Only Of You || Trillie

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Music.

That was Tré's biggest passion, probably. It was what he lived and breathed. He did whatever he could to get his hands on a drum set and jam away until his arms went numb. It calmed him the most. It drowned out his problems and calmed him down if he needed it. He didn't need friends, he needed his music and his drumming. He just couldn't help but feel as if there should be more to his life than this, more to his life that walking around with nowhere to stay, seeming he was currently without a home and just slept on floors that belonged to people he knew (or didn't know), he didn't have a job or anything like that so he wandered without a purpose most of his days and it didn't really get him anywhere fast.

As a high school dropout, college wasn't an option for Tré but it wasn't like he cared to go anyway. He didn't want to study anything anyway, everything seemed so boring to the point where he couldn't find a passion. He couldn't find a single thing he wanted to do as much as he wanted to drum. His parents didn't care as long as he was safe and took care of himself but considering the fact that his priorities were drumming and weed he wasn't necessarily doing either of those.

He happened to be walking along the side of the road aimlessly, with his drums, wondering what the day would bring him today. Unfortunately for him it was uncomfortable and hot and he didn't have a car so walking in direct sunlight was probably the last thing he'd like to be doing, but he didn't have much of a choice considering his circumstances so he just dealt with it. All he could think about was how he'd love to be laying in a hotel room with a fan running on his sweating body so maybe he could cool down a bit.

A car pulled up to him. Great, just what he needed, someone to harass him and probably comment on his situation. Fortunately for him, the people in the car looked like morons as well so he was guessing they were probably stupid out of their minds and just wondering what this guy was going walking (more like stumbling) on the side of the road with some drums and, surprisingly, nothing else worth noting.

"What the fuck are you doing?" One of the dumbasses asked him from inside the car, the one in the passengers side. Tré just shrugged and looked around wondering if they were really talking to him.

"Me?"

The driver stared blankly at the drummer, trying to process what he just said. "What?"

"I'm walking."

"Yeah no shit. Where you headed? Are you in a hurry?"

"Do I look like it?"

The curly haired one looked stoned off his ass so it appeared as if he was done talking. The driver looked like a cross between an old man and a 20 year old, but Tré couldn't be sure.

"We need a drummer," the passenger spoke up, visibly high.

"Cool."

Tré took the cue to get in the back of the car which he would've been absolutely thrilled to do, however the car was hotter than a fucking sauna and he was wondering how the fuck these two were still alive. He set his few belongings down on the floor of the car and shut the door, looking around.

There was trash on the floor, the car looked like hell, but hey, he didn't expect much from two men that looked like they did, but he would probably be the same way if he actually owned a vehicle. He was just glad to be off his feet and maybe have a place to stay for a few days.