Chapter Text
Sound vibrated through the musky basement air like waves in a warm ocean. Dim light from lamps too old to replace shimmered through the dust as drinks were bought and seats were taken. Soles on concrete floors mimicked the beat of the drums onstage, where insignia with golden letters graced the front of the bass drum. A last strum on the guitar and the crowd's cheer turned into frantic applause and whistles.
“Thank You, Air Supplena!” The blonde guitarist yelled into the dingy old microphone. His forehead was laced with sweat, but his eyes gleamed with never-ending vigour. Even more cheers erupted as the band onstage gave each other one more nod before starting their last song for the evening.
“Joseph messed up the beat in the second verse. That totally threw Caesar off. Mon dieu , what a dumbass.” Polnareff groaned, taking another swig from his can of beer.
“Save the criticism for when we’re out of earshot, Pol. Remember, Joseph’s the only reason we get to use the studio free of charge this month.”
“Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time Avdol,” he grinned. “That doesn’t make it any less painful to notice though.”
Both let out a chuckle and poor Jotaro began to wish he’d ditched them this time around.
As hard as it was to believe, they were his bandmates. Without them, he’d probably be at home practicing the last few chord progressions of whatever song his cousin’s band was playing, or studying.
They’d met officially at one of “The Ripple’s” concerts earlier this year — though they’d seen each other around campus before — and hit it off because Polnareff wouldn’t stop trying to get Jotaro to talk after Avdol had introduced him as Joseph’s cousin. Or maybe it was because they were all musicians themselves.
At this point, the bulky teen had probably repressed the memory so far back in his mind that it would take even Joseph and his cunning way with words half a day to tease it out of him.
However it may have happened, it resulted in a Japanese Marine Biology student, an Egyptian History student and a Frenchman stumbling through any majors imaginable agreeing to make music together, which was bizarre enough on its own.
Jotaro groaned, leaving Avdol and Polnareff to their bickering, pulling his cap down and closing his eyes. His fingers started tapping on the table, instinctively following the rhythm set by “He Stopped Thinking”.
The aggressive sound of Caesar’s guitar blended well with the fast pace set through Suzi Q’s bass. Rounding everything off was Joseph’s intense drumming. It seemed so polished, so finished.
If they actually worked on it, they could probably achieve a sound like that for their own songs, Jotaro thought. But his brow furrowed and his fingers stopped mid-air when Caesar began to sing.
Fuck.
The guitarist's voice cut through the warbled mess of words the crowd tried to sing to cheer the group on, like an arrow shot through the woods. It hit the bullseye, clear and intense, unmistakable in tone, unique and unifying at once.
They couldn’t compete with that. Not at all.
Defeated, he slumped back in his chair.
“Give me a damn break.”
“You noticed it too?”
Another silent tug on his cap as he crossed one leg over the other and leaned back gave Avdol all the answers he needed. Resting his hands on their table, he looked over at Polnareff.
“Has anyone replied to the listings on the dorm’s blackboards yet?”
“Not a soul,” Polnareff muttered. He looked off to the stage absentmindedly while playing with his now empty can, red painted nails tapping in a fast pace against the metal.
“It almost feels like a cruel joke, non?” He sighed, leaning back in his chair, arms draped dramatically over the backrest. Frustration resounded clear in his voice.
“Shouldn’t be this hard to find a decent vocalist at a university with so many musical opportunities now, should it?”
Nobody said anything, because they knew damn well that he was right. In the first few weeks their hopes were soaring high, but they were shot down one by one as days passed, turning weeks into months of creative stagnation. And it sucked. Hard.
Avdol broke the uncomfortable silence. “Should we try the campus Facebook page again? Or promote on Instagram?”
“Like any of that is gonna start working out of nowhere.” Jotaro said. He shifted in his seat, patting his pockets down for a pack of cigarettes. After this concert was over, he’d need a break. A long one. By himself, if he was lucky enough to pin soon-to-be drunk Joseph on someone else.
