Chapter Text
DEMO 01 — Hallway Crush
Written / Produced by: K. Kogane
Inspiration: [REDACTED]
Notes: He’s so cute, I wanna know his name so
—
Knock. Knock.
“Keith?”
“Yeah?”
The wooden studio door, currently labeled as ‘occupied’, creaked open, revealing a messily-organized, cramped space where Keith Kogane sat criss-crossed in the centre of it all, his blindingly bright-red guitar in hand. Allura Altea, the girl fortunate enough to walk into this mess, sighed deeply, leaning against the wooden door frame as she eyed the man sat in front of her disappointedly.
“It’s only been a few weeks of school and you’re already crammed up in here — Shiro was right.”
“Allura.” Keith whined, rolling his eyes at the mention of his older brother. “Let me live a little. It’s the first time I’ve had a proper studio anyway.”
Allura sighed once again in an exaggerated way, shuffling into the crammed space just enough to close the door and sit against it, the two’s criss-crossed legs touching from the lack of space in the small recording studio.
Keith was a contemporary production and songwriter major, and knew he wanted to be one ever since he was merely ten years old. His older brother, Takashi Shirogane, had graduated from ATLAS college the previous year, and had strongly recommended Keith go considering the college specialized in arts and sciences. Allura, Keith’s childhood friend, had easily been persuaded to attend by the older as well, being immediately sold by the time the words: ‘they have a great pharmaceutical program’ had left Shiro’s mouth.
Keith, however, was more reluctant, wanting to attend a school that specialized in music specifically, and not just ‘arts’ as a whole; but after Shiro had reasoned the second-floor in the music building housed dozens of small recording studios for student usage — for free — Keith was immediately sold and applied too.
Which is exactly how the two were now sitting in one of the said recording studios, disappointment written on Allura’s face as she recalled the amount of times he had been in here that week alone. How many? She lost count; but rest not assured, it was more than one could count on both hands — which, to be fair, Shiro had warned her about Keith’s tendency to zone out for hours at a time when it came to production and songwriting.
“The studios are free to use at any time, Keith. You’ve been in here for hours, give it a rest.”
“I took a nap not even half an hour ago.” Keith argued, glaring slightly at the tone Allura carried in her voice. It was one he was all too familiar with — the older ‘caring’ tone that Shiro had used on him several times in the past when he still referred to Keith as his ‘baby brother’.
“And where exactly did you take this ‘nap’?” Allura questioned in an accusatory tone, not a single ounce of trust laced in her tone as she eyed him in disbelief. Keith wasn’t one to just let sleep of all things overtake his flow, and both her and Shiro were convinced the latter had developed some sort of insomnia due to his passion.
“Literally right there, Allura.” Keith scoffed, throwing thumbed-up hand over his shoulder, pointing at a small, red, velvet couch that sat against the far wall of the crowded studio. The length of that thing was definitely not enough for Keith to fully stretch out and sleep on.
“Couches exist for a reason.” He further sassed, rolling his eyes as if the girl’s concerned questions were nothing more than obvious and non-rhetorical.
She sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping as she began realizing the years she spent growing up with the boy could never prepare her for the amount of work it took to deal with him — always so stubborn.
“Did you at least eat?”
Allura mentally prepared herself for the most sheepish and non-apologetic ‘no’ she’d ever hear in her lifetime. Keith wasn’t the type to eat when he had a good idea for a song and was ‘locked in’ — never was, and never would be.
So, her immediate surprise wasn’t at all unimaginable as she witnessed Keith’s eyes go from bored and unbothered, to completely bright and sparkly, beaming with something she’d never thought would ever leave his mouth — a rant.
“I did eat, actually,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes lightly before a subtle smile crept onto his face, Keith unable to hold it back as he continued speaking,” and you know what? When I was on my way to the cafeteria to grab a coffee and some lunch, I passed by this gorgeous guy in the hallway — brown hair, the prettiest brown eyes, and this blue jacket. So naturally, I came right back to write a song on him.”
“Is that what this is about?” Allura deadpanned, shifting her gaze around the room. There were wires everywhere — some connecting to a microphone, others connecting to an aux — a pile of papers that got knocked over and were now scattered everywhere, and Keith’s laptop that sat opened in front of both of them, a low battery notification popping up.
She reached in front of her, picking up the first paper that caught her attention — one sitting lonely in front of Keith’s lap on the floor. Scanning it over, she made out what was lyrics written messily in Keith’s rushed handwriting — phrases that obviously related to the colour blue in a metaphorical sense.
Keith grumbled at the fact that Allura was touching his stuff, but after years of knowing each other, knew better than to protest or snatch it back. Instead, he opted to going back on his laptop, clicking away the low battery notification to reveal the song’s demo he had just finished recording the raw vocals for — the guitar’s backtrack was next.
“Seriously?” Allura gave the lyric sheet back to Keith, before he tossed it onto the ground in front of him, not needing it for reference anymore.
