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Despite everything Reggie Peters is not an angry person. He doesn’t like to fight or argue or get short with people, that doesn’t mean he won’t but he couldn’t hold a grudge for long no matter how badly someone might cross him. He doesn’t like being mad at anyone. It's almost a miracle that he's so easy-going considering his parents found a way to turn everything into a screaming match and they would always drag him into it. Granted they were usually screaming about him to begin with.
Most days Reggie would go to band practice or the music store or even just sit on the curbside until it was dark instead of walking home, some days the boys would join in; typically it was just Luke who would buy pizza and cherry coke to share, and later into the night Reggie would sneak into his house from his bedroom window and wake up an hour early before school to avoid any morning shouting.
Everything developed a rhythm and Reggie fell into the shoty melody of his life. It was just the way things were. Luke would always ramble on about how they were going to make it big and everything would be different, better than ever, and the excitement and determination Luke had was infectious and gave Reggie a jolt of hope every single time. They would be famous and Reggie's parents would never complain about him again.
It's a nice dream, one that they all really believed in, but the reality of how unlikely it would be was beginning to weigh heavy on Reggie's shoulders. Maybe it was because his mom kept mentioning his uncle needed help at his auto shop or how his dad would go off that Reggie would be lucky if military school would take him with how lousy his grades were. His dad screamed that to the high heavens that Sunset Curve was destined to crash and burn, he’d shout it whenever he was drunk and knocking Reggie around senseless.
Now, Reggie could handle a whipping better than anyone else in the band, although it wasn’t something to brag about and tonight didn’t seem any different. Reggie was unlucky enough to be trapped at home, the others already at the studio but he got stuck in the bad weather, forced to stay in place. Reggie was a “in rain or shine” type to be there for the band, but he was sick last week and couldn’t afford to let it happen again and tonight it was really pounding down out there.
It was raining. Hard. Pouring down so harshly that anything more than a few yards away looked blurred from the rain, and the wind kept knocking over anything that wasn’t bolted down. The loud thunder made Reggie jump every time and he decided that if he couldn’t practice with the band he could at least listen to one of their CDs, and cringe whenever he heard himself play knowing he could do those riffs ten times better now.
Between the thunder and music Reggie hadn’t heard the car pull into the driveway, didn’t hear the keys jingling around in a fit of annoyance, or how his sister had knocked on his door in the quick rhythm he taught her to notify each other when dad was home and angry. A special way to know it was time to prepare for the worst.
So it came as an unwelcoming surprise when Reggie’s door swung open with a loud thud and his dad came barreling in, knocking the headphones off Reggie’s head and grabbing him by the front of his collar with an abrupt shake.
“There you are, you good for nothing.” Mr. Peters’ speech slurred and his thinning hair dripping wet from the rain. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”
“I-I didn’t.” Reggie mumbled, trying to loosen the hold on his shirt. It’s best to avoid talking too much. Mr. Peters shoved him to the bed and grabbed the CD off the floor, holding it up.
“Too busy with that shit music to do your damn chores? Huh, Mr. Big Shot? Can’t be bothered with doing something as simple as bring in the trash when it rains?”
Reggie silently cusses himself out for forgetting and shrinks into himself. “I didn’t mean to. I just forgot.” He said, trying keep his nerves as even as possible.
“You keep listening to your own trash instead of being useful around here. Think you’re going make it big, huh? That you’ll catch a break and become famous? Well, I got news for you, buddy, ain’t no Peters ever been lucky like that. Better get used to the disappointment now.” He harshly tossed the CD at Reggie’s chest and the guitarist prays that it’ll end there, but it doesn’t. It never does. His dad grabbed a fist full of his hair and tugged hard enough that it was already giving Reggie a headache. “Your uncle giving you that guitar was a mistake. I should’ve broken it in half on the spot. You aren’t ever going to be famous. You understand that, Reginald?”
There isn’t a response, he can’t bring himself to say anything despite knowing it would only make things worse. He believed in the band, believed in his friends and their talents too much to go against them like this; even if he would be lying to save his own skin in the moment.
“You listening to me, boy?” There’s another painful yank on his hair and he winced at the sharp discomfort, and the smell of beer was strong enough that it made him want to gag. “Or you too stupid to understand me?”
“No.” Reggie said barely above a whisper.
“No what?” His dad’s voice became dangerously low, eyes narrowed.
Reggie took in a steady breath. “No, sir.”
Mr. Peters pulled his son by the hair and pushed Reggie from the bed to the ground in a tight grip, tossing him against the nearby night stand and the force of it is strong enough that it slashes the side of his hairline open. The cut is already dripping blood and starting to string, but the pain was nothing he was willing to cry about in front of his dad.
