lovesong (sam kiszka x reader)

2

*tw-mentions of substance abuse, overdose*

we stood on the front porch of the kiszka's house. you could hear shouting coming from inside, from two boys presumably. sam winced and turned around, back to the door. "nope, let's go to your house."

"sam, it's fine. i don't care-"

i was interrupted by the door swinging open wildly. a shorter boy with long hair strewn wildly around his face. "sam. come here. he's being fucking crazy." he grabbed sam by the shirt and swung the door open for me. timidly, i poked my head around the corner of the entryway to see another boy, around the same age as the one who opened the door. he, for some reason, was standing on the dining room table. "I AM OLDER THAN YOU AND YOU KNOW IT! THERE ARE RECORDS TO SHOW THAT, ASK MOM!"

"should i... leave?" i asked sam. he shook his head and sighed.

"they do this all the time. they're twins. jake's right here, and josh is on the table. he's the shortest out of all of us so he likes to assert dominance."

"ah."

"WE'RE TWINS. MINUTES DOESN'T MATTER WHEN YOU'RE TWINS!"

"YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND THAT I'M OLDER, CAN YOU?" josh stomped on the table, making everyone jump. damn, this table was resilient.

"FIVE MINUTES DOESN'T MATTER!" jake screamed.

"YOU'LL NEVER LIVE IT DOWN!" josh screamed back, jumping off the table and lunging for his twin.

i watched sam try to sneak quietly out of the way of the two, who were now grabbing for each other's throats in the living room, and into the kitchen. i followed hesitantly. "are they always like this?" i asked.

"pretty much. like i said, not much to do in frankenmuth." he leaned over to examine a cabinet. "i can make, like, fettuccine alfredo?" he asked.

"sure. so you're a chef?"

"hardly. our mom works late some nights and dad usually has a night shift so we make our own dinner." pots clattered as he tried to take one out of the drawer, resulting in 5 falling out of the cabinet. "shit." he left them on the floor and started cooking. i sat on a barstool and leaned on the kitchen island. he took out his phone after putting the water and sauce on the stove. "any requests?" he had spotify open.

"anything. my mom used to like pop and punk, my dad likes classic rock and hair metal, so i do anything."

"right." pink floyd's "time" started playing. "if you don't mind me asking, is your mom still around? i didn't see her today."

i took a deep breath. "nope. she overdosed 6 months ago. that's kind of why i'm here. my dad couldn't stand drinking his morning coffee in the room where his wife died."

he stood shell-shocked for a moment, looking for words. "i'm, wow. i'm so sorry. really."

"it's alright. in a way, she'd been gone for a while. junkies get like that, to the point where they're never home and if they are they're locked in the bathroom or bedroom or whatever."

"that's awful. i had an uncle like that. certainly not a mother, but someone. anyways."
"yeah. good idea." i smiled weakly.

"how long have you been playing drums?"

"probably 8 or 9 years. i started wanting to when i was 7, but my dad caved in when i was 8 or so and got me a set. we almost got kicked out of the complex before we moved, i played so much."

"you've got to be the best drummer on planet earth, then?" he leaned on the island across from me.

"no, but probably one of the better ones in seattle. i used to be a fill-in all the time, even got to play with joan jett once." i blushed.

"shut the fuck up. SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he shouted, hands going in the air. josh came rushing in, thinking something was wrong.

"what?" he asked his little brother. he had a vastly different accent than his brothers and sisters, almost a new york accent.

"SHE'S PLAYED DRUMS WITH MOTHER FUCKING JOAN JETT!" sam shouted. there was no need for the shouting, but he was clearly very impressed.

"sam, chill. it was last year, she was playing a club circuit and her drummer couldn't play so the venue called me. it happened all the time, but she was the big one." i explained to josh.

"...wow. if we didn't have danny, i'd make you our drummer." josh said. jake was now leaning in the doorway of the kitchen.

"your... drummer?" i asked.

"we have a band. we're actually working on getting some of our stuff released next spring."

i smiled. "so you guys must be really good, then."

"i'd say we're average. people say we sound like led zep all the time." jake spoke up.

"that's better than average if you're regularly getting compared to one of the greatest rock bands of all time." i laughed, and so did the rest of them. "sam, the water."

sam turned around and watched as the water violently spilled over the top of the pot. "fuck!" he tended to the food while i continued talking to the others.

"well, if you ever need a photographer, i'm the one for the job. that was how i made money in seattle. a fake id and a steady hand can get you a long way." i grinned.

"can i see some of your stuff?" josh asked, walking around the island and standing behind me. jake followed.

"here," i opened a folder in my photos app and let them scroll through it together, sam joining eventually.

i turned around as the twins were talking about how great the pictures were. the look on sam's face was priceless. his mouth was agape, and he looked up to meet my eyes and just smiled. jake handed me back my phone, breaking our gaze.

"you're fucking hired. not like we can pay you or anything, but anytime we play a show or anything, you're in." jake exclaimed. josh looked down at his phone.

"jake, that movie starting in 20 minutes, we should go. you guys wanna join?" he asked, looking up at us. sam and i shook our heads.

"well, don't drink drugs or smoke beer while we're gone, don't burn the house down, don't get pregnant, whatever else mom says when she leaves. we'll be back in two hours." jake said, swinging open the door, carrying his shoes. josh waved and slammed the door behind him, making us jump.

"they're something, huh?" sam said sarcastically, draining the pasta.

"something indeed. what are they even seeing?"

"pulp fiction. they've both seen it a billion times, but josh wants to be a filmmaker someday, so jake always goes with him when they play older movies at the movie theater in town."

"he talks like a filmmaker."

"what does that even mean?" he laughed, setting a plate in front of me and placing another across from me.

"i don't know. he just has that awkward smartness to him. it's like how james gunn is a fucking nerd when he talks, but he's a genius when his movies are on the screen or he's behind the camera."

"so you know your movies then?"

"how else do you pass time when you're an only child in seattle with parents that work long shifts?"

we laughed. "what's your favorite?"

"it changes constantly. right now it's the shining or howl's moving castle."

he burst out in hysterical laughter. "those should not have been said in the same sentence. a child's movie and one of the most disturbing ever made?"

"hey, in a way, howl's moving castle is a disturbing critique of war and the upper cla-"

"whatever you say, drummer."