The school talent show ended with a blast, they rest in the makeshift break room, abound with lively chatters and bubbling with laughs. The wall is a canvas white with a small uneven surface, like a rocky sandpaper with more thick and swollen bumps. Jirou leans against it, Bakugou drinks from his metal water bottle quietly as she tries to stir up conversation.
'You were great out there,' she praises, but it does nothing to really fix the attention to her, then, 'what type of music do you listen to?'
'I don't actually fucking listen to music,' Bakugou finally says, eyes hooding as if to scold Jirou. Jirou raises a brow then forces down a grimace.
'But you know how to play the drums?' She tries, hoping to find somewhere to relate to the blond.
'Yeah and!?'
'And you play the drums like really well, well enough to enter a band or something. You have to like... like a band or something.'
'Oi! Why is it any of your fucking business anyways?'
'No reason, just curiosity.'
Silence, then, 'Training music isn't terrible I guess...'
Had the beats out there mellowed him down? Jirou looks at him with an acknowledging glance, 'Do you have any favourite artists or something then?'
Bakugou returns an inspective stare, then staring around the room furtively, as if to make sure nobody was listening or something. 'Panic! At The Disco'n'grandson.' He's frowning as he said it, as if he's about to spit out vitriol.
'Oh, really? Panic! At The Disco is super cool.'
'...Yeah, fucking know that already.'
'I'm guessing your favourite At the disco song is like... Emperor's New Clothes?'
Bakugou scoffed, 'Close. House of Memories. Emperor's New Clothes is in second fuckin place.'
'Oh.'
'M fucking joking, Build God Then we'll talk's the best. House of Memories' a sometimes song.'
'Are you joking? The difference of Martydom —'
'And suicide is the—'
'Press coverage,' they say in unison. It causes Jirou to giggle. What caused Bakugou to mellow down all of a sudden? Well... he's been a lot more transfixed with himself lately.
It's odd. But she doesn't question it out loud.
'Don't do that!' Bakugou snaps.
Jirou plays dumb, simply raising an eyebrow, before letting a telltale grin rip through her face.
Bakugou simply rolls his eyes.
'Build God, Then We'll Talk is decent I guess.'
'Don't diss my fucking music!'
.
.
.
Then things just moved. Hobbled around, Jirou and Bakugou discussed songs for a while, and switched between things. Drama between famous bands, cryptic song lyrics, views on music companies, and rising singers and whether they deserved the fame or not.
Things changed, and on a Friday, right after class, they seat themselves against the wall besides the door. Right at the entrance of Jirou's dorm to talk.
'Are you joking? She can't sing for crap!' Jirou leans into the screen, eyes wide as she hears the cracked voice play through the device's speakers.
'Exactly, but that's why people fucking love her,' Bakugou's arm crosses, and he rolls his eyes, 'some artistic bullshit about her being imperfect.'
Jirou snorts, 'Please—you're kidding! She literally had eight voice cracks in a word with three syllables, wait let me replay that...'
'Is she doing it on purpose?'
'I have no idea. . . And oh my god, Yup, she's definitely a one-hit wonder.'
'People are gonna listen to her once and run the fuck away.'
'All while saying they like her.'
'Wait, go to her videos.'
'Um, okay,' she minimizes the current one that's playing, letting the singer's broken voice etch the air around them. Tapping on her channel, she visits the list of uploads.
'Oh my fucking god, look at the views on the latest one and compare.'
'Their completely depleting.'
'No shit.'
'We guessed it.'
'Obviously.'
'Want to check her channel like a week or a month from now?'
'She'd probably have passed away from the internet by then.'
'Yeah, that's why, just want to check the number of views.'
'...Wait, fucking heard she's getting signed with a big label so it might not be that bad-'
'What the hell, really?!'
'Mhm.'
'But... she doesn't- there's zero talent, I don't even get the like to dislike ratio on her videos! She has like forty dislikes and fifty k likes!'
'Her voice makes me want to punch glass.'
Jirou laughs. Call the two critical, but they didn't even leave a mean comment. Just passing through her channel like a ghost.
That doesn't stop them from shittalking.
Plus it's always fun to estimate how far it takes for new artists to end their careers.
.
.
.
How fun it takes for new artists to end their careers.
End. Their. Careers.
Jirou watches the girl, singing with her slightly broken voice, which has somehow gotten better, with a mid-range of views. Eying the name of her channel with glossy eyes, and suddenly shutting her phone off. This was so terrible. She felt her gut twist and coil in agony, her fingers press against the hard material of her device and she shuts her eyes. Devastated.
Weren't the two just joking barely two weeks ago?
Talking, chatting, laughing?
Sure, Bakugou looked a lot more care-free lately, but that was because he trusted her. That was because he trusted her. Jirou had the audacity to believe she had been strong enough to lift a burden off of his head or something. Unburdened him even!
What was she thinking?
Doesn't he realize how selfish it was?
Obviously, Jirou enjoyed his company. Obviously she liked having him around! Obviously, obviously, obviously...
The one thing he kept on her letter.
The stupid thing he kept.
THAT DUMB THING SHE JUST—
There's a Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought of It Yet.
Sorry. You're a good person.
That was all he wrote for her.
It's so terrible.
Fuck.
It's the title of a Panic! At the Disco song.
And if just so happens to be one Jirou said she didn't really understand.
But she's been digging through the lyrics on Genius.
Finding everything.
And stopping at that one word of nitroglycerin.
A chemical Bakugou just happens to sweat.
Was he saying that he hurt people or something?
Was he calling this whole game a masquerade?
Joking about how he must have caught her by surprise?
"I'm the new cancer"
It sounded so cocky as well.
Why did it have to remind her of Bakugou so much.
Jirou holds the phone again.
Soon clicking it back to life and moving her thumb to swipe to the song.
Spotify opens and she lets it play out.
Please, leave all over coats, canes and top hats with the doorman . . .
Words: 1113
Panic! At The Disco's older songs deserve so much more hype-
Also- I feel like I rushed this chapter.
Sorry, I realized I hadn't uploaded in a while and uh
Don't forget to vote-
Your comments motivate me a lot lol.