When The Music Stops

Can You Spot The Marauder?

April 7th

If asked to describe himself, James would use the words optimistic, brave, and kind. Sure, his mother would probably throw in mischief maker were she there, and his father might add, loudly and proudly, good-looking, but James prided himself on the first three. They were his weapons against pain, suffering, sadness, anything that could hurt him, his shield.

He wielded words and smiles like swords, fighting every battle with a laugh or a broad smile. Never had he met an opponent that was immune;

Until he joined Regulus's band.

James played his drums with passion, head swinging in time with the music. When he was playing, everything fell away. Nothing mattered except the next note, the next, the one after that. All of his thoughts were music notes, bouncing around in his head like a child on a dancefloor.

"Stop!" Regulus yelled over the music. He turned to face them and frowned. "That didn't sound right."

The one with dark brown hair and a wolf's smile—Barty, James remembered—snorted. "It was fine, mate."

Regulus huffed and turned a glare that was rather attractive on him.

"It was not. Am I the only one with ears?" He spat, throwing up his hands.

James chuckled. Regulus, he had learned over the course of the past two practices, was something of a drama king. It wasn't often that he'd say something that wasn't a one-word answer or a snarky comment, but when he did, it was always dramatic. James had to admit, it made him pay attention to Regulus, the way he never knew what was going to come out of his mouth, the way he sang, the way he—

James frowned slightly and told himself he was not a fangirl, he was not attracted to the lead singer, he was not going to crush on him. It would be preposterous, unimaginable, unprofessional, and he was none of those things.

Okay, maybe he was a little preposterous at times, but he wasn't going to crush on his bandmate. It was just a bad idea altogether.

"Reg, you're overreacting again," Evan said. James could hear the eye roll in his tone. "Let's just play it again and see if it sounds right, yeah?"

Regulus paused, eyes lifting to above their heads for a second before he nodded. "Fine. From the top.  And uh 1, uh 2, uh 1 2 3 4—" 

After the song was over, everyone looked expectantly at Regulus. He turned around and nodded to them. "That's what it's supposed to sound like. Everyone got it?"

James nodded, grinning. He always felt more alive after playing, more energized. As if a lightning bolt had shot right through him, leaving behind crackling energy.

They played for two more hours before Regulus finally called it. When he did, James set his sticks down and stood.

"Do ya'll wanna get drinks?" He asked. His eyes found Regulus and stayed there. "I know a great bar."

Barty let out an approving hollar before saying, "Hell yeah. I haven't been drinking in forever. Evan, you coming?"

Evan grinned and nodded his head. "You better believe it. Let's get fucked up!"

James grinned at them, excitement tightening in his chest. He hadn't been drinking with friends in forever, and he'd been missing it. Not that he was an alcoholic—he usually didn't drink—but he wanted to bond with the band members, wanted to get to know them, actually become friends with them. That was one of the biggest reasons why he wanted to be in a band; the friendship it created.