Christopher's Song (Indefinite Hiatus)

Chapter 4

Ethan's head was wrapped in cotton. He thought he could hear someone calling his name, but it sounded muffled and far off. There were other sounds too, a sound like someone being slapped, and a voice saying "Wake up." But it all sounded distant, like a television in the next room. Ethan struggled with that thought. Next room? What was wrong with that idea? He fought through the cobwebs clouding his mind toward full consciousness. He opened his eyes, and wished he hadn't as a hand came toward his face. Greg slapped him! Hard!

"What the heck are you doing, man?" demanded Ethan of his friend, as he came quickly to sitting position. His cheek stung and his tone was accusatory.

Greg backed away a little, and rather than saying anything, pointed to the floor at Ethan's right. Ethan's gaze followed where the offending hand pointed, and the anger left his features as he saw Daniel's prone form. What had happened? They'd been singing that amazing air, and then what? Then the music got away from him, and the last thing he could remember was blackness closing in. Ethan scrambled toward his brother as Daniel began to stir.

Greg followed him, apologizing. "Sorry about the slap, man. But when I came in here and you guys were both on the floor, and you didn't answer, and you wouldn't wake up..." he trailed off. "What happened, anyway? Still woozy from last night?" he had the grace to look abashed, though his eyes were smiling.

Ethan took the offered out, "Yeah, I guess. We were sitting here playing, and I started feeling a little weird; and the next thing I know, you're pounding on me." There was more heat in his voice than he'd intended, but he was still a little ticked off at the "joke" his friends had played at his and his brother's expense.

Greg was, as usual, unaware of the angry undercurrents in Ethan's tone. He laughed at the teasing, and glanced down at the now aware Daniel. "You guys sure are funny when you're drunk! Last night was so funny!"

Greg Bishop looked a little bit like he sounded--fun but not overly bright. He had never quite caught up to his growth spurts, and as a result, his six foot two-inch frame was lean almost to the point of appearing emaciated. This lanky form was topped by a head of wild red hair, currently in a gigantic afro halo around Greg's head. His features appeared to suffer from the same slights as his body; they were too big for him. His "Clark Kent" glasses, as he insisted on calling them, served to concentrate one's attention on his best feature, his eyes. Greg had remarkable green eyes that would have lept out, even without the frame of the glasses and crazy hair.

Ethan helped Daniel sit up, and they both glared at Greg. Tones might be too subtle, but Greg colored under their combined gazes.

"I'm sorry, guys." And he sounded it. His emerald eyes sought the floor, "We didn't really think you'd get that bad. And the waitress said she wasn't putting all that much in." He looked back up, searching their faces for signs of forgiveness, and deciding levity was the way to gain it. "Though for the amount we paid, she must've used three bottles of the stuff!"

The twins relented. They both smiled at their bass player and longtime friend. "Well, at least you told Mom that it was you guys' fault," said Daniel. "Not that she believed you or us." He rolled his eyes.

That was enough for Greg; all was forgiven. He grinned again, and the mischievous gleam returned to his eye, "The one time we tell her the truth, and she doesn't believe us. I'm hurt!" His expression changed to one of pure melodrama as he placed his palm over his heart, and topped it off with a deep sigh.

As they were all still sitting on the floor and Greg was such an easy target, this ludicrous statement led to Ethan grabbing for his friend, putting him in a headlock while Daniel swooped in for the noogie. As Greg cried out for mercy, his captors noticed the book between them and cast questioning looks at one another.