Work Text:
Kayn bounced on his heels, jamming his fists into his jacket. The sun had barely set, but it was already cold and his jeans and leather were not cutting it.
He checked his phone again. Doors in thirty. She was supposed to be here by now. And here he was, freezing his ass off right by himself in front of the diviest dive he’d ever seen in Ionia.
“Aw hell, who let this poser in?”
Kayn looked up at the snark. Did a double-take. “Kat?”
“In the damn flesh.” It’d been nearly a year, but that razor-edged grin was unmistakable. She clapped her hand into his waiting palm, and cursed when he yanked her in for a one-armed hug.
“Nice hair,” he teased, ruffling his free hand over her scalp. “It actually looks decent for once.”
“Wow, original.” She ran her palm over her undercut, grinning nonetheless. “Fortune cleaned it up for me. Looks good, eh?”
“That why you don’t look like you lost a fight with a weedeater anymore?”
Katarina shoved him. Kayn shoved her back.
“Kitty-Kat, I—oh! Sorry.”
Sarah gave an apologetic smile from behind her, holding out a hand as the other landed on Katarina’s shoulder. “You must be Kayn,” she greeted, giving him a deceptively firm handshake, “Kat mentioned you were trying to make it out tonight. Really appreciate it!”
Kayn’s jaw worked, briefly starstruck. “Yeah, I—yeah,” he managed weakly. “Wouldn’t... miss it.”
Sarah’s smile was dazzling even in the flickering outdoor light. “Aw, thanks! I’d love to talk, but I need to borrow this one.” Her social-media grin vanished so quickly as she turned her attention, it nearly gave Kayn whiplash. Kat seemed unaffected, still smirking. “Kat, baby, need you to come help Rell. We’re running behind.”
Kat grimaced. “Literally always something. Be right there.”
Sarah nodded, and gave Kayn a polite smile and finger-wave as she turned to go. “Nice meeting you!”
Katarina heaved a sigh that didn’t sound convincingly annoyed. “Alright, workin’ time. We’ll catch up after, yeah?”
Kayn gave her a sarcastic finger-wave of his own. “Sure thing, baby.” He pursed his mouth in a mocking kissy-face.
Kat lifted both middle fingers, holding them aloft until she disappeared into the bar.
Kayn was starting to think Fortune’s composure was unshakeable, smiling wryly even in the flashing lights of cop cars. “No, I don’t think pressing charges will be necessary.”
It was still stupid cold outside, particularly while sitting on the curb with his head between his knees. But the cold air was a welcome reprieve to the pulsing pain of his nosebleed. The elbow that’d smashed into his nose had been purposeful even if Kayn had just been trying to pull someone off Katarina’s back. He supposed he was lucky he didn’t have a pair of shiners too.
“Ha! Yes, officer, I suspect the lesson has already been made abundantly clear. Thank you.”
He glanced over at Katarina slouched next to him, scowling as she held a wad of napkins to her bloodied mouth. Her knuckles were starting to swell. Kayn hadn’t heard whatever the drunk near the back had shouted near the end of FirstBlood’s set—Fortune’s amp stack had blown his expectations and his eardrums in short order—but he was close enough to see the tension ripple through Katarina’s jaw. Even Fortune had frowned, cutting her eyes over to the bouncer.
It’d happened fast. Katarina had been perched on her ego riser, then the microphone was dropping to the floor, she’d shouldered through the mosh pit, and Kayn hadn’t seen the punch land but he sure heard it.
Kat caught his look and grinned coldly. Nodded at the dried blood Kayn was scratching off his top lip. “That an actual break?”
Kayn thumbed his swollen nose, wincing. “Don’t think so. Not gonna be pretty in the morning, though.”
“You’re never pretty in the morning.”
He almost laughed. “Fuck off.”
“—yes, thank you so much officer.” Sarah was shaking hands with them now as they began leaving. “I think everything’s settled. I’ll handle my troublemakers myself. Stay safe!”
If Kayn thought Fortune’s ability to drop a smile instantly was unnerving before, the furious, incredulous look she whipped on them now was petrifying. Even Katarina flinched.
“Fortune—”
“You,” Sarah spoke in a low, measured tone, flat as ice and just as cold, “have lost your mind.”
Katarina threw out her free hand, incredulous. “I’m supposed to just let people talk that shit to you?”
“Yes! You are! That’s what security is for! Kat, you nearly got arrested! In Ionia!” She passed a trembling, frustrated hand over her face. “In the middle of tour!”
Kat looked away, still pissed but chastened now.
Kayn tried to help: “She was just—!”
Sarah rounded on him so fast Kayn bit his tongue shutting up. “You are so lucky I don’t know you well enough to rip you a new one,” she promised, and Kayn had the sudden, bewildering knowledge that she meant it. “But I am not impressed with your ass, either.”
Kayn lifted his hands, dropping his head back between his knees in surrender.
Sarah let out a long, slow exhale, hands on her hips. She kicked at the gravel littering the lot. Paced—swore. “Kat said you traveled in for this gig?” Kayn looked up, bewildered. “C’mon. We’ll drop you off at your hotel.” Sarah snapped her fingers at Katarina. She startled. “Kat, go load your shit up. Now.”
Vrr-vrr.
Kayn grumbled at the blinding light of his phone screen. He pawed around till he could flip it facedown.
Vrr-vrr. Vrr-vrr. Vrr-v—CLACK.
He growled, grabbing the charging cable to reel his phone up from where it’d vibrated right off the nightstand. It’d been late when FirstBlood dropped him off, and he’d intended to sleep in. Now some moron was blowing up his phone.
