failed attempts to fly

I don't know how it works, but it does, like a group of misfits meshing perfectly together.

Kenma's emotionless face, on bass.

Semi's giddy excitement for his band is on guitar.

And Hajime, a mixture of angry, confused, and hungry, on drums.

And me. I didn't have an official title. I was enjoying the company and was happy to be included.

Haji says my title is "emotional support person" because if I weren't there to keep him sane, he'd throw his drumsticks at Semi—which he does, even if I am there.

"What's wrong with all of you!? You all look constipated!" The fourth member arrives, with the unofficial title, the bringer of food, Kuroo.

"Kuro, don't say that." Kenma groans.

"What? It's true! You all need to loosen up, don't look so stiff!"

It's been a few months since their "band" was created, still nameless, just with more members. None of them seem to mind it. They all seem to enjoy rocking out together, even Kenma.

The battle competition at school is technically a charity concert. Winners get a donation to their charity of choice. Even still, they are all looking forward to it, even Hajime and his look of "constipation," as Kuroo calls it. According to the pamphlet, cover songs are preferred, which makes everyone feel at ease since that's all they've been playing.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" After band practice and my shift at the movie theater, I find myself back at the Record store—on the third floor.

"No." He grumbles, pouting ever so cutely. The tops of his hair tickle my chin, and his head rests on my chest, his favorite position, as I run my fingers through his hair.

No matter if it's my room or his, after I clean up all the smell of popcorn, a simple nod of approval, and he tackles me like he was trying to sack the quarterback all the way to the bed.

"Don't be grumpy." I giggle. Because I knew it was something he wanted to do, just needing a few words of encouragement. "Suga, Hinata, and Kageyama said they'll be in the front row! Daichi is bringing his new girlfriend to the concert, so you have to have a name!"

"...and what about you?" A whispered tone asked. If I were normal I would be there, probably camped out the night before.

But that's easier said than done, especially for someone like me. Haji knew it too. That's why he's cautious when asking me.

I want to. I want to so fucking badly. But sometimes that's easier said than done. Yet another reason why I don't deserve him. Because why would he stay with someone who can't even support their—

"—I don't want to pressure you, though. Come if you want." Lips find my own, doing what he does best and shutting up my internal rambling. Melting my anxieties and overthinking, focusing on how he tastes, like minty toothpaste and so much more.

"However..." now hovering over me, he pauses as emerald eyes look at me with a mischievous gaze. "Maybe I could try to convince you to consider it. How's that sound?"

"And how would you—oh-" my voice is cut off by his lips again, this time much needier, rougher, hot, as his tongue licks the roof of my mouth, shuddering my entire body.

"So, will you at least consider it?" He hums, muffled by his teeth sinking on my jugular, nipping harshly, exactly where he knows to make me twitch.

"Hmm, I don't know..." I play this dangerous game, knowing it's futile, especially with that hungered look of his.