Mellow ~ A Simon Rix FanFiction

Classic Nick

Simon's POV :3

Enjoy!

I walk in late, a first for me, I'm usually the quickest to show up to rehearsals.

The boys (minus Peanut, who is late, obviously) are all pissing around on Nick's drum kit, Rick is trying to ride it like a horse. If you didn't know them you'd think they were a group of drunks. This is mild behaviour.

"Afternoon." Nick says pointedly, referencing to my lateness. See, if it wasn't actually the afternoon I would be able to see the point behind that remark, but considering that it is in fact past lunchtime, the comment was pointless. Like a lot of what comes out of his mouth.

I brush off the remark, "Nice out today."

"I wouldn't know, I've been here all morning." Nick murmurs. He's always been a workaholic, I don't think I've ever seen him not doing something band related.

I sit down next to Whitey who is busy tuning up his acoustic. Rick hands me a mug of lukewarm tea.

"I thought we could go from-" Nick begins, sat down ready at the drums.

Rick holds out a hand to stop him, "Sorry mate, just wanted to run something past you all."

Whitey raises an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that! It's not anything bad!" Rick moans.

"We never said it was." I point out.

Rick pouts before continuing, "We've been invited to play a gig!"

Not what I was expecting. I lean in a little closer.

"At the school I used to work for."

We all groan.

"It's the leavers ball. It'll be fun!" Rick tries to persuade us.

"No." Whitey shakes his head. "No way am I playing at a school."

Rick curses under his breath before throwing his shoe at Whitey, who dives to protect his guitar, and, in turn, gets hit in the head.

"It'll do us good! A quick practise before Moscow!" Whitey aims the shoe for Rick's head.

"How much?" I ask the real question.

"One hundred quid."

"Fuck off." Whitey chucks the shoe at Rick's head.

Rick rubs his forehead and sighs, but his frown quickly turns into a slightly nauseating smile. "There'll be women there. Single women."

"Urm, middle aged teachers? No thanks." Nick scoffs, twirling one of his sticks between his thumb and index finger.

Rick folds his arms. "You'd be surprised."

Nick places down the stick. "What age are we talking."

Rick scratches his chin. "I know of a couple who are under thirty-"

"It wouldn't hurt, would it?" Nick queries. Classic Nick.

Rick turns to Whitey and I. "Lads?"

I shrug, not wanting to get involved. I try to avoid confrontation at all costs.

Whitey only grunts. "You owe me a drink Wilson." And then he gets back to tuning his guitar.

:-:-:-:

The gig

"Come on Si, we're going on in ten minutes!" Rick moans from the school entrance. Tonight is important to him, he wants to prove that quitting his job was worth it. It's also vital to him that he is a good role model to the kids.

"I'll see you in there." I call back, attempting to pull the seriously long case out of the van.

Rick curses before leaving me in the carpark.

I lug my bass over my shoulder and cautiously walk through the car park. This bass cost me an arm and a leg, if it even gets scuffed I'll go mental.

I reach the entrance and see a mob of pupils surrounding a trophy cabinet, recalling their best school memories, saying their goodbyes. I get this sudden sense of nostalgia rush through my blood, reminding me of my own school days.

I push through the crowds, trying not to decapitate anyone with my bass, and make my way to what I think is the main hall.

"Simon!" Nick hisses from the doorway. He's buzzing.

I nod in his direction and follow him up onto the stage.

We're opening with 'Sink that ship', one of Rick's favourites since we scrapped anything and everything associated with Parva (except for ourselves obviously).

The noise is insane. No one is bothered about us, only bothered about one another and the contraband they smuggled in using jacket pockets.

Rick gets ready by the mic, waiting for the noise to die down.

If it ever does.

I can see Nick tapping his foot on the floor impatiently, eager to get going.

"One, two, one, two, three, four-"