Saints of the Soundcheck

CURRENTLY ON HOLD DUE TO NOT HAVING ENOUGH TIME TO WORK ON IT.
The flat beside the pub isn't much-3rooms stitched together with chipped mugs, thrifted rugs, and the echo of too-loud laughter. The floorboards groan, the walls hum with old songs and new dreams, and the kettle works only if you smack it just right. In the hush of morning smoke and half-drunk tea, something real is being built.

Sirius moves through the world like a spark-genderfluid, magnetic, and burning at both ends. Some days, they wear heavy rings and a leather jacket other days they're soft and ethereal, with a cigarette between their lips. Neuro-spicy and feeling everything, Sirius exists at the intersection of pain, love, and fear, with only the stage to dull it.

Remus is the quiet hum beneath it all. Up before the sun, joints aching from arthritis, a cigarette in one hand and a notebook in the other. He writes in silence, lyrics like bruises pressed onto paper. Walking with a stick, he moves with strength that never asks to be seen. He and Sirius orbit, never quite touching what they're afraid to name.

James is loud, loyal, and impossible to ignore, but Lily steadies him-through her camera lens, she captures him and the band as they are and what they might become. Regulus, soft-spoken but sharp-eyed, brings a quiet truth. With James and Lily, something delicate forms, something strange and real.

Peter, sweet and solid, rounds it out. His laugh is full-bodied, his drumming sure and strong. Plus-size and proud, he brings joy wherever he goes, always checking on everyone. Mary sees him like no one else, and there's something tender growing between them.

Dorcas and Marlene, once fans, are now part of it. Dorcas, steady like a storm, Marlene wild like stars. They help, they stay late, and something is forming growth, belonging, and maybe something tender they haven't yet spoken aloud.