Out of Tune - Slipknot

Chapter 2 - The Nameless

~Joey pov~

When Corey asked if I was going out tonight, I didn't think it was because he wanted to start a band. And if I were to ever in my wildest dreams imagine Corey starting a band, I would never have thought that I would be the drummer. However, both of my thoughts were proven wrong when Corey started setting up my drum kit in the living room.
"Uhm.. Cor?" I speak confusedly, "why are you setting up my kit?"
He looked up at me from his awkward position folded underneath my drum kit. "So you can play for me and the guys."
"No I'm not performing for your buddies again, I'm sorry. Last time was not ideal." Corey's old friends were not very appreciative of my drumming.
Corey laughs. "No no, not MY buddies. Yours."
My face twists further in confusion. "What??"
Someone knocks on the door. "Whatever. I'll get it. You better be the one taking that apart later."
When I open the door I'm met with my favourite of Corey's group of cronies.
"Clown?!"
"Wassup kid?" He ruffles my hair and grins fondly at me. "Gonna let me in or what?"
I nod profusely and step aside, allowing him to enter the house. Like a baby duckling I follow him closely into the living room and nearly bump into him when he stops abruptly.
"Corey." He speaks to my housemate. Corey slams his head against my snare drum when he sits up too fast. I let out a cry of shock and immediately shoo him away from my precious baby, tending to the stand and fixing the drum. He doesn't see the glare I shoot at him, he's too busy doing his silly little handshake with Clown, and as more knocks came from the door he began to let people in.
"God are we having a party or what." I mutter, tuning my drums carefully. I recognize the Great Wall of Man from earlier—Mick, I think he was called. To my surprise I see my friends as well, Sid and 133. I also catch a glimpse of an old friend of Corey's that I haven't seen since they fell off. I really missed Paul. There are mostly people I don't recognize, some names I picked up like Chris and James. 133 is signing excitedly to someone I don't know.
"Joey!" I couldn't help but grin at the sound of Sid's excited footsteps approaching. "This is gonna be amazing, I'm so excited you don't understand!"
I laugh softly in response. He quickly steps back and I can see him popping his knuckles over and over and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
"I'm afraid to ask, but what IS going on? Corey didn't tell me shit." I ask.
Sid's jaw drops to the floor. "We're starting a band!"
As if on cue, Corey yells for everyone to shut up and sit down. As we all take separate seats, he asks everyone to introduce themselves with their name and what instrument they play.
First up was mick. "Mick. Play guitar." Maybe that's his signature line, like a Pokémon.
"'m James. You can call me Jim too. I also play guitar."
Boring.
"I'm Paul, and uhh. I play bass." I involuntarily grin as I look over Paul. It's been so long since I've seen him. 
Clown sighs indifferently. "I'm Shawn, just call me Clown. Play percussion."
"Chris. I play percussion as well." The guy next to Clown that I saw talking to 133 in sign earlier speaks.
"I'm Sid! I'm the DJ, I play turntables n shit." Sid sounds the most excited to be here.
I follow up quickly. "I'm uh- I'm Joey. I play the drums." I consider pointing out that Corey and I live together but decide against it, as nobody else has added any information about themselves.
133 looks stressed, I know he isn't about to introduce himself verbally. He looks around almost frantically. Clown, who is seated next to him, grabs his shoulder reassuringly. "This is 133. Kid plays keyboard and does samples and shit like that. Cool shit." Relief washes over 133's face and his body relaxes as he signs quietly, 'thank you.'
"Okay! And everyone knows me," Corey grins, clearly gritting his teeth and mumbling after, "would be nice to have my energy matched."
"Can we start now?" Clown speaks impatiently.
So we do. We play some songs that were already put together, which leads me to assume that everyone else knew about this band before I did. My personal favourite is the one Corey calls Spit It Out. I'm impressed by the range of his voice, from deep growls to loud screams and even fast rapping which surprises me. He usually talks slowly; I would've never guessed how fast he raps. Clown and the guy named Chris sit to the side. Corey told me he had something worked out for them. Something about a keg.
After we finish rehearsing, Clown runs to his car and brings back alcohol.
"Time to get wasted, bitches." He grins slyly at the glass bottles in his hands.
"You fucking prick," Chris laughs, "you only bought the intense shit? No beer?"
Clown looks over his shoulder with a shadow of insanity over his eyes, "wasted."
Our peninsula bar fills with the band members laughing and joking loudly while Clown plays a game he calls "mystery barista."
"Hit me, Clown." I humour the game.
He glances over and raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, kid? Wanna try? I'll make it extra strong for you." He chuckles and starts mixing.
"Oohhh shiiit!" Paul laughs.
My drink is handed to me. I take a whiff. "Fruity, no?" My face twists in confusion. "Do I sip it or down it?"
Clown laughs loudly and pours a drink for himself. "Just drink it kid."