“If we keep up this pace, our listings will start being considered spam.”
Polnareff couldn’t help but laugh, leaning on his elbow. “But seriously man, I don’t want to keep doing only instrumental tracks…”
The Frenchman looked off to the stage, his eyes fixed on the imminent spotlight. So close and yet so far away.
“I wanna convey a message, not just emotion, you know? I get that we’re good, but I want to take things to the next level with you guys.”
“We all want to do that, Pol — believe me.” Avdol sighed, shooting a glance toward an obviously agitated Jotaro. “But we can’t exactly force a singer to just appear, can we?”
“If we could, this would be a whole lot easier.” The Japanese teen muttered. His voice was easily overpowered by the reverb of the last chord and the crowds cheering as “He Stopped Thinking” ended.
The screeching sound of the metal chair legs scraping on the wooden floor were quickly followed by a “Having a smoke.” It was all the excuse Jotaro needed to disappear from the stuffy basement for a brief moment of quiet before the crowd stormed the exit.
It was colder outside than he’d anticipated — Well, as cold as it could get on a summer night. But the change in temperature was more than welcome to clear his head. Thin veils of smoke rose from his lit cigarette, clouds following as Jotaro sighed, leaning against the frigid brick wall with the taste of nicotine on his tongue.
He didn’t want to ask Joseph for help again, anything but that. He’d never hear the end of it, and if not from Joseph it would definitely be from himself.
He’d been rejecting his offer to join “The Ripple” for literal years, but couldn’t even keep up his own damn band’s morale. Not to mention how he hadn’t completed their line-up after seven months of their uneventful existence. If he couldn’t even manage that, then what was even the point?
Pain surged through his fist when he smashed it against the wall. Clenching his teeth, he leaned his head back against the red brick. What kind of a band leader was he supposed to be —
“Um, excuse me?”
Jotaro turned his head.
What was that voice?
Usually the fans wouldn’t come out for another five minutes. And usually the fans weren’t lanky Japanese looking redheads with odd long bangs in cherry print blouses. Was this some kind of joke?
“Sorry to interrupt… whatever it is you were doing, but do you know if the concert is still going?”
This was definitely a joke. It had to be. Either that or he was hallucinating. Did Pol lace his cigarettes with something?
Jotaro just shook his head, staring back into the other’s petite face. What was a guy like him doing here? In front of a dingy local live music bar? Alone?
“Oh, I see.” The redhead sighed, looking off to the lit-up display box next to the taller teen.
“Usually things like this don’t happen to me, I must have switched up the times for The Ripple and the next band.” He let out a strained laugh, turning back towards Jotaro, who was still just staring back at him with his resting bitchface. He stepped back a little, seemingly afraid to have infringed on Jotaro’s personal space, and looked to the side like an embarrassed schoolgirl.
“Sorry to bother you. I’ll just — ”
“They’re performing again next week, same time.” Jotaro grumbled. He tugged at his cap to hide a faint smile. “They’re regulars here. Hard to miss once you get used to them being there all the time.”
What was he even doing? Why was he helping this guy? If he could dress like... that… to a rock concert, he could look up the performance times himself, couldn’t he? But hell, he just seemed so… genuine when he heard it, smiling, moving his head just a little which made his golden cherry-looking earrings swing left to right. And the way he spoke—
Was he not intimidated by Jotaro at all?
“Ah, I see. I’ll try my best to remember it right this time around.” The other teen chuckled. He quickly took a picture of the lists on display before turning around to Jotaro one more time, his cheeks red from the cold.
“Thanks for your help…”
“Jotaro.”He supplied quickly, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out in an attempt to distract himself. The redhead smiled.
“Thanks, Jotaro. I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you then”
And with that, by far the oddest encounter of the night ended. Jotaro didn’t know what to make of even half of it as he watched the bizarre stranger walk home along the flickering streetlights. Only when he re-entered the club did he notice that he hadn’t even asked for the stranger’s name.