You find yourself smiling from behind your drums, keeping the beat steady without having to put much effort into it. Playing the drums have always been something you've had a talent for, ever since you were little; it comes as naturally to you as breathing. Getting used to playing with others, following other beats than just your own was more difficult, but you got used to it and now it feels more strange to play alone. You could do this for the rest of your life. A life that your family hates you for choosing, but you don't care anymore. You don't need them anymore. They're not your family now.
You look out over the room, across the stage and down at the audience. It's a good night; the small club is packed with people. You know that it's at least partly because your band is playing. By now you have a pretty good reputation; playing live at clubs all across the city, performing at concerts here and there, you even have a single out that you put out yourself, with your own money and on your own record label. None of you think you'll ever hit it big, but you don't care. You don't really want that either, none of you do. You like your lives, you're perfectly happy with being a small indie band that everyone around here knows.
You smile faintly as you watch the girls dance and flirt with and fawn over both Aaron and Vintersorg. They're the popular ones, much more than you are, but you don't really mind it. Being in the background suits you a lot more, anyway. Besides, you have your fans too - you never cease to be amazed at just how many girls seem to like your looks, your music, the fact that you're quiet and hardly ever speak to any of them. You try to be polite with the girls and guys that come up to you after your sets are done, talking to you and asking you questions and admiring you. Admiring you. It's an amazing feeling, one you love, and in those instances you'll open up, just a little, smiling at the one you're talking to, and somehow that seems to make them like you even better.
As the song goes over into another one fluently and easily, you change the rhythm, close your eyes, lean your head back. You don't really need to keep your eyes open to know what to play, not anymore. By now you know both Aaron and Vintersorg's ways of playing so well that it's like a second heartbeat to you. The two of them are so different from you, from each other, from the fourth member of the band that's not there anymore, but you all get along surprisingly well. Most of the time, at least. Sometimes Aaron and Vintersorg will argue, and usually they won't stop until you step between them, stopping them right before they resort to a fist fight. You know they love each other as if they were brothers, but they do fight like they're brothers as well and it drives you crazy at times.
But you never complain. A part of you is still slightly afraid of being pushed away, even if you know you belong just as much as they do. You know that Aaron would defend you and stick up for you no matter what, and Vintersorg... At times he's a mystery; cold and distant and acting like he doesn't care about you at all. But other times, you'll catch him looking at you with such love in his eyes that it almost makes you cry, and you know that you'll be with him forever. It's just one of those things. You'd never be able to exist apart from each other.
Vintersorg turns around in the short pause between two songs, where Aaron talks to the crowd, getting excited cheers in return. You smile, first at Aaron because you know he hates this kind of thing (but secretly he feeds off it as well), and then at Vintersorg, your smile widening. Vintersorg is never as beautiful to you as when he's on stage. He looks confident and wild and like he's capable of anything imaginable - and you know that he is exactly like that. You know that at least half of the girls, and some of the boys, standing on the floor wish that they had what you have. Wish that they were his. That they belonged to him like you belong to him.
Not all that long ago, you were afraid. Afraid that you'd lose him, that he'd be bored with you, that he would throw you away like a toy that simply wasn't interesting anymore. You don't think like that anymore, though. You're not really sure what changed, or if anything really did change. Maybe it's just you, that you've gained the kind of confidence you never had before you met Vintersorg. The kind of confidence he always wanted you to have. He used to tell you that you were an idiot, that everyone else had been idiots so far for making you feel like you were worthless. You merely smiled at him then, slightly embarrassed, and switched the subject because you weren't comfortable talking about those kinds of things with him.
But now, things are different. Vintersorg is still looking at you instead of at the crowd, and you grin at him and blow him a kiss. He looks surprised for a split second - usually it's him giving the public displays of affection - but then he laughs and stops playing, rounding the stage and walking behind the drums to give you a proper kiss. Aaron looks back to the two of you and rolls his eyes, but keeps going as if it's perfectly normal for his band mates to make out on stage. The crowd goes silent for a split second before they starts cheering and applauding - you're not really sure if they think it's just fan service or if they realize that you're actually a couple, but you don't really care.
You raise your arm and curl it around Vintersorg's neck, holding him there, kissing him back so eagerly that when you finally let go, he looks at you with a surprised smile. "So naughty," he says with a smile before walking back to his place in front of the drums, beside Aaron. Aaron looks over at him and then at you, looking a tad bit frustrated, but he makes a joke of it to the audience and then you continue playing, as if nothing ever happened. And you notice that the girls in front of Vintersorg have somehow multiplied now; it makes you laugh because girls are so predictable. You already know they'll be fawning over him even more than usual after the show, and half an hour later, the girls prove you right.
It's already past midnight when you're done playing, but you stay in the club for a few more hours, chatting and drinking and dancing. You mostly stay at the bar, sipping cheap beer - Vintersorg would buy you the more expensive stuff, but you like this. It reminds you of being a teenager and sneaking out; spending all the money you had on the few bottles of crappy beer you could get your hands on. You watch Aaron talk to girls; they chatter on an on and he stays his usual monosyllabic self, and it makes you laugh. Vintersorg spends half his time flirting with every girl and guy in the club, and half his time with his hands either in your hands or underneath your clothes, and it makes you laugh even more.
There's a pale light on the horizon when the three of you walk home; Vintersorg in the middle, holding your hand, Aaron on the left, a few paces away from the two of you. You're all headed for Vintersorg's apartment, because that's where the kids are, and you already know that instead of waking them up, you'll quietly roll out a couple of futons and sleep on the floor, letting the kids have Vintersorg's bed. Aaron will roll his eyes and take the couch, after warning you not to do anything he doesn't want to see or hear. It's the routine you've gotten used to now, and the routine you love. You glance at your friend, your lover, and then out over the city that has stolen your heart and soul away forever, and you feel happy. Genuinely happy.
It's been a good night.
~fin~
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