sunsets // m.c [DISCONTINUED]

chapter 15

"Mitchel, where the hell did you run off to?"

The braided boy turned around to face Christian, his best friend and band mate. He didn't look too happy with the older boy's actions. Mitchel scratched the back of his head and scrunched up his nose.

"I was just," Mitchel looked around the room, humming as he thought of what to use as an excuse. He sighed when he gave up, going with, what he would call, a lame one. "I was out."

"Well, no shit, dumbass," he snapped back. The younger boy was a little upset because Mitchel decided to run off in the middle of recording. Everyone almost decided to cancel, but instead, they decided to wait for the lead singer.

"Jesus, Kras," Mitchel furrowed his eyebrows, taken back by the sudden outburst that the younger boy let out on him. "Chill. I'm here now."

"What have you been up to, man?" Christian asked, calming down a little bit. "You know we have a deadline for this song. We need to get it done before shit goes extremely wrong."

"I know, I know," the braided boy sighed, hanging his head. He realized he's been slacking on his music lately, making his heart drop slightly. He didn't want to let the fans, his band mates, and himself down. "I'm sorry. I'll stop slacking."

"Keep that promise," the other boy said sternly. They both began to make their way where the rest of the band was.

"Ah, look at that," Clinton said with a laugh, looking up as soon as he heard the door creak open. "Mr. I-Run-Off-When-I-Want is here."

"Okay, I get it," Mitchel said in annoyance. "I know I left. Give me a break." The braided boy plopped himself next to Jesse, the drummer of the band. He rested his head on the palm of his hand, waiting for the others to begin telling him what he had to get done.

"Mitchel, we need you to get in that booth and finish the bridge," Clinton said, spinning a pencil in between his fingers. Sighing, his younger brother pushed himself off the leather couch and dragged his feet toward the booth. He stood there, his shoulders dropped slightly as he looked at the paper in front of him. Grabbing the pair of headphones, he put them on, leaving one ear uncovered to hear his own voice. Once the music began to start, Mitchel took a deep breath.

Throw another stone at the glass house
He might kick my ass if he finds out
I don't wanna share,
It's a damn shame
I'll still play it fair,
Won't drop no names

Flood it like the water hit the floor, run it
Open up your soul a little more, flood it
Ride that fuckin' wave into the shore, ride it
The beach is like a meter from the bed, slide it

The music came to a stop before the next chorus began, and Mitchel looked at his band mates, sighing softly. He quickly took the headphones off, making his way out of the booth.

"Nice one," Clinton said, nodding his head in approval. "We should be done with this song by tomorrow, then we can submit it."

"Hell yeah," Jesse said, standing up to stretch.

"See, Christian?" Mitchel said, looking directly at the younger boy. "Still got the job done, son." He laughed, causing Christian to roll his eyes.

"Barely," he said, in response to the braided boy. "Don't give yourself too much credit."

"Anyone got plans tonight?" Pat, another guitarist of the band, said, looking around the room. Everyone shook their heads, except Mitchel. He remained still, deciding it would depend on what Pat says whether or not he leaves the house. They all focused their attention on the bearded man. "You guys wanna go out to eat?"