Facta Non Verba (boyxboy)

First Signs of Sickness

CHAPTER 5:

"He's late again." Marc pointed out, tuning his bass. "Third practice in a row he's been late to."

"Who cares?" Rico groaned. "It's not like he doesn't know the set. There's no point in bitching at him to show up."

"We all need to practice." Marc insisted. "We all know the set, but we all still show up. That's what you do when you're in a band."

"Let's just start." I sighed, ignoring the look Marc was giving me. "We'll begin with song four and then go in order. I think four needs the most work."

"Fine." Marc practically growled, trying his best to let his irritation go. I felt for him. I was pissed too, even if I couldn't be as open about it as he could.

Halfway through the set Dante came in, completely at ease with a smiling twink beside him. I fucked up the words, trying to pretend I hadn't noticed them. The only one who seemed to notice was Rico, who gave me a questioning look. When we finished the song, Marc said he needed a break and brushed past Dante who still stood in the doorway of the studio. "Dante, Dante, Dante," Mitchell tsked, going to hug him, "punctuality is a virtue my friend."

"My car broke down." Dante sighed. "I had to call Scotty for a ride."

"Yeah I was in class, so i had to wait a few minutes, but then I rushed him over. I'm sorry he's so late."

"It's not your fault." I finally spoke, refusing to look at Dante. I smiled at Scott, trying to pretend my body wasn't aching. I had gone to the doctors twice already, both times coming home with a clean bill of health. I figured it was nothing to mention. The doctor thought maybe it was stress. "Want to stay to watch?"

"Oh um, I don't want to distract you guys. I know this is important-"

"Don't worry about it." I cut him off, motioning him over to me. "We practice all the time. Our set today is pretty standard. We can afford to goof off a bit."

"Are you sure?" He asked hesitantly, smile still on his face like always. I tried not to look angry. I had no reason to be mad at Scotty. Scotty was a good guy. I should like him. I had to like him.

"Absolutely." I smiled, throwing my arm over his shoulder and pulling him in front of the mic with me. "You ever sing before Scotty?"

"What? Oh, no-no, I can't." He was shaking head so fast it began to blur. "I mean, you're amazing. I'd much rather hear you sing."

"I'd like to hear you sing."

"But I really can't."

"It's easy." I brushed off his denial. "You just pretend like you're in the shower and noone can hear you except all of us who are showering with you for some reason."

"That... that doesn't really help me..." he trailed off as Marc came back in, ignoring everyone as he walked to his instrument. "I'd really much rather watch."

"We'll sing together, one song." I declared, holding up a paper full of rough lyrics. "This is a song i've been working on. Help me sing it just this once and then i'll never ever make you do this again until the next time I do."

"That-"

"Hit it!" I called, listening to Mitchell, hit his sticks together, timing out the beat until he got it down and switched the beat to the drums. Dante entered the song next, slow and gradual. Then it was Marc and Rico. "Ready?" I whispered to him, counting down from five on my fingers.

"No, not really..."

"Too late. Just sing the parts written in red." I chuckled, pulling his head and mine toward the mic. " I'm not sure if there's a god, i'm a pretty faithless man, can't say i've experienced divine intervention, but i've seen heavens gates when i hold your hand."