Getting tossed around like this wasn’t so bad, he could handle it. Besides, eventually it would end and he could run to his friends and pretend he was already a rock star playing gigs wherever.
There’s a clap of thunder and he can’t stop himself from flinching from the sudden sound. You’d think hanging around Alex who had a habit of loudly drumming at random moments would make him more at ease with abrupt noise.
“You and those fruity friends aren’t ever going to amount to anything.” Mr. Peters sneered, slamming his open palm against the side of Reggie’s head who raised his arms to his face in a half ditch effort to protect himself.
“You can’t-” Reggie swallowed the lump in his throat. It felt like a block of ice dropped in the pit of his stomach and a jolt of anger ran through his entire body. Despite everything Reggie has never considered hating his parents, but there were some lines he didn't want them to cross. “You can’t call my friends that.”
His cheek was stinging from the harsh slap and the gash wound was beginning to drip blood down his forehead and into his eye making it twitch close. It wasn’t fair. His dad could take shots at him all he wanted, Reggie felt he probably deserved it anyways, but it wasn’t fair for him to go after Luke and Alex and Bobby like that.
Mr. Peters hovered over his son with an angry, drunken gleam in his eyes that made Reggie’s heart sink.
“Don’t go talking back to me, boy. I know they’re type and no son of mine is going to turn into some flaming fairy in a dead-end punk band!” Mr. Peters landed a few blows to Reggie’s head and chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs and disorienting him. The punches came down quick and accompanied with every cuss word and slur under the sun, Reggie’s ears ring loudly as his heart beat went faster. The smell of beer making his eyes water.
He couldn’t stand hearing insults be thrown at his friends and the adrenaline started to kick in, blood getting in his eye and already feeling bruises beginning to form. Reggie had to get out of here. Now.
“You and those good for nothing punks are going to end up dead in the street, you hear me!” Mr. Peters spat at him.
“Y-you’re wrong!” Reggie wanted to scream and cry but he could barely choke out the words in defense of his friends, one of the rare times his blood boiled in rage. “And leave my friends out of it!”
Avoiding another blow to the head Reggie dodged quick enough, his dad’s fist slamming full force into the stand night and slouching in pain right after giving the guitarist enough time to book it out of there. Mr. Peters groaned out in throbbing pain before chasing after his son, screaming his face red. Reggie ran out his bedroom, tripping over a pile of clothes on the way out and slamming into a wall.
Mr. Peters went after him in a fit of blind rage. “I’m not done with you!” He yelled. “You bet get back here, Reginald!” For a moment he had gotten close enough to grab a hold of the back of Reggie’s hoodie but he slipped out of it and bolted towards the back door. Swinging it open and jumping over the steps to avoid his dad getting close again.
Reggie climbed over his fence and caught sight of his dad watching him from the back pouch, half bent over and drunkenly shouting loud enough for half the neighborhood to hear. “I don’t want to see your face around here again!” He can barely pick up the words over the sound of pouring rain and his own racing heartbeat, but he knows the words don’t hold any weight.
He leaned against the other side of the wooden fence, catching his breath and fists balled up so tight his nails were digging into skin. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don't cry. Don’t cry.” He kept repeating it until the words were too stained to understand. “He’s not worth it.”
The pouring rain sounds like static, his ears still ringing making it hard to ground himself. He felt lightheaded with blood in his eye still. More thunder boomed nearby and his shoulders raised in spite of himself, his nerves were entirely shot.
Reggie used the end of his shirt to wipe away the sticky blood that mixed with rain and watery red blotches stained his white T-shirt that was beginning to cling to his skin. The chilling rain sending goosebumps all over his arms. When he thinks his breathing is back to normal Reggie starts walking and his feet already know which direction to go towards before his brain is able to catch up and think about it. Heading towards the only place he’s gladly called home knowing that the people he needed the most would be there. Maybe it’s selfish to show up on his friends’ doorstep beaten and bloody, but he can’t think of anywhere else to go. It’s not like they would ever reject him.
By the time Reggie makes it to the garage studio the sun is setting, but it doesn’t make too much of a difference in how bright it is. The sky already clouded over in a dark grey and he was glad the rain was beginning to slow to a drizzle, the cold wind biting at his exposed skin and making him shiver uncontrollably. He prayed, something he had been doing more often now, that anyone of the boys had still been there to let him in. There hadn’t been any time to grab his keys to the studio, there hadn’t been time to do anything really he couldn’t even think. The only thought on his mind was to get out of his house and be with his friends. No matter what happened he’d be alright with them. Maybe he was a little too dependent but that was a problem to worry about another day.