KUSHO: brooo u good?? whats going on??
KUSHO: like wtf even happened last night
AKALI: F in the chat
KUSHO: oh theyre like mad mad huh
Kayn squinted, frowning as the dull ache of his aching nose began throbbing again. It’d been weeks since Akali had last texted him, and he couldn’t remember what he’d texted for that to be a response. And he rarely had a good idea of what Kusho was ever on about.
He sent a single “?” to Kusho and started to doze—vrr-vrr—but not for long.
KUSHO: are u just waking up bc i think youve been tagged in it like 12 times lol
KUSHO: well not by the vandals obvs but
Kayn squinted, not comprehending what his band had to do with anything. But begrudgingly he unlocked his phone and popped open Hexxer anyway.
He didn’t have to scroll very long. Irony of ironies, it was the top post on his FYP.
@vandalsbandofficial: Due to recent events, the Vandals have elected to part ways with our former vocalist and frontman. We do not tolerate this kind of behavior in our scene. Details on vocalist tryouts forthcoming.
Kayn felt cold again.
‘Elected?’ Kayn hadn’t even been present to be party to that discussion, the hell were they on about, elected?
@vandalsbandofficial ?????
Oops! This message could not go through. Please try again.
Then a blank screen. Kayn felt dizzy, off-center, and not from the pain radiating from his face. He retyped the band’s handle.
You have been blocked from reading this account’s hexposts.
“‘Blocked?’”
@brandon_vandals
You have been blocked from—
@vandalsbandtwitch
You have—
“Come on!”
Kayn seethed . This was just—cowardly. Throwing him out of his own band? Not even bothering to so much as tell him to his face? Or call him? Blocking him?
He pushed himself up to the edge of the bed, fumbling to open the phone. Brand was still in his recent contacts. He punched the name and shoved the phone against his ear.
Didn’t even ring.
At the tone, record your—beep .
Kayn dropped his phone to the bed. He could actually taste the bile rising in his throat. Part of him thought to try Twitch next—his sense of morality probably didn’t care enough to bother blocking his number—but the mere idea that even he might not pick up was dizzying.
His own fucking band!
He managed to stand, wincing at the ugly throb in his skull as he began to pace. Blocked on socials. Blocked on the phone. Nobody around to tell him what he’d even done to get thrown out. He raked a trembling hand through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp to force himself to focus.
Who was there even to talk to now? Who—
He grabbed his phone.
It took a solid six rings before the line picked up.
“You better be dead or dying,” Katarina slurred, hoarse with sleep and overuse.
“Kat they kicked me out of the band,” Kayn rushed out in one breath. He was a little shrill. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
The silence was so long Kayn wondered for an awful moment if she’d hung up. Then, finally, voice slightly clearer in its confusion: “…The hell are you talking about? Who? Not the Vandals.”
“The Vandals, Kat! They blocked me, dude, I’m out!”
“How the hell they gonna kick you out of your own band?”
“I know!”
A brief, muddled sound in the background; Kat covered the mouthpiece briefly. “It’s Kayn. No, I’ve got it. Go back to sleep, doll.”
Kayn glanced over at the hotel clock, a brief lance of guilt slicing through the panic. He hadn’t even checked the time.
But Katarina picked up anyway.
“The Vandals kicked you out?” Katarina repeated, still not awake but starting to get there. “Like seriously?”
“I’m saying! I don’t even know what I did! They’re not talking to me and their socials are just some stupid ‘recent events’ publicity statement!”
“Recent—wait, are they talking about last night?”
Kayn frowned. “Your show? Why would they be?”
“Because the ain’t-shit rent-a-cop from the venue submitted the security footage to one of those stupid clickbait accounts and it took the internet like half an hour to ID it. We’ve been getting tagged about it, but I didn’t even think about you or I would’ve texted.”
Security footage?
The heckler.
The bar fight.
The pair of them front and center.
Kayn slumped back in bed, groaning. “I passed out as soon as I got in bed. I could’ve gotten out front of this.”
“Hey, I didn’t think anybody was gonna be able to ID you or I would’ve said.” Katarina hesitated for a second before admitting, “Gonna be real dude, I don’t think this was a sudden decision or they would’ve talked to you first. I think this was just an easy excuse.”
Kayn didn’t say anything. Kat sat with him in the silence.
Then, abruptly: “Well, y’know what? Up theirs. What kind of a band calls themselves ‘the Vandals’ and gets pissy about one bar fight? Which was justified, by the way.”
The strangeness of the statement did make Kayn snort sharply—then grab at his nose, wincing. “Good point.”
“You were literally even trying to stop the fight. They’re being the immature piss babies here, not you. Screw ‘em. You could do better.”
The sneering certainty with which Katarina spoke was almost enough to make Kayn crack a smile. Almost. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m literally always right.”
“What abou—”
“Literally always,” she insisted. “C’mon, man. Pull your big boy pants on. They wanna talk a big talk and then flinch off the walk? That’s poser shit. Trust me, you’re better off. Now say it.”
A begrudging smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth despite himself. “…I’m better off.”
“Attaboy. Get you some non-posers and do the damn rockstar thing right this time.”
He scoffed. “…Maybe I will. Hey, you aren’t—?”
“Absolutely not. I’ve got my own problems. In fact, I’m going back to sleep. Never call me at this hour again.”
Kayn barked out a laugh to the dial-tone. That was typical. Katarina didn’t do sappy.
Still.
Get you some non-posers and do the damn thing.
Maybe I will.