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“Well, that sure was… something .” Pete looked down at the wrecked drum kit before looking up at Keith’s face, who was all smiles in his ginger suit and seemed blissfully unaware of the impact he caused. Or maybe he was aware, Pete was finding it very hard to read him.
Pete looked back at Roger and John, trying to see if either of them had something, anything, to back him up there.
Roger was also drawing a blank on what to say. Was he impressed? Absolutely, especially considering they never had anyone in their band that played drums like… that . But did they really need someone that destructive? They weren’t exactly that well off to be covering random expenses like that.
John was quiet as per usual and somehow grew even quieter when Keith’s big, bright eyes met his. The moment Keith showed up to play with them John didn’t like the way he looked at him. Not because he came off as hostile or anything like that. In fact, he was friendly. Perhaps a little too friendly. And maybe John was seeing things but Keith seemed to look at him with particular interest.
And to someone like John who didn’t like being the center of attention, having Keith look at him as if seeking some kind of approval from him specifically was weird, almost off-putting.
He looked away at nothing in particular, avoiding Keith’s gaze, and breathed a silent sigh of relief when Roger spoke up.
“OK, so… You think you can start… right away?” Roger wasn’t sure what Keith’s response was gonna be. After all, he already had a band, and a daytime job, so he didn’t expect him to drop everything and come running into their arms.
“Right… Right away?!” Keith sounded between surprised and elated. Sure, he had been with the Beachcombers for a good while now, but he felt that he needed more outlets for his pent-up energy, and joining a side gig sounded like the best option. He just didn’t expect to be hired from the get-go. In fact, he was expecting them to deem him ‘too wild’ and tell him to bugger off. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened.
“Look, I know you got your things and all, but we are kinda pressed for time here.” Pete chimed in. He remembered their audition at Fontana and how the label was unimpressed by the drumming in their songs, and the whole mess that caused, leaving them without a permanent drummer. They kinda needed to fix their fuck up and they needed to do it fast if they ever hoped to have another shot at a label soon. Money was running out and fast.
“Well, looks like you guys truly are helpless without me.” Keith’s confident smile was back on his face, and his eyes rested on John again, who still refused to look at him. “And what about him? Is he OK with me joining in? He doesn’t seem to like me very much.” He used a drumstick to point at John, and soon all eyes were on him.
John hated that.
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Pete didn’t know why John was acting more stand-offish than usual, but he wasn’t about to ask him why. They didn’t need to get into an argument right in front of Keith. They could save that side of their band for later.
“Alright, it’s settled then.” Roger shifted his attention back to Keith. “Can you show up to play with us again on Monday?” He knew it was kinda short notice to ask that from Keith, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.
Keith thought about his boring day job selling plaster and the answer was pretty obvious to him.
“Sure, I’ll be there.” Keith could see the clear look of relief on both Pete and Roger’s faces. He couldn’t be sure about John, as he was still avoiding eye contact, but he guessed he wasn’t very thrilled about it.
As they packed up their stuff, Keith, who didn’t have anything to pack up to begin with, walked back to the bar at the club they were playing at and asked for a drink. Despite the bright confident smile on his face that was just a clever ruse to disguise his nervousness. All in all, it all worked fine, but things could have gone south very easily, especially with how he destroyed the drum kit. Only when he moved his hand to grab his drink he noticed how they were shaking.
Meanwhile, John finished putting his stuff away and needed a drink as well, if anything to get Keith’s eyes away from his thoughts, but with the drummer hovering around the bar, getting a drink was easier said than done.
He waited a bit to see if Keith would leave, but no such luck. He seemed to be drinking at a painfully slow pace, and John swore under his breath as he walked up to the bar, planning to get his drink in silence, down it in one big gulp, and leave.
Keith managed to get him to fail step one of his plan.
“Hey there, did you come over to give me your ‘blessing’ to join the band?” Keith said in a joking tone.
John looked at Keith from the corner of his eye and was about to give him a harsh reply to hopefully be left alone when he noticed the very subtle shaking of Keith’s hand. So this kid wasn’t as confident as he was trying to come off as. That put John a little more at ease. Maybe he was just blowing things out of proportion and Keith’s staring was more out of nervousness than anything else. He’s seen Pete do that before. Get so nervous he just didn’t know where to look at.
He felt his shoulders drop some, taking a seat at the counter.
“Why would you need my blessing? It’s already decided that you are going to play with us on Monday, right?” John still didn’t look at Keith directly, ordering a dose of whiskey from the bartender.
