Unable to escape the thought of Billy filling in on drums for Corroded Coffin. (Gareth broke his foot in probably the funniest yo-yo accident any of them has ever seen, but he does get benched from his set for a while which is less funny)
Billy hadn't been planning on it, he'd just happened to be getting the mail when a certain curly haired brunette rushed up to him, all big eyes and frenetic hand gestures. He explained that they needed a drummer for a session or four, and Billy looked like the kind of dude who knew how to play. (He does but hes never been called out on it before.)
He was about to refuse when Munson sweetened the deal by throwing in lunch and a smoke out. Billy could bang on some drums for a while for that.
Its weird meeting the rest of the group. Billy is pretty damn sure he's shoved at least one of them into a locker before. Not that he's not done his fair share of changing, but people tend to hold grudges. Though, he supposed Steve hadn't really been much better and he'd been at Munson's place every other night.
Eddy introduced him while he was lost in his head, although there was really no need. They knew who he was, everyone did.
Billy raised a hand in greeting, though he didn't smile.
He made his way to the drumset and the nerd legion parted for him like he was acidic or something. Not unexpected but still irritating. It made him feel bigger and sharper than he knew his was, the edges of his body undefined and jagged.
Eddie, evidently didn't share his friend's trepidation. He trapezed right on over to Billy to offer him the smoke he'd promised. He got much closer than he really needed to, like it never occurred to him to keep his distance.
Billy found himself liking it, despite the awkward newness of it, so he didn't correct him.
Fifteen minutes later they started actually practicing, once they were all baked enough to lose themselves in the music.
They weren't bad, he had to say. Jeff wasn't as ridiculously skilled as Eddie was, but he kept the rhythm just fine, playing around a little when he got a chance. The bassist, Billy could never remember what the fuck the kid's name was, was decent, if a little basic. And Eddie... he was actually way too good for a garage band.
Billy found himself struck by how smoothly Eddie's fingers ran up and down the fretboard, like he’d been made just to create music. His voice was lower than Billy would have expected, growlier too. It wasn't an unpleasant surprise, but it was distracting. If they'd been playing anything with more than a rocksteady beat, he'd have embarrassed himself.
If he wasn’t seeing things, Eddie had seemed a little distracted too.
One way to test his theory.
In the pause between songs, he shucked his shirt. He was sweating through it anyway, but it also gave him a chance to watch Eddie's reaction.
Munson was as subtle as ever.
He looked like he'd just seen a bomb go off, eyes wide and pupils blown, plump lower lip bit between his teeth while he tried to pretend like he wasn't staring. He was doing a terrible job, but honestly it was kind of cute. Billy didn't run into earnestness like that a lot, especially when it came to himself.
To his surprise, Munson made it a whole 'nother song before he decided to call the parctice due to a "sore throat". Billy almost smirked at that, but he kept it under wraps.
He made like he was going to head home, with absolutely zero intention to do that. He did smirk this time, when Eddie caught a hold of his forearm.
He muttered a "Can I talk to you real quick?" and it was all Billy could do to keep the smug grin from off his face.
Eddie's bandmates cleared out without much fuss, though Garreth did give Bill a look as he went.
They made it about five seconds into their talk before "talk" became "kiss" and about fifteen minutes before "kiss" became "aggressive make-out session".
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What's it even like at Ramona's place. Also is her cat cute and fluffy?
Well, it's not the most spacious place, for starters. Julie has us all beat on that I think, with Neil and Stephen's place coming second. Then maybe my place? I'm not really sure... DEFINITELY not Scott's.
But it's alright. Ramona knows what to do with the space she has, I think. And she just tucks whatever doesn't need out into her little bag that she's got, so there's never really any clutter, unless Scott's provided it. She's got, like, multiple stories to it? Like, one and a basement, or something- in addition to the ground floor, I mean. We've discussed playing down in her basement, sometimes, for practice? She seemed pretty receptive.
