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fWhip twirled a drumstick in one hand while he scrolled on his phone in the other. He was supposed to be helping Scott with timing at the moment, but clearly Scott had a lot of work to do since he couldn’t even get the timing of their meeting right. He turned his phone off and tossed it onto his jacket on the floor. He might as well get some practice in while he was waiting. Their only booked gig was three weeks off, but he did have this rehearsal room for the next- he glanced at the clock- hour and thirty-two minutes.
fWhip could admit he was playing harder than usual, he knew Scott was always perfectly punctual. If he was supposed to be rehearsing with anyone else, would he be late? He tried to let the clang of the cymbals muffle his thoughts and focus on playing.
When he had exactly one hour and nineteen minutes left in the room (thanks wall clock) there was a knock at the door. fWhip huffed and gathered his drumsticks into one hand, pulling his headphones off with the other hand. When he pulled the door open, he was met with a sheepish grin from Scott. It was so unlike him, it made fWhip’s guts feel weird, almost like… guilt? For assuming Scott was just being a bitch again? Nah, that couldn’t be right.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, my meeting ran late with my advisor. Guess who’s failing Advanced Music Theory.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “I guess it’s no surprise we needed to have this extra rehearsal.”
Scott slumped into the extra chair, dropping his backpack on the floor heavily. fWhip took the cue to return to his seat behind the drum set. Scott let out a slow breath and pulled his music folder from the bag by his feet. fWhip referenced his set list to decide what they needed to go over and counted them off.
Scott started off fairly alright, the only problem was his voice being shakier than normal, but he had rushed to meet fWhip. fWhip was starting to think maybe he had just been having an off time at their last couple rehearsals. Then he missed one word and it started going downhill.
After that, it was like he had broken his stride, and he was missing several words per section and missing timing cues. Scott kept switching how he was counting, too. He started with the basic foot tap, but then he switched to different hand motions and just overall radiating energy.
fWhip could see that he was struggling. He was supposed to be here to help, but he was almost scared to butt in at all. Scott was playing quite the ticking time bomb today. Usually that was fWhip’s thing. With far more confidence than he was feeling, he jumped in a couple times to try to help with the timing like he had promised, but Scott just couldn’t seem to focus. Eventually, the fuse ran out.
“Fuck!” Scott exclaimed, dropping his folder on the floor. He ran his fingers across his face, through his hair.
fWhip felt awkward, he didn’t know what one did when alone with a band mate he’d never hung out with one on one before, and said band mate was having a breakdown. Was there a protocol to this sort of thing? A secret code maybe that all drummers everywhere should know?
And oh shit, Scott was definitely starting to cry. Fuck.
fWhip stood up stiffly, with no idea of what he was planning to do. Hug Scott? Leave? Establish a safe haven across the sea where no one would ever be emotionally vulnerable near him again?
It was no use. Scott was between him and the door. He would never make it out.
fWhip took a few awkward steps towards Scott, stopping about a foot from him. He reached out a hand tentatively, patting his back twice.
Scott looked up and it seemed his emotions had been halted for a moment.
“The fuck are you doing?”
“I don’t know!” fWhip cried. “I just want to-” he paused, and realized with resignation what was about to come out of his mouth. “Help.” fWhip finished lamely.
Scott gave him a small smile for his trouble.
“I don’t think you can. I appreciate you trying to help me today, but I think you might be better served by finding a new vocalist.” He started to gather his things off the floor. fWhip squatted down to help him, but didn’t give up.
“Scott, we can’t replace you! You can’t leave.” He found himself extending the situation he had been looking for escape from just moments earlier.
“Why do you care, fWhip? You hardly know me. I don’t even know if I want to keep doing music at all. Believe me, it’s not personal.”
“Why?” fWhip met his eyes. They were still crouched on the floor, but all of Scott’s papers had been gathered by now.
“Why is it not personal?” Scott scoffed.
“Why do you want to give up?”
Scott stood abruptly and started shoving his folder back into his bag on the chair. “Just because you stop doing something, doesn’t mean you’ve given up. This just isn’t what I thought it would be. I hate everything that comes out of my mouth now. You know, I became a music major because I was so passionate about it, but now, it’s like… a chore. And a chore that makes me feel shitty, at that. You and the rest of the band, you’re passionate and talented and you know the vocabulary. I can’t keep up. Sorry, fWhip. I can send you a list of music majors that are vocal-specific. I’m sure you’ll find someone great. There’s this girl, Lizzie, I think she’s a perfect octave difference so you wouldn’t even need to transpose.”
fWhip’s movements didn’t feel awkward anymore as he reached out to grab Scott’s arm.
“We don’t want a new vocalist, Scott, we want you. I want you. I know we don’t know each other very well, but you’re talented, and I think if you got a little out of your head- here, I have an idea.”
He darted back behind the drum kit, and Scott set his bag down with a tired sigh.
“Whatever you can think of, I’m sure my vocal coaches have already tried.”
Drumsticks in hand, fWhip ignored him.
“Alright, what’s your favorite song. Absolute favorite. Just whatever comes to mind.”
Scott shook his head but spit out a name.
fWhip pulled it up on his phone and put his headphones on. He thought better of it and pulled them down to speak.
“Okay, once I put these on I won’t hear you at all, but I can play the beat as it sounds on the original track.”
“Yes, fWhip, I know how you play.” Scott said, exasperated.
fWhip carried on like he hadn’t heard him. “Face the wall.”
“What?”
“I won’t be able to see you working and you won’t be able to see me. It’ll be like you’re alone, alright?”
Scott didn’t look convinced, but he did as fWhip said. As they worked through it together, fWhip realized that Scott was definitely singing outside his home genre when he was with the band. Maybe if they picked some other songs, he would feel more comfortable. He kept thinking over it until the track ended, various ways that might make Scott enjoy their music more. When the voice playing in his headphones stopped, Scott turned back to face him again. He was clearly trying to suppress a smile, but it was given away easily by the scrunch around his eyes. fWhip pulled his headphones down and tried to keep his hopes low with them.
“So?” fWhip asked, barely resisting putting his drumsticks down so he could cross his fingers.
“I’ll stay with the band.” Scott said decisively, but quickly put up a hand to stop fWhip so he could continue. “But, I’m dropping my vocal coaches. And I get to pick two songs per set.”
“Deal.” fWhip agreed with a grin. “I still have the practice room for forty-five minutes, if you wanted to call the rest of the band?”
“No. I’m going home to celebrate my fall from grace.” Scott turned to the door, but hesitated before opening it. “You could come hang out. If you want.”
fWhip nodded and tried to casually follow him out. He was glad they were bridging the gap between them. He felt like he understood Scott a little better now. And it seemed like maybe Scott didn’t actually hate him. fWhip did know he liked Scott better than before. Maybe some more drummer/vocalist practices could be helpful. For multiple goals.