Chapter Text
June 18, 20XX, Saturday
The empty surroundings of Mark’s backyard say it all. Overgrown grass, cobwebs on the corner of the ceiling, the rough concrete, and the unfazed look on Mark’s face.
As Jett prepares his drumset, Eva walks over to Diana’s side on the couch, the two are having a conversation–God knows what they’re talking about. Mark looks at Damon, who’s silently trying to tune his guitar before losing it. “Fuck—why is it still flat?” he hears him murmur to himself.
He walks over to Jett, hunching over his large drums, and attempts to whisper, “I don’t know if I can do this.”
He jumps, startled. “Dude!” He expected to hear an earful of worthless static from Jett’s mouth, but he felt him hitting his shoulder instead.
“Why the hell not?!” He yells, keeping a tight grip on said shoulder he hit before.
He jumps backwards, almost like a scared cat. “I just—I just can’t!” he yells back.
“Dude,” he places his hand onto his shoulder, putting almost his whole body weight onto it. “You have to do this! We have an entire audience waiting just for you , bro!” he points to Diana, who’s on the couch in front of him, cheering enthusiastically.
He, of course, stares hopelessly into her eyes, his dull, worn-out eyebags telling the story.
“Ghhh..” he winces in embarrassment, lowering his head and turning away from her in shame.
“We don’t even have a setlist—this is our first time practicing together,” Mark reiterated, yet reminding his fellow bandmates why this is a bad idea. I mean, joining the local Battle of the Bands without deciding on a proper setlist—or even a band name?! This group is destined to fall apart.
“Dude, chill out,” Jett sighed, placing his hand on his bro’s shoulder. “We can just play... whatever. I can improvise the beat.”
“Ahem,” Eva coughed. “Our audience is still waiting on us…?” She pointed at Diana, who waved back cheerfully with a wide grin on her face.
“Let’s just play one of the songs Mark knows,” she said, carefully placing her bass over her body, carefully adjusting herself to the sudden weight of the guitar.
“What about Mundo? I know he’s been practicing that for a while,” she chuckles to herself, before turning her attention to Mark, awaiting his approval.
“Sure, I guess,” he replied, adjusting the strap on his green electric guitar. “Can you handle it?”
He turns to look at both Jett and Damon.
“Hell yeah!” Jett shouted enthusiastically, spinning his drumsticks with his gloved hand.
Damon nodded nonchalantly, making sure his body aligned with his guitar, like clockwork.
Mark suddenly turned his head to face their audience—Diana. Nervously holding the mic with his sweaty hands, he mumbled, “Um, this is—we don’t have a name yet, but, uh, hope you enjoy anyway.”
She smiled, clasping her hands together excitedly. “You got this, you guys!”
As soon as the song started, Mark’s backyard transformed into a whole new world. The silence was filled with the sounds of their guitars, harmonizing together as each lyric was sung from the heart. Their smiles, their guitars, their beats, their music, these were the things that brought them together.
Despite it being only in the middle of the afternoon, the yard was lit with such vibrant smiles, enough to rival the sunlight. Their passion was enough to paint the picture, a beautiful sunset, occupied by striking, varying shades of yellow, orange, pink, and red.
Mark, serving as the group’s lead guitarist, sang each line and plucked the strings of his guitar effortlessly. He continued to look at the floor while performing, but none of that mattered. He’s here now, performing exactly what his heart wants to.
“Mundo’y magiging ikaw.” / “You’ll become my world.”
As the song nears its final chorus, entering its bridge, one lyric continues to echo a certain lead guitarist’s sentiment,
“Hindi na maliligaw.” / “We’d never be lost again.”
There, his fellow bandmates stop. He finally plays the guitar solo he’s been practicing for weeks, nervously gazing at his guitar as his hands’ muscle memory guides him to the right fret, the right string, and the right moment.
Diana, Jett, Damon, and Eva look at him in amazement, appreciating his talent as they give him the spotlight. Soon after his solo, though, they continue. They continue to play the song that their lead treasures so dearly—the song they never expected to be that one thing to bring them together. Their song.
As soon as the song finally ends, Mark looks up to see where he is now. Surrounded by friends, beaming at him. He wipes the sweat from his forehead before continuing,
“.. Did I do well?” he asks with a strain in his voice. To which, his bandmates replied, “You did amazing!”
Diana gets up from the couch, hurriedly making her way to the group.
“See?” she laughs, carefully caressing his shoulder. “I told you you could do it.”
“You guys could make it big someday,” she continues, before bringing all of her friends closer together. “Who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll open for… what was the band’s name again? Ah, yes, IV of Spades!”
“Diana, they disbanded years ago.” Damon scoffed. “But yeah, whatever, you think so?”
“Mhm!” she replied, humming to herself. “Now come on, play some more!”
……
“Uh, Diana..” Mark croaked. “Thanks for coming to our practice today… even if we didn’t do much.”
“No problem! It’s my pleasure as yo—the band’s number one fan.” She laughed, bringing her finger to her lips. “You guys don’t have a band name yet?”
He paused, for a short moment, before continuing to walk. “No,” he replied, paying close attention to the concrete-filled street they were walking on. “But I’ve been thinking of some band names.”
“Whatever you’ll come up with, I’m sure it’ll be great,” she exclaimed. “I can’t wait for.. When was it again?”
She asked, turning her head toward Mark’s direction. The two of them stop walking for a bit. Diana takes in their surroundings, taking a deep breath before smiling at the moon above.
Mark, on the other hand, is met with the cold air of the street, silently counting the days before the horrifying, bone-chilling Battle of the Bands.
“...3 weeks from now.”