He bangs his fist against the garage door, even now dizzy and a little dazed Reggie manages to knock in the rhythm Luke had made up when they were 12 and wanted to feel cooler than they were, a secret passcode that only the four of them knew.
It doesn’t take long for one of his bandmates to open the side door and quickly let him in, it was Bobby who looked completely bewildered and pulled Reggie inside without hesitation.
“Reg? Holy hell, dude, you look awful. What happened? It’s freezing out there! Come on, come in,” Bobby grabbed the guitarist by the hand and led him inside. “Where’s your jacket, man? You’re going to get sick again.”
It makes Reggie’s chest warm to have someone worry over him like that, it made him feel like he mattered. That someone cared where he was and if he was okay. Although, there’s a ting of guilt that runs up his spin for stressing them out every now and again.
“Look what the cat dragg-” Luke’s words die on his lips, his smile drops the moment his eyes land on Reggie who’s soaking wet and shaking, blood smudged on his cheek and shirt. Alex and Luke jump up from their spot on the couch and rush over to their friend in a fit of worry. “Who did it? I swear I’ll kill them.” Luke said, a dangerous glint in his eyes that made it clear he was furious.
Alex pulled Reggie over to him, carefully checking on the gash wound that’s covered in drying blood, and he tries not to flinch when Alex touches a sensitive spot.
“Who do you think, bozo? His old man, same as always.” Bobby’s voice has a venom behind that makes Reggie a little uneasy. Although he feels a little special to have them be so protective.
“Can you not start with that right now?” Alex said his eyes trained on Reggie’s injuries. “Bobby, mind getting the first aid?” The drummer guided his hurt friend back to the couch and looked for any more cuts and bruises, there were few to be found, and every wound made Alex’s anxiety rise. Luke is pacing around and mumbling words that are a mix of insults and swears. It’s rare for Luke to get so heated but whenever one of the bandmates has family troubles he can’t help but get worked over it pretty quickly.
Reggie leans into Alex’s soft touch and he already feels better just being there. “He didn’t get you too bad, nothing that some makeup can’t cover up. I don’t think you’ll need stitches either.” Alex wasn’t completely paying attention to what he was saying, too focused on examining for anything serious. His hands were warm against Reggie’s skin that was freezing and it’s comforting for a number of reasons. “What happened?”
Alex pulls away and Reggie misses the warmth almost immediately, he can’t stop himself from shivering again. Luke catches sight of it and sits on the couch with them, close enough to put an arm around the guitarist. Reggie feels flushed but doesn’t think about it too hard. Thinking about anything just made his creeping headache worse. He wasn't much of a thinker anyways.
“Nothing that wasn’t my fault,” Reggie shrugged, choking out a laugh and his friends shared an unconvinced look. Bobby comes back with the first aid and tosses over a towel and dry flannel that’s two sizes too big, likely one of Luke’s. “Really guys, he was drunk and I should’ve done my chores before it rained. He-he- didn’t mean anything by it.” Even Reggie couldn’t believe his own words, fingers digging into his thighs as he barely held himself together, but it was useless. His dad's words repeat over in head and tears started running down his cheeks, his face twisting up in a sob that he can't hold back any longer. Alex hugs him and he cries into the blonde’s shoulder.
Bobby and Luke exchange a worried glance, unsure how to comfort their friend. “Hey, hey.” Alex rubbed a smooth hand up and down his friend’s back. “None of it is your fault. He shouldn’t go around doing that stuff, Reg. You don’t deserve that kind of thing. Come on, let’s patch you up.”
Reggie hiccups a few times and nodded his head, face red and blotchy from crying.
“I’ll-” Luke quickly butted in, his voice cracking and having to clear his throat. “I’ll help him out. You guys can, uh, can get some food for him in the mini fridge.”
“Sure, buddy.” Bobby agreed, a knowing grin playing on his face. “Come on, Mercer. Let’s give the two of them some space so Luke can play doctor.” The remark makes Luke turn a little red but he tries to ignore the rising heat in his face.
“Lay off, Robert.” Alex nudged him as they made their way into the other room.
Reggie wipes away a few stray tears and flinches when he presses too hard on the bruise on his cheek. “Don’t mind him too much, Reg. Bobby is just being full of it again.” Luke rolled his eyes but adjusted his position on the couch to better face his friend and grabbed the towel to start drying off the rain that’s still dripping down his face. Carefully wiping away some more tears with soft fabric.
