Rockabye Rockstars

①

"What the hell is this...?"

Oh, Jimmy was home... Better put the glue away.

His voice was shaking in pure rage as his eyes were narrowed. They flicker and dance across the room in spiteful confusion, and soon, he only has them in one direction. His bandmates. His grubby, careless, stupid bandmates.

The black haired lad pointed at the smashed guitar below him so they could get the obvious reason on why he was upset, gritting his teeth and repeating himself softly. He swallows and begins to roll up his turtleneck sleeves.

"I said,"
He hisses grimly.
"'What the hell is this?!"

Jimmy... Jimmy yelled? He actually didn't do that often...
His fellow bandmates' shoulders stiffen, causing them to look and whisper to each other awkwardly. As they discuss manners about Jimmy's particular guitar, (favorite guitar, if you will), Robert, the band's lead vocalist, pipes up.

"Well, Page,"
He chuckles with a smirk, crossing his arms and striding over to the angered guitarist.
"It isn't really that big of a deal."

Oh, what a way to calm him down, amIright?

Jimmy shoots a sharp glare to Robert, his pupils flaming with utter wrath.
"No,"
He growls,
"No, Percy, seriously, it IS that big of a deal. Do you have any fuckin' idea how long I've had and CHERISHED that fuckin' guitar?! Do you have ANY idea how much it's costed me?!"

Robert simply laughs. He leans down, face to face with Jim, still smirking. The singer pulls the other's cheek lightly, soon letting out a small snicker.

"Pagey, Page, Page..."
He huffs, smiling dorkishly.
"It's only an instrument! Besides, our last album made lots of dough. You can always buy yourself another one."

"Well that ONE was special."
Jimmy snaps.
"And let go of my fuckin' cheek!"
He pushes Robert away, crossing his arms and flaring a glare to the floor.

"I fuckin' leave for fuckin' two hours, and I expect you guys to at least be responsible, but no. Y'smash my shit like it's Christmas."
Page mumbles, running a hand through his hair in a stressed manner.

"And it's always like this too!"

"Oh, shut up."
Bonzo snaps, sneering a bit and placing his hands on his own hips.
"You fuckin' punched holes in my drum kit when you were drunk once, and I was gone too. And when I came back, you know what I did?"

"I thought you didn't want to talk about how you cried into your pillow that night, and I had to comfort you."
Jonesy says, hands in sweatshirt pockets as he peers to John, an eyebrow raised.

Bonzo shoots a small glare at Jonesy, his face becoming red.
"Nonono, not THAT."
He hisses.
"I meant was, when I came back, I forgave you! Sure, I was shocked, but I didn't stand and yell! Maybe you should give us some respect and get the hell over it!"

"IT was a present from my DAD when I was fuckin' seventeen! Your drums weren't a present!"

"Actually they were. My wife bought that pair for me without me knowing, so..."
Bonzo replied in an awfully sassy and sarcastic tone.

Jimmy roles his eyes, shoving his bandmates out of his way and dragging himself upstairs, slamming the door behind him with a bang.

Only Jonesy winced in fear, for he was the one who broke it.

"T-Thanks for sticking up for me, guys..."
The bassist mumbles, looking to the floor.

"Ah, it ain't that big of a deal."
Robert hums.
"Page is just overreacting."

"Let's hope he doesn't overreact a little too much."
Bonzo chuckles, brushing some hair out of his face.