“What? That cute guy deserves more than just one song written about him.”
“I didn’t even know ‘love at first sight’ was possible.”
“Anything is possible when you’re the cutie in blue.”
Allura shoved him lightly in a teasing manner, causing Keith to shoot daggers at her. It was her non-verbal way of telling him he was being ridiculous, and it was her more physical way of knocking some proper sense into him and the delusion out.
The slight movement of Keith being shoved to the side and away from blocking his laptop screen revealed the words displayed on it, causing Allura to nearly burst out in laughter from the demo’s name and notes.
“Inspiration redacted? Hallway crush? You’re funny.” She snickered, making Keith go red in slight embarrassment as he rushed to slam his laptop shut.
“Oh, come on! I’ll fill his name in and stuff when I figure it out.”
Allura chuckled a little harder, before stopping immediately when the memory of the reason she had come to find Keith in the first place resurfaced.
“Oh, right! I was supposed to ask you,” she trailed off, and Keith could tell right away from her half-grimaced, half-amused expression that her question wasn’t going to mean any good, “are you busy tonight?”
“No…?” He replied skeptically, eyeing the other with nothing less than pure suspicion.
“Great! I’m on the leadership committee for tonight’s freshman welcome party, and we’re short one performer since one of them bailed last minute, would you be willing to — ”
“No.”
“What the hell, Keith? I didn’t even finish yet!” She argued, annoyed, scowling at the immediate rejection.
“Why would I do that? What’s in it for me?” He shot back, disliking the idea of singing his original r&b songs at such a public event — one the majority of the freshmen this year would be attending.
“One, because you’re a freshman, and two, because I’m asking?”
“Terrible reasons; gotta do better than that, ‘Llura.”
Allura groaned, rolling his eyes in disappointment as she thought anything music-related would immediately have the other on board — apparently not.
“Come on, Keith! I’ll do anything! I literally promised the committee I’d find a replacement by tonight — the welcome party is tonight!”
“No. And that’s not my fault you promised the impossible!”
“What if I bought you that red bass you were eyeing? Wouldn’t it be great to have matching guitars and basses?” She pleaded.
Keith paused at that proposition, genuinely thinking about it deeply. He had been wanting that bass for quite a while; but being the broke college student he is, fending against tuition, he hadn’t had the funds to buy it, yet.
Allura, however, was running on a half-paid scholarship and a butt-load of money from her adventurous uncle, Coran, so affording a couple-hundred-dollar bass was not the slightest problem for her.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but you owe me that bass!”
“Thank you, Keith!” Allura breathed out a sigh of relief, practically latching onto him in a tight, platonic hug. “Thank you, thank you!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, using all his force to detach her and push the other off. “Now shoo!”
He gestured the back of his palm rapidly in a shoo-ing motion, uncrossing his legs to practically kick Allura towards the door when she didn’t move immediately.
Allura reluctantly got up in a laughing fit, raising her hands in defense as if to tell Keith to stop kicking her. Eventually she opened the door, quickly slipping behind it, using it as a shield from the latter’s attacks.
“I’ll come back to get you later; you better not forget!”
“How could I? It’s my performance!”
—
“Hunk, hurry up!”
“I’m packing as fast as I can!”
Lance McClain grumbled, fighting the ever-growing stronger urge to smack the absolute shit out of his best friend, Hunk Garrett — who was currently packing up his notes and stationary at the pace of a snail.
The two had just finished their last lecture of the day — a grueling physics lecture from none other than the lowest rated professor, Professor Zarkon, on ‘rate my professor’. Suffering through the three hour class was bad enough, and Lance wanted nothing more than to get out of there immediately if it hadn’t been for Hunk’s slow packing.
Lance and Hunk had been friends ever since freshman year in high school, but even then, Lance could never get used to how slow Hunk’s OCD and perfectionism made him.
Another reason for Lance’s immense irritation was ATLAS college’s famous freshman welcome party — one the leadership committee managed to outdo every single year. It was brought up briefly during the welcome ceremony, and after some research done by the two’s other friend, Pidge Holt, they had apparently discovered it was a must-do thing in freshman year, and Lance absolutely refused to be late to it because of Hunk’s slow packing.
The class was mandatory for Lance as a physics major, but optional for Hunk as an engineering major — yet, he took it regardless out of passion and much persuasion from Lance — and the only time for it first semester happened to be later in the afternoon, meaning it was currently well past 5:45PM when the welcome party started across campus at 6:00PM.
“Well try faster!” Lance scrambled to say, unable to come up with a better form of encouragement. “Apparently they’re doing performances right at six — on the dot! Pidge promised to save us a spot in the crowd but — ”
“I’m done! Geez.” Hunk announced loudly, cutting Lance off. If it hadn’t been for the empty lecture hall, he might have shushed the former up from second-hand embarrassment.
Hunk slung his backpack over his left shoulder, putting his right arm through the other strap and adjusting the bag to a more comfortable level. Lance let out a mixture of a huff and a relieved sigh, already moving down the steps from the elevated seats and towards the open door.
