.

No more feeling sorry for myself. I'll save the pity party for my mama. That's right, I still cry to my ma.

The bass player of the band, Jasper, pushes the door open, "E, it's time. Hurry up. Don't want to piss off Aro," he tells me.

Nope, wouldn't want to piss off the boss. He doesn't care about the pity party I've thrown myself. He doesn't care if I suddenly die of cancer tomorrow. He is only interested in bringing in the business, filling his seats, and making money. He doesn't need ME to do that, and he never quits reminding me of that. Being late on stage is a big no-no.

There was a new opening act tonight. A chick. I didn't bother meeting her, yet. Aro hired her with the threat that she could take my place easily. I don't know about all of that. What I do know is if I want to perform again, I better have my ass to the stage on time.

I can hear her, belting out her last song. She is good. No, that's a lie; she is amazing. I just hate to admit it. That means she could replace me in a heartbeat. Her voice is raw full of emotion. As I am starting to walk out of the room, her voice sends shivers down my spine. Hearing her hold that last sultry note does crazy things to me.

I even got a semi-hard cock because of it. Her voice has me that distracted. I am slightly amused, and praying that the voice didn't belong to some broad named Bertha who could eat me for dinner. That was the only thought keeping my dick from becoming fully engorged.

I hear Riley announce me, and I wasn't at the stage entrance yet. I pick up my pace causing my suede shoes to click against the tiled floor backstage.

"Fuck!" I muttered.

I don't notice the yellow warning signs set up on floor, but my shoes didn't have much grip. The floor is freshly mopped with a slight shine against the normally dull tiles. Before I know it, I am sliding along the floor. I try using my arms to regain my balance. I must look a sore sight with my arms flailing wildly. It is useless and my feet coqme out from beneath me.

I hit the ground with a sickening thud, my head banging against the cold hard floor.

Blackness engulfs me.

A/N: Thanks for reading.

Check out our blog: http : / www (dot) hunkoburninlove (dot) blogspot (dot) com

for teasers, photos and some background info!

I'd love to ramble on as i'm known to do, but i'm pretty sure you'd all just get bored...duck...monkey...liger... and stop paying attention.

RECS: (Heck yes we're gonna rec our own shiz! I AM SHAMELESS)

Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers ~ Robicorn

Danza Mania ~ MzB

Try it, You'll Like it ~ DandieGoose

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