Adolescent Foolishness (A Fearless Vampire Killers Fanfiction)

Chapter One

Here we go again. Another goddamn day of lying on the same goddamn black leather sofa, with another goddamn hangover, my eyes bloody stinging and my head pounding as a result of another goddamn migraine, and another load of overdue regrets and second thoughts about a blowout-piss up the night before. The light streaming in through the front room's windows, creeping past the closed white curtains, is bright, indicating an unusually sunny day in London. I groan, the light hurting my eyes. Why is it always on days like this that I get hangovers, on the days that it's too bright to go outside? Dammit! 

I glance around the shadowed front room, seeing the three other unconscious figures on the wooden floor. Flopped across the armchair carelessly is a black-haired, round-faced figure: Laurence, the one man who's meant to be the more mature and careful of our group (well, as far as the fans and our parents are all concerned, he is), now passed out after drinking too much. Smart thinking, dude. 

Then there's the red-and-blond-fringed, thin-faced, lanky figure sprawled out in a star-shape in the middle of the floor in nothing but his boxers: Kier, with an empty glass bottle of vodka lying not too far from his left hand. Always the more reckless drinker, always the one to insist we buy vodka, when he's the only bloody one that drinks the stuff half the time. It seems that with age comes stupidity, rather than wits - or with Kier, anyway. 

And then there's the long-brown-haired, bearded figure in the computer chair in the corner: Luke, with his head lolling back, looking like he's dead and not just sleeping. I would probably believe he's dead, if it weren't for that bloody cacophonous snoring - and the fans wonder why we started calling him a lion? He sounds like one more than he looks like one! 

I push into a proper sitting position, groaning as my head pounds. I glance around the room again, feeling like we're missing someone. One Killer, two Killers, three Killers, four... No, not four... Shit, where's Shane? There's Kier, Luke, Laurence...but no Shane... Don't tell me we misplaced him again? 

I push to my feet groggily, pulling a hand through my sandy-brown hair as I drag my feet along the cluttered floor and out into the small hall, before making an abrupt left-turn and opening the bedroom door. As I poke my head into the one and only bedroom in our tiny flat, I see a sandy-haired figure lying on the bed, curled up under the quilt, his notebook dropped on the floor along with a pencil as he sleeps soundly. I smile; at least the poor guy isn't missing, eh? And he's got more sense than us, disappearing into the bedroom before he passes out... I pad across the room wordlessly, bending down and picking up his notebook - I don't want to leave it lying and then let Laurence deface it with a graphically detailed drawing of a penis again, just like he did in Seattle a few weeks back... 

As I pick up the notebook, the first thing I see is the quick sketch of a man, clear from the short hair and the thicker outline of the jaw - either that or it's a really manly girl. Either way...this person is pretty damn fugly, sheesh. I note the large, dark-outlined eyes and the sweep of shaded hair, and smile slightly; Shane's always been good at over-exaggerating people in drawings. Maybe that's why everyone in his drawings always looks so fuckin' surreal... 

"Oi, Drew, gimme that back..." I hear a sleepy, croaky, monotonous mumble, and look down to see my Timid sitting up in bed, fisting sleepy-dust out of his eyes as he yawns. "That's mine." He holds out a hand for the notebook. 

"I was just looking, is all." I sigh. 

"And I'm just saying stop looking." He replies pointedly, smiling. I hand him the book back with a slight grin, shrugging. 

"Fair enough. Still, that drawing's blardy ugly." I flop down on top of him, grinning, and he groans, flopping onto his back as I sprawl out across his stomach, propping myself up on my elbows to get a better look at his pale, sleep-deprived little face. 

"Good thing it's you I was drawing then, huh." 

"You what?! Why would you...how could you... What would the fangirls say to that, you-" 

"They would agree that you're not the best-looking guy in the world." 

"But-" 

"It's true." He smirks, shoving me off his stomach. "Now, if you don't mind, it's still early, and I want to sleep. So..."

"Fine." I sigh, flopping onto the bed beside him and wriggling under the covers. "Cuddles?" 

"Okay." He smiles, wriggling in closer. I feel his arm go around my waist, his other arm slipping around my shoulders, and I slip my arms around his neck, sneaking in closer for a hug. We're always like this, like two little kids, but there's nothing in it. It's completely platonic - and by god I'm thankful for that, the last thing I need is more drama. Being in an up-and-coming band supplies enough drama for any 24-year-old man to handle, thank you very much. Come to think of it though, I rather like the drama that comes from being in a band, and I like the drama that's caused in our cramped, overcrowded flat every day without fail. I guess I'm a little twisted like that. 

"Drew," I hear Shane mumble, quietly and sleepily, "can I ask you a serious question?" 

"Uh-huh." I nod slightly. 

"Are you ever going to get a girlfriend?" 

Weird question, especially coming from Shane. We don't usually tend to talk about stuff like that, even if we are as close as two best friends can possibly get. Even closer than brothers, I guess you could say. But, hey-ho, I guess. "I had one. Remember? Things didn't go so well." 

"Oh, yeah... Do you think you'll ever get another one?" He asks. I cock an eyebrow, but shrug slightly. 

"I'd like to think I will." 

"Oh. Okay." It's almost as though he's disappointed with my answer, what with the way his voice goes awfully quiet and almost inaudible. I don't comment - I'm probably reading too much into things, he's just tired is all. 

"But who knows? I might just be a lone bachelor for the rest of my bass-playing, woollen days..." I hear him chuckle slightly, but he sounds slightly nervous. I guess I've spent too much time with this guy, I can read his every move like a book. Still, Shane is better than me at reading people's emotions and all, so I've probably got this all wrong. Wouldn't surprise me; this wouldn't be the first time it's happened. I mean, I used to think that one day Keveridge would no longer just be a petty fan-ship...I used to think they were a real, proper thing, and were just keeping it to themselves. Ahah...how wrong I was...

"Well, goodnight." He mumbles, wriggling ever-closer to me and sighing. I close my eyes, mumbling a vague reply. I feel his cool breath on my face as he drifts off to sleep, and can hear his deep intakes of breath. I bow my head and curl up into a ball, resting my head against his chest, and he rolls wordlessly onto his back to allow me to wriggle forward onto his chest; we both decide to just stay like this, not saying another word to each other. I don't even bother to comment on how quick his heart seems to be beating in his chest - he seems to have a pretty quick pulse anyway, so I can't really find anything abnormal about that. His arms tighten around me as I settle down to go to sleep, a slight smile on my face; I'm glad our relationship is entirely platonic, because who knows what would happen, and how awkward it would be, if something were to actually happen. Besides, the very thought of that is unmentionable and absurd, he's my best mate! And I am entirely straight. One hundred percent. 

At that, I slip into a dreamless sleep.

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[Author's Message]

This is my first Timids fic. Well, excluding a one-shot I did a while back to prove a point...but you needn't know about that. I have about ten other chapters ready for editing and uploading, so if the feedback is awesome and positive enough on this chapter then I'll upload, and rather regularly at that,, but only if you larvely lot think it is. So, thoughts?

Bevers, owwt! 0(@.@)0 ;; x