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A stone is kicked over, the pale smooth underbelly exposed to the sordid elements. It's been getting colder, and wetter out, the wind whipping coats and umbrellas foolish enough to bear the September storms. One such idiot is Matt, wrapped in his biggest jacket and his second biggest hoodie, iced fingers jammed into bodywarm pockets as he heads down the street to the bar.
As soon as he makes it to the location, he’s shoving all 6 feet and 5 inches of himself through the door, shaking rain out of his hair and whining quietly as it bounces back curled. He spent so long on his hair, and for this? Truly fate is a cruel, unmerciful mistress. A hand wraps around his arm; he’s been found by Edd, who is now tugging him boothwards. They have a corner of their own, to watch Tom play here on the weekends. Tord is waiting for them on his side of the table, sipping at what may be his third tepid watery beer. He waves, and then burps. And then burps again. And then Edd burps. Matt tears his arm away with a disgusted look, removing his jacket and hanging it up to dry. He sits across from Tord, waits a moment, and then burps louder than the two of them, catching Tom’s attention at the microphone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, am I distracting you dumbasses from your gas battle? Rein it in, I’ll be done playing soon.” He quips with a snicker, strumming away before he launches into another song. Matt and a few others can’t help but laugh, and Tom’s clearly smiling as he sings on stage. Edd reappears from somewhere, carrying a can for himself and a cute little flute of champagne for Matt, who scoots over to give him room to sit and sips at his fancy beverage delicately. It’s nice to catch up with his boyfriends after work, especially out, with like, people around.
He loves hanging out indoors, but his heart will always yearn for the attention of the public. He laments this out loud, and enjoys an elbow to the side from Edd, who laughs and gives him a kiss on the ear. Tord’s stolen his champagne, so Matt, clearly losing control here, pours the shitty beer into a potted plant. This results in another scuffle, and by the time Tom finishes up and heads over to their table, Edd has Tord in a headlock, and Matt’s decided he has to fix his hair in the window reflection. He does perk up when he sees Tom, though, and neatly manoeuvres around Edd to leap into Tom’s arms and give him a big kiss.
“You sounded great tonight!”
Tom grins, leans up to give him another peck. “Gosh gee, I sure hope so, I only practiced for a whole two weeks.”
Extracting himself from Edd with a few well aimed jabs and pokes, Tord ruffles up Tom’s slicked back hair and pinches his cheek. “When is the EP coming out, eh Tom?”
“Oh shut up, you stole all my mixtapes and you fuckin’ know it.” Tom wrinkles his nose at Tord, who flushes.
“Only because, ah, they are so bad I had to save everybody else from hearing them!” There’s a soft sigh to their left, and the three glance over to Edd, who is making the most ridiculous moony-eyes ever to be seen.
Matt speaks up first. “What?”
Edd rests his chin in a hand, smiling softly. “You’re all so fucking stupid.”