“… You are weird.” A beat. “I like it.”
John felt his body stiffen up again. What the hell was this guy saying? Did the alcohol already get to his head?
“Good for you.” John figured that he should nip whatever was going on in the bud right away. He could see Keith looking at him again the same way he did earlier before he sat down at the drums and it unnerved him. That staring was certainly not out of nervousness, John was sure of it now.
“Why are you always avoiding looking at me? Are you scared you’ll fall in love with me?” Keith batted his eyelashes in a comically exaggerated fashion but stopped immediately when John finally looked at him or rather glared at him.
“Whatever it is you are trying to do: stop.” John figured it was easier to tell Keith straight that no, he wasn’t even a bit interested, even though staring at those bright, brown eyes threw him off a bit.
“I’m not trying to do anything.” Keith took a sip from his drink, feeling his hands shake just a little stronger than before but still managing to keep a mischievous smile on his face. John’s presence alone made him anxious from the very start, and the stern way he looked and talked to him didn’t make things any easier. Still, he remained fascinated by this tall, almost pale-skinned guy who played the ‘I’m the quiet, distant one’ role like his life depended on it. Keith never met anyone quite like that and it sparked something inside him he couldn’t quite explain what it was.
But he kinda liked the feeling.
“… At least try not to make it so obvious your hands are shaking when you are trying to hit on someone.” John shifted his attention back to his drink, determined to down it and leave like he initially planned to.
Now Keith wouldn’t quite describe what he was trying to do as ‘hitting on’. Not that he knew what he was doing in the first place, because from the moment he approached the stage asking to play the drums up until that very moment, everything was a bit of a haze to him and the only reason why he didn’t make it obvious he was a nervous wreck was because he downed some drinks beforehand and the term ‘shyness’ didn’t quite exist in his dictionary. But ‘hitting on’ was a bit of a strong word.
“If my hands weren’t shaking would you be more impressed?” Keith talked without thinking but wasn’t particularly bothered by it despite his smile faltering for a moment. It was better than the alternative of letting some awkward silence settle between them.
John froze up in the middle of taking a sip from his glass, not daring to look at Keith, not even from the corner of his eyes. But he could sense Keith’s inquiring eyes on him as he waited for an answer.
What was he supposed to say in response to that? What even was Keith’s end goal with all that? Was he genuinely hitting on him or was he just pulling his leg in the most convoluted way? Because if it was the latter it was working like a charm. John was never this stumped before on what to say or do. He liked to think of himself as someone who didn’t feel nervous, who was way too collected to let things get to him.
Then why was this crazy kid throwing him off so much?
“I dunno Keith.” John finally took a long sip from his drink, almost downing it in one go. He didn’t though and he wondered why. Was he trying to find an excuse to stay?
“Then I guess we are gonna have to find that out on Monday.” Keith did gulp down the rest of his drink in one go, smile back on his lips as he finally looked away from John. “Or we can find that out right now.”
Keith moved his hand to wave at the bartender but stopped when John’s hand took a hold of his wrist. It was his turn to freeze in place.
“We’ll find out on Monday.” John had no idea what he was doing or talking about. What he did know was that the bit of skin he could feel against his hand was warm. And that Keith’s wrist was small. And that made him feel weird. So much so that he let go of that wrist almost as abruptly as he held on to it.
“OK, Monday.” In a way Keith was relieved. He felt like he was on the verge of throwing up, and he didn’t know if it was because his nervousness skyrocketed when John grabbed his wrist or if it was because he had been drinking all evening without a single piece of food in his stomach. It could easily be a combination of both. Either way, throwing up in front of John would probably not leave the best impression.
“You really are weird.” Keith chuckled to himself as he got up from his seat at the bar, legs a little wobbly. He should probably try and find a food cart once he got out of that club.
The pot calls the kettle black… John thought to himself.
“You think I’m weird too, don’t you?” Keith watched John’s eyes widen a little and shift to look at him. He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Guess we are gonna be weird together from now on. Catch you on Monday!” He stepped back, almost tripping on his own feet. A little less embarrassing and gross than puking, that was for sure.
John watched over his shoulder as Keith walked up to the front door of the club with uneven steps and disappeared into the dark streets.
He let out a breath he didn’t even notice he was holding in when Keith was out of his sight, and he couldn’t help but rub the part of his hand that touched Keith’s hot skin with his thumb as he took one last sip of his drink.
Stupid kid, with his stupid big, brown eyes and delicate wrist.
He couldn’t wait for Monday night.