Freedom

01. Favorite Guitarist

Anyone knew that when the boys were noisy in the cafeteria, they had started the gamble. No one knows what the gamble is about and for what, as long as they enjoy it together they will not care what impact they receive. That afternoon, a bunch of baseball clubs were hooting, calling out a name who was sipping a drink. While a bunch of kids who don't know which club are also calling for their heroes who are sipping their drinks.

No one can guess for sure what kind of drink it is. However, Tom, a teenager who wasn't from the baseball club, knew it felt very strange. Sour, bitter and slightly minty taste in it. He even swore that if it was the last time he would bet with the kids from the baseball club.

"Save it well, Tom," said his drinking partner while handing him a slightly thick brown envelope.

They hurriedly separated when they noticed the teacher coming to their table. Tom didn't even have time to thank his opponent, he was busy saving himself, running out of the cafeteria and through the halls and into the music class room.

"Bro, don't jump in suddenly. You're scaring me."

Tom laughed a little with a roaring breath when he realized who was speaking. The talking friend. His friend was tuning his guitar and strumming it a little when he entered. Tom stared outside for a moment, no one was chasing him anymore. He wiped his sweat then approached his best friend who had long hair with a little blonde dye underneath.

"You made another bet with the baseball kid?" His friend spoke again, now he was strumming his guitar, playing a song that Tom didn't know.

His best friend's name is Allan. He's not a quiet teenager, it's just that he himself is focused, as Tom said, to make a new song. He could not respond with sentences throughout the proclamation.

Allan nodded slowly. He took off his headphones and looked at Tom. "Our band will disband?"

Tom, who previously just grinned, now looked at Allan seriously. Unlike Allan who wants to get serious in the world of music, he and his two other friends only fill their free time. So they only do it when they feel like it, and if they don't, they don't really care about the name of the band they've built.

"You know, I might not be able to play anymore. Or the stupid duo won't either. Sorry, we can't grow with you."

Allan took a deep breath, then threw his friend with the paper he had previously found. "What's apologizing for, Dude? I'm not blaming anyone here. I can play solo. Take it easy."

The awkwardness that had just arrived didn't actually happen once or twice. Tom and the stupid duo couldn't blend into Allan's mind. They couldn't understand each other. therefore he also couldn't overcome the awkwardness that always existed between them.

The bell rings, break is over. Tom stood up from where he was and stared at Allan for a moment. "Then I'll go first."

Allan nodded slowly. "See you again."

That long haired boy took a deep breath. He packed his guitar again, put it in his bag, then went to the next class.

Actually, Allan also knew that his band members were never serious about him. They were all just playing around, wasting their time playing together. In fact their goal isn't like they want to work in the music world, they just want to find girls who do music and date them. Allan could not force his will. If he still forced those people to continue playing music with him, there would only be destruction before his eyes.

Spending time at school, doing assignments, talking to friends in class, maybe just an ordinary activity so that the people around them don't label them apathetic. Allan just went with the flow of life. So did when he met Tom. The teenager made many friends, so he thought that nothing bad would happen if Allan made friends with Tom.

"You alone? How about your band?"

Allan drank a can of cola he bought at a vending machine. He glanced at the tattooed woman manning the counter. She wasn't really that busy. He just stared at the records, serving customers, watching the time and checking the room. Being a music studio keeper was an easy job, she said, not including the cleaning part.

"We're breaking up. You hear a band needs a guitarist, Kyle?"

The woman named Kyle was silent for a moment. "I don't know, really. But hey there's a teenager like you who always rents a room alone every day. Maybe he also needs a band member, you can ask him."

"Really?"

Kyle nodded casually. "He usually comes in any minute. I'll ask him."

"Thank you, really!"

Allan doesn't care if the teenager is a boy or a girl, plays seriously or not, he just wants a group of people who want to play with him. Even if one day the band disbands again, Allan will try hard to play solo. He only hoped that he would not fail at the only talent he had mastered.

Two young men with slightly brownish black hair entered the building. Their height is only slightly different, around 180's. One of them had a lot of piercings and slightly curly hair. The other one is white like an Asian with curly eyelashes.

"Oh hi. Your room is in the usual place." Kyle made a sound. He gave a room key to a white-skinned teenager with curled eyelashes.

"Thank you, Kyle."

Kyle smiled broadly. "Oh, you need a band member? You know, my friend's band just broke up and is looking for a band that needs a guitarist or bassist, he can play both. Ah, if you're not looking that's fine, I'm just asking tho."

The curly-eyed teenager stared at his curly-haired friend. Smiles bloomed on their faces. "What a coincidence. We just started a band and needed drummer and guitarist positions."

"That's great! Right, Allan?"

Allan, who was drinking his coke, choked. Since earlier he had been listening to their conversation, but he didn't expect Kyle to call him face to face at that moment. He repeatedly swore in his heart, while standing up and approaching Kyle and the two teenagers earlier.

"This is Allan, my friend who told me earlier. So if you want to take it, I'll give you free use of the room for a week. How about it?" Kyle asked without the slightest hesitation as he said it.

As a result, he made a sharp glare from Allan appear. "You sold me for that, Kyle? Oh My God!"

"Hey, who's your favorite guitarist?" The curly-eyed teenager spoke. He didn't pay attention to the small fight between the studio keeper and the teenager in front of him.

Allan's focus changed, he stared at the teenager in front of him for a moment. "Jimi Hendrix."

Thoose teenager smiled broadly, then stretched out his hand. "Declan Mochito. My favorite guitarist Kurt Cobain."

The two teenagers shook hands. Allan could understand why the teenager smiled widely while declaring who his favorite guitarist was. I mean, they fit perfectly.