I take a sip and aside from the loud conversation between Corey and Mick, everyone at the counter is watching for my reaction.
"Holy SHIT! Bro is this battery acid? What the hell?" I put on a show of dramatic coughing and hacking. Clown rolls his eyes. "Nah I'm messing around. It strong as hell but it's pretty good." I stand suddenly and shrug.
"Aw man"
"Come on I thought he was gonna throw up."
"Lame."
This time I roll my eyes before going into the living room to sit with Sid and Craig.
I tilt my head curiously. "Why are you guys in here? Everyone else out there is having so much fun."
Craig sheepishly signs, "I can't drink. Sid doesn't drink either."
Sid nods. "I don't like alcohol. I can have a good time without it."
"Suit yourself." I shrug and sit down on the couch with them. The two continue their quiet conversation once more. As usual, I don't pay attention to them, I look back at the louder group who have turned into a blur of light and noise as the alcohol has entered my system.
I'm a lightweight for sure, many people like to think I'm not, but Wednesday was the one to say I'm "officially a fucking lightweight" because I passed out on him when we were hanging out once. It's not my fault he and Tripp just kept handing me drinks.
Not only am I a lightweight, I can't hold my alcohol either. I drink a ton and get so wasted that I can't walk straight, and then I throw up. In today's case my bathroom buddy is 133. He's gotten good at guiding me to the bathroom and shoving me to the floor so I don't ruin something.
Today of course, the world turns into a massive blur of intense sensory hell. The lights are too bright, everyone is too loud, and I can't see shit. Everything is blurry and I hardly register when Clown comes over to make fun of me for how wasted I am, and to give me more drinks.
At some point i end up in my room and feel myself fall onto the bed.
"Holy shit!!" I jump awake, clutching my skull as someone tries to rip it apart like a destroyed pumpkin at Halloween. This might be my worst hangover yet.
"Shhh."
"HOLY SHIT!"
I jump out of my skin and jump back as I wake up quickly. As my eyes clear, my confusion deepens. "133?"
133 is laying on the floor next to my bed for some reason. "I was going to go home but you looked really rough so I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I wasn't that bad." I roll my eyes and lay back down. "You should've gone home. Your mom is gonna whoop your ass."
He hums. "I'll be fine. Nothing I haven't seen before." 133 pauses before adding, "besides you needed someone to hold your hair back if you needed to throw up more."
"Noooo..." I groan and thrash back and forth dramatically.
"Think Corey's clothes will fit me? I didn't exactly plan on spending the night so I don't have a change of clothes for school." He wonders aloud. "Or maybe that shirt you never gave back." 133 grumbles under his breath but I pretend not to catch it.
I direct him to Corey's room and enter the bathroom myself, expecting to have makeup on still but seeing that someone washed it off instead. I blankly wonder who while I reapply it. Once finished, I exit the bathroom and grab a couple pain killers from the drug counter and run myself a glass of water, gulping down the small pills in one go. I have a bit of experience.
133 and Corey are conversing in Corey's room and I sigh, massaging my scalp. I really need to quit drinking so much at parties. I know I don't need to but it makes me feel like I belong somewhere for once. 133 is one of my best friends and has been since the third grade, and he's held my hair back while I vomit and he's wiped my tears when I've come to him about my parents countless times, but the more I rely on him when I'm drunk, I'm afraid I'll let something slip. It was too much to have Corey dealing with my episodes when I first moved in with him; they were more frequent when it was fresh. I think I slept in his room with him on and off for months before I was okay by myself. Even then I had to remind myself that I was alone because it was better for me, and not because I was lonely.
'And then there's Corey.' I think as I see him and 133 pushing each other around and goofing off.
You can't put two equally damaged people together and expect shit to go well. He had a different kind of rough life than I did, and we function differently. As hard as it was for me to deal with being alone, he took it like a blow to the head that I needed him. For once in his life someone needed him there and he couldn't understand that. He didn't understand why I needed to sleep next to him or why being separated from my abusive household was giving me intense episodes. And for me, I couldn't understand that someone who claimed to care didn't understand how I could need him so badly. It hurt both of us to figure out how to coexist, because as much as we tried to give up —and believe me, we tried hard— I knew I could help him and he knew he wanted to help me because we cared about each other. Every little fight, every screaming argument, every time I'd slam my door in his face and cry on the other side, it all would end in a simple, "I'm sorry I didn't mean it and I hope you can forgive me." And we did. Because if you aren't willing to fight for them, then you should spare both of you the hurt and just let go.

A/N: Joey stealing everyone's prized possessions may or may not become a character trait