R E M E M B E R W H E N | oneshots

punch

it was your first time opening for your boyfriend, adam's new band, beastie boys. they were punk rock, you were not. despite having the same drummer, kate, your two bands sounded nothing alike. you two both loved making music, but could never agree on sound. so, the day of the show, you arrived at adam's house almost two hours earlier than he told you to show up, despite him only living down the block. stumbling into his foyer without even knocking, you're greeted by his mom, who meets you with a concerned look on her face.
"oh! y/n, is everything alright? are you ok?", she asked, genuinely worried.
"uh, yeah, just really nervous for tonight is all!" and with that , you ran up the stairs to adam's room.
you got to his room, the sound of the bad brains blaring through his stereo. he was sitting on his bed, writing.
"y/n, you're early! is everything okay, baby?" he immediately stood up.
"adam, i'm convinced that your crowd is gonna hate me. we sound nothing like you guys!" you took his hand and led him back to sit on his bed. laying down, you sat your head in his lap to look up him. he began to trace your freckles with his long, slender fingers.
"i will literally beat the shit out of anyone who says anything about you, and you know it." he looked down at you a planted a kiss on your nose.

——

the crowd was bigger than most of your shows were, but it wasn't huge; maybe 100 people, most of them being friends or people you knew through adam. there was one group of boys, however, that neither you or kate, the drummer, recognised.
"yeah, i've never seen those guys around before. i hope they don't cause trouble....", kate said, unsure of the unfamiliar faces.
as you took your place onstage, you felt all eyes on you as the crowd cheered. your first few songs went well, until you suddenly heard a voice call out "show your tits!". you froze, and the band stopped playing. it was those boys. they began to yell offensive taunts until, from the side of the stage you see adam pushing his way through the crowd. oh no. over the awkward murmurs you hear more yelling, a mixture between adam's familiar voice and the voices of those boys. as everyone turns around to watch you hear the sound you didn't want to hear, but ultimately knew was coming: the sound of a fist meeting a face. wincing, you yelled into the microphone "adam! knock it off!" and the boys quickly made their way out of the club, blood dripping from the leader's nose.
"alright, uh, everyone. now that that's over, i guess we can continue," you said, while letting out a nervous giggle.
playing the rest of the set was easy, but you just wanted it to be over. after you wrapped up performing, you placed the microphone back on the stage and quickly ran off to find adam before he went on. you found him sitting, tuning his bass, blood everywhere.
"adam, what the fuck? your hand is dripping blood! are you alright?", you asked him genuinely worried and scared.
"i'm okay baby; i'm gonna play this set, too."
"with your hand like that? you're insane!"
"of course. it's way more punk rock."
and he did play the set. he played it hard. the thing about punk is that you don't have to sound good, it just has to be loud. adam somehow did both. that night, he performed the best you had ever seen him, despite his hand dripping with blood the whole time.
they finished and left the stage. you ran over to kiss adam, like you did after every show, but this time, as you kissed him, he whispered "i told you i'd beat the shit out of anyone who messed with you."
"you're right, and it was very sexy and noble, but can i please take you to the hospital?"