"𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘, 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳. 𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗮𝘄 𝗵𝗲𝗿."
𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒, the greatest rock band the generation has ever seen, the bona fide rockstars of their time.
𝐌...
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✧ 26th February 1995 ✧ London
"YOUR HAIR is pissing me off."
Callum, the younger boy, blinked dubiously between the front woman and the drummer, taking note of the way Maia had been staring at him ever since he came in to talk to Sophie about some arrangements in regards to their upcoming shows.
Maia's eyes were being clouded away by her shades, evidently in order to prevent other people from seeing her blown pupils, in spite of the fact that it was only nine in the morning. But she and the band had went out for a birthday party of one of the management crews——it was only right that the night progressed in line with substances.
"It's.. fine." Callum mumbled, apprehensively bringing his hand up to his hair, as though he was self-doubting his own answer. It had gotten a bit long, and it was getting in the way of his work most of the time, but he couldn't afford to be going to a barber. He didn't have much of the time to do so, seeing that Libertines' popularity continued to explode, even after years of being at the top of the charts. The band was being booked endlessly, and now that they were in the process of producing another album in no time, the job wasn't slowing down.
The boy turned to Sophie, frowning as he went on to play with his hair. "It's decent, is it not? Has it gotten out of hand?"
"You look like a sheep." Maia spoke up, flashing the drummer a sloppy smile when Anette handed her a cigarette and lit them up. "You know those really fluffy sheeps? That's what your hair is looking like now mate. It makes me want to sheer through it."
Callum frowned, glancing at Anette with hopeful eyes, perhaps hoping that she would tell him otherwise. That he looked fine, and that Maia was simply messing with him like she always did.
The London girl barely let out a proper response, returning him an unbothered shrug, her nostrils exhaling smoke of mist. "Baa."
"It is pretty long." Sophie agreed, nodding. "I reckon you're in need of a haircut."
Callum's skin grew pale when he heard the Norwegian girl butt in once more. "There's scissors here" Maia announced, jabbing her head towards the tool that laid unused on the long table. They were in a meeting room at a studio, patiently waiting for Carti to arrive, along as their manager and producer. "Trimming hair can't be that difficult. I think I'll do you some good."
"I'll go bald!" He shouted in a frenzied panic, throwing his stare between the three girls. "Is nobody going to tell her off! Hey! Ay, mate! She's got the bloody scissors in her hand!"
Anette snorted at him, quite eager to see how well Maia could give him a haircut when she was both hungover and high. "Stop being dramatic. She used to cut my hair back when we were in school, I looked fucking fit."
"I've seen the pictures! You're not fooling anybody!" Callum tossed back, pointing an accusing finger at her.
Maia rolled her eyes, walking over to tug him by the hand and shoving him down into the chair——holding his shoulder securely when he tried to shuffle his way up back on to his feet.