“I don’t mind. Bobby is just trying to be funny,” the guitarist shrugged and forced out a good-naturally smile that makes Luke grin despite himself. They spend the rest of the time in silence as Luke gently cleans the cut on Reggie’s forehead and wipes away the rest of the remaining blood, it’s nice to be taken care of. Reggie goes from freezing cold to burning up with the way Luke leans closer to make sure he’s being gentle enough. The singer’s glaze is sharp and makes a knot twist up in Reg’s stomach as he tries not to stare.
When they were kids Reggie was the first to get hurt, falling off his bike, falling out of trees, falling down the stairs and every time Luke would be the one to patch up all his scrapes and cuts. Although Alex is a little better with it, that didn’t matter. Reggie liked the way Luke got caught up in what he was doing, focused and steady and always so close. The only difference now is that Luke didn’t kiss where he had put the band-aids, it just fell out of use the older they got and Reggie was a little embarrassed to say he missed that aspect of it. There were days he would do something stupid knowing full well he’d get hurt just so Luke would give him that kind of attention and care.
“Your hair is messy,” Luke notes once he’s done with the first aid, pressing the towel to Reggie’s head only for the guitarist to recoil at the touch. Luke reeled his hand back, his face dropping to something entirety sympathetic.
“Sorry,” Reggie relaxed his shoulders slightly. “He, uh, he pulled on my hair. My head is still a little sore.” There's a flash of anger in Luke’s eyes but he softens up when he sees Reggie putting out a smile.
“It’s okay. Change out of that wet shirt. You’ll catch a cold again. I can’t have my favorite bassist out sick all the time.” Luke grinned, a hand placed behind Reggie’s neck and pulled them closer, foreheads pressed together. Luke never knew the meaning of personal space and it was a boundary that Reggie was fine with him invading. It’s just natural for them now.
“Careful that Bobby doesn’t hear you saying that. I think he’ll have a few words about it,” Reggie laughed lightly and glanced at Luke’s mouth, adoring the way the corner of his lips curled in a slight smile that he tried to bite back, eyebrows raised to the point they disappeared into the singer's shaggy bangs. Reggie’s stomach lurches when his mind thinks of him biting onto Luke’s lip instead and he has to be careful to ignore the thought altogether.
“Oh, I think he knows.” Bobby voices come from behind them and they jump away from each other in an instant. Faces flushed red and grinning like children caught doing something dumb. Alex has an arm full of chips and soda, but tosses the only water bottle at Reggie who sticks his tongue out at him; both knowing he’s forgotten to drink any during the day.
“Sorry, Rob.” Luke shrinks into himself with a smile. “You know what I mean.”
“Sure I do.” Bobby rolls his eyes but he can’t help smile back, lighting up a cigarette. He was the only member that smoked. Alex used to until he heard it caused lung cancer and freaked out after his aunt got sick from it. Luke never touched the stuff, he didn’t want to take a chance ruining his voice. Reggie would whenever it was just him and Bobby and he felt a little too wired. “Is the kid feeling better?”
Reggie’s shirt awkwardly sticks to his skin and he peels it off to replace it with the dry flannel that smells like body spray and second-hand smoke. “He’s alright.” Luke answered, avoiding his eyes towards the band member in question not wanting to go redder.
“I’m fine.” Reggie confirmed, his mood shifting back to his usual happy-go-lucky self, cheeks a rosy pink and band-aids covering various spots on his face. Being around his friends always lifted his spirits. “Sorry that my face is going to look beat up for our next gig. It might not be the best look for us.”
“Hell Reginald, I think it makes you look cool.” Bobby says after a puff of smoke and Luke is shooting him a glare with every huff. He hated indoor smoking. “Maybe we’ll finally get some street cred with you how tough you look. Right, Patterson?” Bobby winked at Reggie as Luke blinks a few times and turns little red with a thin, wavering smile.
“Y-yeah. Reggie always- he always looks cool.” Luke said, flushed. Reggie notices and it drives him a little crazy that he could make a guy like Luke turn red. He doesn’t want to admit why that excites him so much, but he enjoys it nonetheless.
Alex stares back and forth between Luke and Reggie, grinning when he catches the way the two can’t help but smile at each other. There’s always a certain look that they gave each other, like they knew a secret that was only theirs to tell. He knew what that look meant and he knew Bobby saw it with the way he was teasing Luke. Hopefully the two of them would figure it out too instead of always doing this little song and dance around their feelings. Maybe, someday they'll admit their little secret out loud.