Chapter 1
most people would think he was simply insecure but he simply preferred the quiet corner he was in, leaning to the dark wall and watching the band from the gaps between people and equipment, than to be on the stage with hundreds and thousands eyes set on him, hundred and thousands camera recording his every move.
he felt the presence of someone else a moment before he could hear him:” So, what do you think?” It’s quite easy to be blinded by the stage lights, but as appealing as it seemed at one or two glances, Remus lupin wasn’t one for spotlight; he preferred to be a puppet master than the flashy puppets. As long as it was his words, he didn’t really care about who said them; they didn’t have to see and know him to hear him.
He averted his gaze from the messy haired singer and looked at the man next to him, with bright eyes and flushed face and a small smile creeped on his lips.
“You know, it wasn’t really necessary for you to drag me here, a YouTube search would suffice” his gaze found its way back to stage. “They aren’t exactly underground.”
Frank leans against the wall:” yeah, yeah, but I wanted you to see them live before you rejected me. Just making it a bit hard for you.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Didn’t think you were against a free concert though.”
“Oh, I’m not. Just against the idea of being dragged across the country to see a few sweaty side profiles.”
“Poor you… so?”
“They’re ok I suppose.”
Frank couldn’t help but smile; he didn’t need to say anything else, Remus was already on board and if bumping him with his shoulder was pushing it, he didn’t care.
*******
Sirius Black was made for the spotlight; to be seen and adored, at least this was what he told himself. And when you have people affirming these delusions and adding to it… who’s ego won’t grow to be its own person?
So, it’s safe to say he wasn’t on board with the ‘New songwriter’ plan.
He dropped himself on the old, dirty blue couch: “Do we really need a new songwriter?”
James replied in a monotone, practiced, voice:” Yes.”
This wasn’t the first time this exact question, with the same tone and fain of annoyance has been asked, not the second, or third, or….
Sirius was well aware that he was being childish, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“We are doing well though” he whined, and his head hit the back of the couch with a thud.
Without looking up or stopping his fiddling with the red guitar in his hand, James said:” we’ve been doing well but we aren’t playing in middle of nowhere bars anymore pads. Believe me we can do better.”
“Can’t we...”
“No, we can’t.” James cut him off.
He looked up and took in the sight of his old friend sprawled on the couch; as much as he tried to seem nonchalance, every cell of his body screamed agitation.
“Neither of us have a way with words, pads.”
Sirus picked his head up barely too look at his old friend: “Have a way with words? Have you been reading behind my back?”
“Hey! I read” his brows knotted in a performance of anger.
“Not books.”
James picked himself up from the ground and sat next to his friend and spoke in a softer voice, a voice he was well aware he couldn’t say no to: “Just give him a chance. He’s good, and don’t even try to deny it, I know what you listen to.”
“…Fine.”