PUNK'd

Chapter Seven: Calm Down Dearest

          "So why exactly did you chase after me?" I asked as Duncan and I stepped outside of the flat building, and out into the shady part of town it was located in. Duncan removed his arm from around my shoulder, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out. He lit one, and placed it in his mouth. 

          "To calm you down, like I said," he answered after taking a puff of the cigarette. "You're the best bassist we've come across, even better than the bassist we started off with... I don't want to lose you because Elliott is a bit of an arsehole."

          "Is that why your other bassist left? Because Elliott is a dick?" I asked, the anger in me being revived at the mention of Elliott's name. 

          "Um, well... our former bassist had his own issues," Duncan said, glancing nervously out the corner of his eye. 

          "For real though, Duncan," I stopped walking, and turned to face the tall, lanky drummer. "What is Elliott's deal? Ever since I've met him he's been nothing but unpleasant."

          "That's kind of what I came out here to talk to you about," Duncan admitted. "Elliott's really not a bad guy, he just has these walls built up."

          I scoffed and continued walking, Duncan trailing close behind. 

          "I'm serious!" Duncan said, throwing his cigarette onto the ground, and stomping it out. "There's a reason why the bloke has such a stick up his arse!" 

          "Listen," Duncan instructed as he stepped in front of me and stopped me in my tracks. "Let me tell you how The Bastards of Young got started. Maybe you'll understand why Elliott is the way he is." 

          I stared at Duncan with my arms crossed for a moment before rolling my eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was hear Elliott's supposed "sob story", but I couldn't help but be curious at the bands origin. 

          "Fine," I replied. "Let's hear it." Duncan smiled and we continued walking.

          "Elliott and I met in secondary school," Duncan began. "We went to a private school here in London. I was lucky to even be able to attend school there. It had always just been me and my mum growing up, and we didn't have much money, but she was able to get me in because she had a friend who worked at the school who twisted some arms for me."

          "Elliott had the complete opposite upbringing from me. He came from a rich, prestigious family who seemed perfect in every way. Needless to say, when I first came across Elliott, I thought he was a real tosser."

          "So Elliott is a rich boy, huh? And I'm supposed to feel bad for him why?" I interrupted. 

          "Shush! I'm getting there!" Duncan commanded, placing a hand over my mouth, jokingly.

          "I didn't think highly of Elliott, and he certainly didn't think much of me either. We would make the occasional snide comment to one another, but otherwise, we had little to no interaction with each other. That was until he got a bad mark one day."

          "That day I found him out in the school courtyard by himself. He was all tensed up, his teeth were grinding... the bloke was practically having a mental breakdown over one bad mark. I went to go have a jab at him, and he attacked me."

          "We had it out for a bit, rolling around in the grass, punching each other, before he finally gave up and picked himself up off the ground. I asked him what the hell was wrong with him, and he started venting to me."

          "His parents had no love for him. They were too concerned with their work and lifestyle to pay much attention to him... at least not in positive, healthy ways parents should. Even so, they would hover over him when it came to school and extra-curriculum. After all, Elliott was a reflection of his parents. If he was anything less than perfect and proper, his parents would get verbally and mentally abusive towards him. Elliott was so constantly stressed out that he would even sometimes cut himself. The bad mark only added to that stress."

          "That's when I asked him if he'd ever listened to punk rock. Of course, he hadn't. In fact, the only music he had ever known was music he'd sung as a choir boy. I told him that in punk music, you can scream out your feelings, and how freeing it was to do so. And that's when he did it. There in the middle of the school courtyard he just started belting out all the feelings he had to keep inside for so long. Mind you, it sounded like shite," Duncan paused and let out a quiet chuckle, "but I saw he had the heart of a punk then."

          "After that we became unlikely mates. I showed him all the music I could, and he just ate it up. Once he knew how the songs went, he'd sing along, and it was amazing. The music was changing his life, and I could see him becoming more happy and relaxed. Finally one day I asked him if he wanted to start a band with me. And he agreed."

          "The band was a secret from Elliott's parents, but listening to punk music had changed Elliott's personality so much that he couldn't keep the secret for long. Elliott's parents demanded that he stop listening to such music, and quit the band," Duncan stopped mid-sentence and smiled, "but Elliott told them no."

          Duncan stopped walking and I realized for the first time that we had walked around the entire flat building, and were now back at the front entrance. 

          Duncan turned to look at me. "Since then, Elliott's been disowned by his parents. They told him he'd never amount to anything, and that he'd die on the streets a loser with no name for himself. That's why he's always practicing. That's why he's so determined for the band to become a success. Because he's got to prove his parents wrong." 

          I glanced down at my feet and sighed. I had no idea Elliott had had it so rough. I couldn't imagine growing up without parents that loved me. Elliott couldn't help being an uptight perfectionist; he had been forced to be one for so many years. 

          "Ugh... dammit..." I mumbled. 

          "What?" Duncan asked, a slight worried look on his face.

          "I gotta go apologize now."

          Duncan laughed, and we headed back up to the flat. 

          When we got back to our humble little home, we opened the door and found Elliott sitting on the couch, nervously tapping his foot and running his hands through his hair. He glanced over at Duncan and I walking in, and quickly stood up onto his feet. 

          "You're back," Elliott said as we entered the living room. 

          Duncan said nothing, and walked off to his bedroom. I was confused at first, before realizing he left us alone to apologize to each other. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and began to open my mouth to speak. 

          "I'm sorry."

          My mouth hung open in shock. The words "I'm sorry" had not come from my mouth. They had come from Elliott's. 

          "W-what...?" I asked.

          Elliott looked away, his slightly irritated face was red. "Are you deaf? I said I'm sorry." He cleared his throat, and turned back to face me; his face was more relaxed, but still red. 

          "Sorry, I didn't mean to ask if you were deaf. I said I'm sorry. I can see why practicing first thing in the morning might be annoying. The band might actually benefit from practices later in the day, and breaks every now and then..."

          "Well, I'm sorry for being an American and coming in trying to change everything," I replied.

          Elliott smiled, and let out a small chuckle. 

          "Sometimes change is good." 

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(A/N: What did you think of Elliott's backstory? Does it explain why Elliott acts the way he does?

Please continue reading to find out what happens next.

All votes are appreciated, but comments help make this story better! All criticisms, comments, questions, ideas, and advice are welcome in the comment section below! I will be replying to all comments made!

Thank you for reading!)