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Harris never cared for his birthdays. Being a twin, all of his birthdays were shared with his sister, Heather. Heather had always been the more ‘high maintenance’ of the two, making a fuss if things didn’t go her way and generally being very picky with how she wanted things. That led to the situation Harris has found himself stuck in since he was about six years old and Heather had decided that she wanted an all pink theme for their birthday instead of the split theme their parents usually went with. He hadn't found it in him to fight it then, and he had long since grown used to it now. He knew he wasn't supposed to like pink, being a boy and all, but he truly didn't mind it enough to fuss at her. Heather picked the theme, the guests, the music, and anything else that needed deciding, and Harris sat back and watched it take form.
Sometimes, he didn't even show up to his own birthday. Now, he couldn't get away with it often, but when he was about thirteen he came to realize that with Heather making the party all about herself, most people completely forgot that it was a shared birthday. This meant that he was free to do whatever he wished, as long as his parents weren't reminded of his existence for long enough to wonder where he was. Unfortunately, he got too complacent too quickly, using this trick to skip out on other family events he didn't care for, and accidentally drawing attention to himself all the more. Now, on the evening of his sixteenth birthday, he was stuck sitting on the sidelines while his sisters mingled with their friends and his parents watched him out of the corners of their eyes to make sure he didn't bolt. What his parents hadn't noticed though, was when he snuck off earlier to smoke, giving himself a nice enough buzz to get through the party.
The party was, to put it simply, garish. Now that wasn't completely fair, since the only truly garish piece of decor was a huge ice sculpture of Heather’s head. That was garish. Fighting for second place was the huge portrait of Heather that was hung above the gift table. The rest of the party was alright for the most part, not that it made any difference. It was still wholeheartedly for Heather and Heather alone, whether Harris was present or not. There was one odd thing amongst the picture perfect staging and decorations, and that was the lack of music. A small group of guys were setting up instruments on a low stage, but they weren't the typical sort of musicians that Heather was prone to hiring. No, these guys were their age, and Harris got the sense that they were amateurs at best.
Harris didn't pay them too much attention while they set up, though. He was far too focused on finding a comfortable spot to sit and watch the goings on of the party, which so far was slow and admittedly, boring. His parents were mingling with the relatives that had shown up to celebrate Heather (a few of them did bring Harris a gift, which he appreciated) and Holly was standing with their parents. An odd thing he noticed was a scrawny kid lurking by some banners near the makeshift stage. Distantly, Harris recalled seeing the boy around the country club, but he never paid that much attention to individual people, nor did he spend that much actually at the country club himself.
“This song goes out to uh, a special little lady. Heather Hills, this one's for you.”
The lead singer for this performance spoke out to the crowd to dedicate the song to Heather, immediately catching Harris' attention. His voice was nice, and he wiggled out of a jacket to reveal a fairly simple tank top that showed off his shoulders. Christ, was he seriously noticing this guy's shoulders? That wasn't even his most attractive feature, not by a long-shot. No, infinitely more attractive than his shoulders was his hair and his eyes, which were lined with dark eyeliner to make them stand out. He was, unfortunately, the textbook example of Harris' type.
That's when they played the opening to a very familiar song. Harris' jaw dropped when Cute Singer Guy began to sing Justin Bieber's Baby. Because what the fuck. It didn't help that he was absolutely awful. He might have a nice speaking voice, but he couldn’t sing for shit. An awkward sort of confusion fell over the partygoers, and Harris wasn't exempt from it, but his confusion was quickly melting away into delight when he spotted the expression of pure rage on his twin's face. Heather looked ready to kill, and the guy on vocals only got more into the song.
Earlier that day, Mr. and Mrs. Hills had given their eldest children each their gifts for their sweet sixteen. Heather got a car— a cherry red mustang convertible, and Harris had gotten a new phone. The phone wasn't necessarily a bad gift on its own, after all it had all the newest camera technology and could take high definition videos and pictures, but compared to the brand new car Heather received, it felt a bit cheap. Now, Harris wasn't actually all that ungrateful for the phone, especially now that he was faced with the most wonderful sight of his life, and had the means to film it and film it well. And film it he did, regardless of the awful angle or the people blocking his view of the stage. As long as he had the audio, he would be happy.
Heather stood in front of the stage, absolutely livid as the guy sang to her, even changing the lyrics a bit. When it became obvious that she wasn't impressed, he turned and said something to his band, then shouted to the lurking kid, who must have done something because in the next moment the whole atmosphere changed. Dark banners fell, the lights flashed and dimmed, and the band kicked into gear. It was as fantastic as it was absolutely horrifying to witness. The new beat was exhilarating, and for one terrible moment, Harris thought he would like a full cover of the song in that style.
The singer hopped off the stage, putting his whole heart into his performance. The band itself wasn't half bad either, especially with what was surely a spur of the moment set. It was like watching some exotic bird's very strange mating dance in a way, and Harris couldn't help but feel like it was wasted. The singer guy continued his dramatic display by knocking into the ice sculpture of Heather’s head, pushing it over. It looked like it finally dawned on him that he was making an ass of himself, his eyes wide as he stared at an absolutely livid Heather Hills.
“No, no! I'm going to kill you!” She screeched, grabbing a discarded microphone stand and taking a swing at the poor guy, who only barely managed to duck out of the way. While she didn't succeed in hitting him, she did hit the chocolate fountain that had been set out, knocking it over and splattering chocolate everywhere. Harris nearly dropped his phone from how hard he was laughing, but he managed to keep filming, even if the footage was no doubt shaky. Some of the guests were fleeing the crowded tent, making the wise decision to avoid the chaos that was taking place.
Heather seethed, covered in chocolate, but the singer guy was determined to make an impression because he tried to help her, or maybe he was just trying to get her attention, it was hard to tell with the shitty angle. Whatever he did sent them both sprawling into the chocolate that had pooled on the floor, laid out flat on their backs. Harris stood, both to get the overhead angle and so he could make sure his sister wasn't actually hurt too badly.
“Heather, you're a pretty cool chick… so I dunno, maybe I could call you next week and we could hang?” Cute Singer Guy asked, his voice pitching up at the end of his question awkwardly. Harris ended the recording there and shoved his phone in his pocket– his amusement was immediately sapped away by this guy's continued attempts to hit on his twin. The excitement around the disastrous performance had already begun to dissipate, so Harris took that as his cue to bail. His parents were too busy doing damage control to notice, so he slipped out the back where the band was hurriedly packing up. Before he left, he spotted Holly talking to that scrawny kid from before, and smiled to himself. At least one of his sisters was having a good time despite it all.
Harris didn't exchange words with anyone as he stood off to the side, pulling a silver cigarette case from his pocket and lighting up the half finished blunt inside. For a while, he just watched the band pack up, making sure that the name of the band (which was painted on the side of a white van parked outside, as well as on half of the banners inside) was permanently committed to his memory. Löded Diper. It was probably a shitty garage band at best, but now it was also the band responsible for creating what was probably the best birthday memory of Harris's life. He still thought it was a real shame that it only happened because some (cute) dumbass wanted to hit on his sister. Heather really gets everything, doesn't she?