The (my minds) Backstories of Alex, Luke, and Reggie

Luke, Part 2

January 11, 1994. 1 year, 6 months, and 11 days before the 'hotdogs'

"So it starts with A for a few measures. And then I think I'll make it go to D and then A again" Reggie nodded. Bobby glared at me, most likely wondering why he wasn't allowed to write music. Alex's smile melted into a serious face as he looked between me and Bobby. "Um, let's not be mad at each other, okay? Okay." Alex nervously fidgeting with his drum sticks as he talked. His eyebrows were scrunched up with worry of us two guitars fighting.

"It's okay, Alex. They won't get mad." Reggie said "Hopefully"

"Well," I started awkwardly "This has been good practice. Lets be done now."

Reggie and Bobby packed up their instruments and Alex put his sticks on his drums. I set my guitar on the chair in the studio. The grand piano sat sadly in the middle, having nobody playing it for a while. I felt the same sorrow. Today was the 3 month anniversary of me running from home. Alex seemed to sense when people were sad, so he came over and sat down beside me. "It's today, isn't it?" I nodded, and suddenly, tears started running down my face, and then I was sobbing, all while Alex was patting my back, telling me everything would be okay. I was so lucky to have a friend like him. I felt Reggie watching me too, but he was too awkward to comfort me. He had good intentions. When I finally stopped crying, Reggie came over to the piano and sat down with me. I rammed the top of my head lightly into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me in a hug. Alex joined. I wondered lightly where Bobby was. "Where's Bobby?" I said, my voice muffled. Reggie tensed. "He went home already." I groaned, my shoulders shaking with aftershocks of sobs. Bobby was always the... I wouldn't say he was nice, but not mean. He wasn't sensitive. In short, he only cared about himself and his guitar. I looked up around the studio. My guitar hung on the wall, with a brown coffee table in front of the couch. There was a bed set beside the couch, because it pulled out into a bed. If you didn't get the hint, the bed set was mine, because I was living in the studio of a close friend at school. Her name was Annabelle. No, I was not dating her. She knew what happened about my mom. So, at school, a few days after I ran away, she invited me to stay, until I could get somewhere else. Now, I only saw her here. I never saw her at school. I planned to play as a band, not go to college. But I should let Alex get a turn.