It's nice being over there. I dunno. She hasn't done a whole lot with it, but it's nicer hanging out there than it is here, usually. Wish she was less busy so I could come over more... I mean, I could visit Scott when he's there I guess, but it's not really the same. Besides, I wouldn't want Ramona to come back from work and have to chase me off to get some rest or something?
*Kim sort of snickers a little.* Or she'd come back to me trying to hide Scott's body. She doesn't deserve to deal with that.
Anway, more realistically, she's probably exhausted after running around all day, being the only Amazon delivery person in our area and all. Even if she was fine with me lingering, I'm not sure I want front row seats for the two of them being lovey-dovey or whatever. Gross.
And Gideon... Gideon is probably one of the cutest cats I've ever seen. I didn't really like cats too much before now, but I think I've been converted or something. He's just the sweetest thing, sometimes, and Ramona's managed to get him nearly completely desensitized to being picked up, held, moved around- he just genuinely doesn't care, so long as you aren't hurting him.
He's a short haired cat, I think, but he's super soft- Ramona tells me it's because we're always petting him. Something about the oils in our hands making his fur softer? I think I get the general idea there. His fur is like... deceptively dense though? You can sink your fingers in a little and muss it up if you want.
Heh. I don't recommend trying to mess with his stomach at all, though. Gideon's generally pretty forgiving, and doesn't really bite or scratch people from what I've seen at least, but one time Scott tried to give him belly rubs while he was all splayed out on the couch... the attack afterward was pretty tame so far as the initial strike went, but he got Scott good, and there was like... blood, everywhere. You'd think he nicked an artery or something, but no, it was just Scott doing what Scott does.
Is there some sort of like... thin-skinned or heavy bleeder debuff he's got or something? Or was it just him being a moron and splattering it everywhere? Anyway, Ramona had it handled pretty quickly, and tiredly, so that's probably something really typical for them.
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in my mind sho is a rlly good drummer
like he took an interest in playing during elementary school, when they brought the instruments around to entice people to do band, and his mom was more than happy to get him a snare and a practice pad so he could start learning. (his father…slightly less enthusiastic, mainly bc sho refused to play on the practice pad and would beat the snare all hours of the day). and it ended up being a perfect fit for him, as he quickly advanced well beyond his peers and was playing a full kit in the jazz band by the time he was 11.
then, when the claw stuff started getting more serious, the drumming dwindled out. sho was rarely home—moving from base to base, traveling the world with his father, training in open fields to hone his skills—and his poor little snare collected dust in the corner of his room. when he Was home, he certainly didn’t have the energy to play it. but that never quelled the rhythm within him, and he often found himself playing out little beats on his knees when he was bored. it was only when he started to push away from his father did he realize how much he missed it
after the world domination arc, sho returns home. positively exhausted and reeling from the emotional trauma he had went through, he collapses on his bed and tries his best to force himself to sleep. but the memories come to him in flashes—his father throwing him across the room, hitting him with blast after blast, ritsu’s older brother showing up to defend him, the fight in the air, the explosion. he finds himself staring at the ceiling wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he feels his fingers itch with a beat as tears well up in his throat.
he turns his head to the side and catches sight of his snare tucked away in the corner, white face reflecting the moonlight from his window.
he takes it to the basement and plays the entire night.
from there, he takes to it again like a fish to water. in a moment of impulsivity, he orders a full kit for himself. (he only finds out after the fact that his mom had the same thought of getting him one, and they laugh over it as they embrace). he spends every day after school playing on his kit. he learns new techniques from youtube and recreates anime osts on the drums and feels the kid in him thrive.
ritsu says he should join a band.
“you’re good,” he says between licks of his ice cream. “like. really good.” the summer sun beats down on both of their faces, but when ritsu turns to smile at sho he feels a different kind of warmth blossom onto his face. “i think it’d be good for you.”
“maybe,” sho smiles, knocking his hip into ritsu’s, eliciting a laugh from both of them. the muffled taps of his fingers against his leg reverberate in his ears, reminding him of the life he’s gotten so lucky to live. “we’ll see what happens…”
the rest of the walk to spirits and such is filled with laughter, conversation, and the rhythmic beating of their hearts.
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