RARE (THEROCKAFELLABOYSSERIES#1)

MASTERPIECES

T.W. This chapter contains strong profanity

Luke Holland 

My hand scribbles the words down faster than my brain. Lyrics muddling into messed up verses which make sense to me.

I'm writing from my heart. To Zoey. My past... my sister. I'm staring at the younger version of myself, remembering the feel of the smooth drum sticks on my fingertips as I tested the drum skins for the first time.

I'm caring for my younger self, giving him the dignity he deserves. Sometimes when you have trauma, you can find yourself forever stuck in that time zone, making personal growth extremely hard.

I'm a bitter guy, set on destruction, but Zoey made everything better. And I royally fucked it up.

Leo throws himself down on the couch opposite me, letting out a dramatic sigh, blowing air out of his mouth until I look over. "You all right?"

The poor lad looks destroyed and there's always one name that springs to mind when that's the case. "I can't believe she's leaving the band."

"I think at this point, she has to do what's right for her, and this band is not it. Look at all the crap she has to deal on a daily basis. It must be so draining for her," I reply, pausing to read over my last verse. 

Leo is strangely quiet, staring at me like I have two fucking heads. "You feeling all right?"

I frown right back at him. "Yeah, why?"

He rips off his beanie hat to scratch his head. "I'm not used to you sticking up for Maeva."

My shrug is half-arsed, even if she pisses me off most of the time, it's clear to see she's struggling and has been treated unfairly for most of her working life. "Life is short. Do what makes you happy." 

When he moves close, I turn away from his grinning face. "Looks like you grew up, brother."

I shoulder him off, picking up my pen to hunker down to get this chorus written. Inspiration is on fire right now. I'm not letting it go to waste and while I'm in this headspace, it makes my conscience disappear for a moment. 

Leo is unsettled, pacing the room, pulling his phone out of his pocket every five seconds to check it and that hat is giving his hair a serious case of friction burn from the amount of times he's pulling it off and on. 

"You scared about where it leaves you with her or something?" I say, resting back in the chair. 

In some kind of shock, he looks up at me, a battle of a thousand emotions flickering in his head. I can hear his breathing change to a more erratic rate and I start to worry he's having a panic attack. I jump up, striding over to him. 

My feeling for this guy run deeper than friendship; I class him as my family, so seeing him cut up about something is painful. I guide him over to the couch to force him to sit down, making his put his head between his knees to breath. 

I rub his shoulder. "I know it feels impossible, but you can breathe. You're okay. It's just your body tricking you." 

"Aye," he chokes out, struggling to breathe through the coughing. "You sure about that, fucker?"

I bark out a laugh, grateful he's not pussying out about it, because him passing out is not something I can deal with right now. We stay silent, a few minutes pass before he's back to normal and resting against the arm of the couch. 

A troubled look written across his face. 

"She wants to move back home. Ollie will go with her," he says, and I jump to life all off a sudden.