Rock My World - DabiHawks

Bastards Of Young

POV HAWKS

"I don't know about this, Hawks," Tokoyami whispers as I help him adjust the strap on his guitar. "There's a lot of people here. What if I screw something up?"

"Calm down, bro," I say, ruffling his dark hair. "If you screw something up, I'll pay you 150 in cash before we leave."

Tokoyami pouts, but he doesn't argue anymore. He knows I'll fight him to the ends of the Earth over this– because I know that he's probably one of the best guitarists I've ever come across, and I'd kill for the kid to have just a drop of confidence in himself.

As different as the two of us are, and as annoyed as Tokoyami pretends to be around me, he's become like a little brother to me in the past year and a half. Really the two of us look kind of ridiculous beside each other. Tokoyami's early 2000s emo style– the baggy black shorts, belts, bracelets, smudged eyeliner, fried hair– clashes so hard against my boring outfit: basic gray shirt and baggy faded blue jeans.

Honestly, he fits in a lot better here. I look like a total poser–

–which is frustrating because I'm definitely not. But who cares, right? Tonight is all about letting Tokoyami shine. He's been working really hard on his guitar solo for "I Wanna Be Your Dog" and I know how badly he wants other people to hear it.

So I convinced him to play at Giran's. Just the one song. I'll be singing and playing bass, and Rumi will be on drums. Speaking of Rumi–

"I'm here, I'm here," Rumi says breathlessly as she bursts through the back door. She pulls her drumsticks from her bag then tosses her bag and coat to the side, sauntering up to Tokoyami to ruffle his hair, much more aggressively than I had. "Ready to set this place on fire, kid? You're running the show tonight."

Tokoyami sinks into his dark band t-shirt, an embarrassed blush running rampant over his pale face. "Hawks is the one who's singing," he mutters, desperate to divert the attention and play it off.

"Well, yeah," Rumi laughs, "but this song is all about your killer solo! C'mon, let's get out there and set up. Keigo, test the mic while I hook him up to the amp."

I nod and head out on the stage with Tokoyami and Rumi right behind me. I've only ever been to this bar once before a few years ago, and at the time I wasn't of legal drinking age. I had just gotten my license and Present Mic called me at the last minute to be the designated driver because he and his friends were absolutely hammered. All I remembered from the place was the bartender, who was a familiar face from my old high school, a pretty badass "troubled" girl a few grades above me: Kaina.

I didn't get to talk to her tonight, which sucks, since I came through the back entrance where the performers usually enter. For a relatively rundown, shabby place, Giran sure takes his music stuff seriously. The lighting is gorgeous and the amp, microphone, speakers, and stuff seems really expensive. I guess that makes up for the shitty food and crappy lighting everywhere else.

I step up to the mic stand and check the thing out. How long has it been since I've performed at a place besides Mic's? I don't even remember. I wouldn't say I'm nervous, exactly. I've performed a million different songs at a million different bars. I've performed, um, exotically in front of ten times this amount of people, so there's no reason for me to be nervous... right?

But I feel an extra pair of eyes on me. I feel like I'm being stared at, pinned down with a gaze, more than a performer should be at a small, dingy place like this.

Kaina waves at me from behind the bar counter, and I give her an awkward smile. I don't actually know her that well. I always thought she was too cool to be a friend of mine, especially back in high school when I was a dorky little runt. Now? Well, I guess I've made a name for myself. I'm a good singer, or so I'm told, and the customers at the Bar & Grill always say I'm pretty enough to be a model, which has to be an exaggeration because...