The One With The Nerd || Larry Stylinson

Chapter 8: A Pickle 2.0

"What in the world are you on about?"

I bit my lip, trying not to say anything else stupid. "I thought we were discussing facts, or ... 'whatever else is true'." I said, avoiding their eyes as I mumbled the last bit, tilting my head side to side as I mock quoted the last thing Ashton said before I interrupted.

Except, there was nothing mocking about it. I wasn't being scornful, or contemptuous. I didn't even lift my gaze from the laces of my brown converse.

"Anyways..." Niall speaks up, after another drawn out moment of silence, where I could literally hear the blood flowing through my veins. "You said you had guitars and stuff, didn't you Marcel? Cause we should get on with it before fart-brain here's concentration runs out." He continued, gesturing to Ashton before he leant over and whispered, "you must know by now that that doesn't last too long."

Said with a smirk.

"Oi! You better watch it, leprechaun."

I showed them to a small room that I had set up with a few guitars scattered around on stands, amps, microphones and an ameteour recording station sitting in random places along the walls. I had even hauled a piano in here from across the hall where my proper recording studio was. I figured it was too risky to have them go in there, with all the fancy equipment and notebooks and lyrics lying around everywhere in there. So, I took a few of the necessities from that room into here, which was essentially set out to be a giant walk in cupboard. The space is quite cozy, especially with all the new equipment in here, but there's still just enough room for us to walk around without bumping shoulders.

The walls are painted a pale blue, and a single window has been adjusted into the back of the room, providing a strong flow of steady sunlight. Because I couldn't really fit any suitable chairs in here, except for the piano bench, I had tossed a bunch of plain blue or black bean bags on the beige carpet for good measure.

The boys and I all sat down on a bean bag each, and Niall dug around for something in his backpack.

"So, what have we got so far?" I asked, looking from one to the other, waiting for an answer. Ashton shrugged, seeming less chattery after having complained about the size of this room in comparison to the rest of the house; 'what the hell, is this where the builder or whatever just decided to give up?' to which Niall replied with; 'jealous prick.' Simple, but effective, Ashton shut right up.

Niall finished rummaging in his bag and pulled out a small notebook. He clutched it in his hand and raised it above his head waving it around, with a victorious grin etched on his face.

"Here." He said triumphantly, handing it to me. "This is what we got. I've written down the melody notes and chords and all that jazz that you came up with in here. I've done majority of the lyrics in here somewhere too." He flicked through the pages in search of the lyrics, stopping and glancing at them when he found them, "but I'm not sure what to do on these couple of lines."

I took the book from him and read over the lyrics to find what he was talking about, while he stood up to grab a guitar and play the chords that he'd written down. I found the part where he was talking about, the lead smudges and worn out lines from all the rubbing out didn't help it blend in at all. It was the last part of the chorus, I think, because he'd left spaces every other time when switching from paragraphs, but under all the choruses were large gaps, with multiple lines between them.

"Um, okay. How's the tune of it go again?" I asked, looking back at Niall over my shoulder, trying to remember how he'd sung it in class the other day.

He pauses for a minute, looking off into the distance, squinting his eyes a little as if trying to see something through the wall. "It goes like this:" he says, shifting his gaze from the wall and humming a soft tune. Oh yeah, that's right, I remember now.