“Finally! You better be able to run, my guy, ‘cause we’re sprinting over to the auditorium.”
“Are you serious!”
—
The two barely made it in the nick of time, creaking the already-closed doors of the auditorium and heading inside. A portable stage was set up, and a bath of students flooded the floor, surrounding said stage as close as it would let them. The lights had been turned off, leaving the room in darkness except for a few dimmed lights angled to highlight the stage.
Hunk looked around, turning his head from side to side rapidly as the two walked closer to the crowd. Lance could almost count hundreds of heads on the floor.
“This is crazy. How are we going to find Pidge? She’s, like, a midget!”
“Don’t let her hear you say that.” Hunk hissed, already shivering slightly as he imagined how aggressive that ‘midget’ would be if she overheard Lance make fun of her short height. “Do you think she’d even be able to save us a ‘spot’ in this crowd?”
“She better have!” Lance declared in false anger. “She promised, and if she didn’t,” he paused, clearing his throat as he forced a terrible French accent, “off with her head!”
Hunk snickered at that.
The two reached the end of the crowd, mumbling quiet ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s as they made their way through in hopes of finding their third. By some miracle, they spotted Pidge near the front-centre, rushing towards her side.
“Boo!” Lance exclaimed, putting his two palms on her shoulders as he crouched down to whisper in her ear.
Pidge flinched, and her fist instinctively went to punch Lance in the face — lightly, at least.
“Oww!” He whined, grabbing his nose in exaggerated pain. “That hurt, Pidge.”
“That’s what you get for sneaking up on me!” She retorted, grumbling slightly. “What took you guys so long? They already made the welcoming announcement and performances should start any minute now.”
“Hunk was packing up slowly, as per usual.” Lance replied matter-of-factly, and if it weren’t for Pidge standing in between the two, Lance’s face might’ve met some more damage that night.
“What matters is we’re here now right?” Hunk chuckled awkwardly, softening up Pidge’s originally pissed-off expression.
“I guess — ”
Just then, the dimmed lights angled towards the stage brightened slightly, as the first performer stepped onto the stage from the back. The crowd immediately settled down, all talking coming to a stop as the freshmen gathered in the auditorium fixated their focus onto the performer.
Lance looked the performer up and down, noting down every little detail of his. He had black, luscious hair — slightly longer in the back as the back strands wrapped neatly against his perfectly pale neck skin. The style looked awfully like a mullet — which was quite outdated nowadays, but the guy somehow pulled it off more than perfectly.
He wore a simple outfit: black-ish-gray washed out and ripped jeans, and an oversized black t-shirt. He was sweating slightly from the stuffy crowd, and god that made his hair and shirt cling to him ever-so-slightly in a hot way.
Around his neck hung his guitar — a bright-red guitar that contrasted his all-black outfit extremely well. Lance couldn’t help but think the colour red suited the guy extremely well.
The down-bad-ism only went more downhill from there, as the guy opened his mouth to sing the first verse of the song. Hell, Lance was too zoned-out admiring him to even notice the back track beginning to play.
“What’s your intentions, baby?”
Pidge stole a glance over at Lance, realizing by the expression on his face that she had completely, and utterly, lost her friend entirely. After nudging Hunk to look at the rare look on Lance’s face, the latter in question finally spoke up.
“Holy shit, I think I’m in love.”
“Lance, he’s been on stage for one minute.”
“A very charming minute!”
“You’re unbelievable.” Hunk shook his head, and while Pidge was about to make a smart remark back, Lance immediately shushed the two without so much as to glance in their direction, eyes way too fixed on the performer in red.
“Lately, I feel like I’m too attached, we’re stuck in the moment,”
Lance stared in awe, wanting to enjoy every last drop of his angelic voice before the performance’s end. All other noise subconsciously faded into the background, and for a moment, Lance genuinely felt like he and the mysterious guy were the only people in the room.
“Not thinking ‘bout how we move too fast, but I kinda like it this way,”
He stared into his eyes — deep, violet eyes that glimmered under the stage lights. Their eyes met, the performer holding his gaze as he continued to sing into the microphone, strumming his guitar slower as the end of the song came to a close.
“Who gives a fuck what they say? It’s you and me right now, baby.”
The crowd erupted in cheers and claps, Lance’s hearing sense slowly returning as the realization the performance was over reached him. The performer’s gaze snapped away, thanking the crowd briefly before walking backstage, a blonde woman overtaking him to continue the night. Lance’s heart dropped, wishing he had savoured the single-song performance more than he already had. He missed the red performer already.
“Thank you for that amazing performance.” She announced and the crowd clapped again. “Next up, we have — ”
“Oh. My. God.”
—
LANCE & FRIENDS — 11:38PM
Lance: GUYS
Lance: GUYS
Pidge: WHAT??
Lance: i found his instagram
Pidge: wtf is wrong w u
Hunk: what’s his name??
Lance: keith kogane, my future bf!