𝙀𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙚 || 𝕞.𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕠𝕟

011

I ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ' ʀᴏᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ɴɪɢʜᴛ -ᴍᴊ

ᗰIᑕᕼᗩᗴᒪ

ꨄ

❥➪ 1982

[ short yet relevant chapter ]

𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮...

𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗪𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗗 𝗔𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗, the slim'd out long enough to snake over it, pressing down tightly. Further deepening his grin as did his fingers, falling into the right places as it circled around the notes.

The guitar he had stuck around his shoulder, the strap grazing Michael's neck as incoherent notes drummed out of his instrument. Frets being dumped, pressuring the tabs with no fear as it danced along the neck. Joan Jett: a poster that laid neatly on the wall, little creases as shown from struggle to put up the damn thing. It was the biggest poster he currently owned.

Only a few chords were played and finger plucks as he got into the chorus and a huge solo, basting it as the room pumped - vibrated even, his beauty of his fast fingers played a huge part as her rapidly strummed.

To add context, Michael was in his own world, usually most mornings around four-five am, headphones gripped his poor ears with strings rampaging. This was due to having busy days after school that never having time for his guitar was out of the question, the mornings seemed to be brighter once he played.

The faint cohesion noise of the melody - '𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗' Eddie Money. It's ring out made his finger tense and stretch longer, playing each minor - major in the song, lifting his head back and dropping it as soon as the guitar drifted. His mouth even whispering the words, face scrunched with each high note that makes its way into his ears.

Breathing heavily, the boy removed its strap from his shoulder, leaning it against himself: cracking his body slightly due to being quite stiff and made a movement to return his guitar back to its stand, out of the way before changing out of the - oh so beautiful PJs Sam picked for him that last night, deciding it'll be funny for him to wear the smallest size he owned (though she never realised - laughed after she found out.)

Michael couldn't help but shake his head at the prior antics of the girl, of their conversation. Said conversation was lasted quite long, due to Chris taking up most of his bed - he ended up moving back into his room early that morning from seeing Michael curled along his window, nudging to wake him which was lead to Mike into bed.

Back onto his thoughts, invading into music and such, Sam was.. refreshing in a way. Her noticeable voice with shared humour tickled Michael. Planning to talk to her today was a goal: not a big one but definitely something he wanted to do.

Grasping the black jeans whom hugged his knees, fitting lightly with a baggy texture. Swaying his hands all through his hair to puff out volume, ditching the use of a hair brush that morning, having one of those good hair days.

Gripping tightly onto a deep blue - black even - shirt , it's ebony colour apparent, snaking the belt around his jeans. The ends of his mullet curling outwards as the boy played with it, messing around with all the bits and pieces causing all that time to whisk away.