𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝.

𝚃𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝.

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝,

𝙽𝚘, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝

𝙰𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞,

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚞𝚗.

"What the fuck are you doing in the girl's bathroom?" Lennon asked surprisingly fast, causing her to lift her hand to cover her mouth. "Sorry..." she immediately apologized for cursing out of turn.

"Shit..." Eddie smirked devilishly, leaning back slightly as he approached her. "The rising cheer queen has a dirty mouth..." he chuckled.

"Why are you in the girl's bathroom?" she asked, ignoring his mockery and backing away from him as he continued to stalk closer.

What she expected him to do was continue getting closer until she had nowhere else to go. She thought he would try and tower over her, to intimidate her, to dominate her in some way.

But instead, he noticed her nervous stance and stopped halfway.

"Look," he put his hands up. "I just saw you and Harrington getting kind of heated back there and... I don't know..." he shrugged, realizing what he was going to say would have sounded creepy and stalker-like.

"Athletes like you should eat like... way more than any of us parasites and wanted to see if you're okay," he rolled his eyes, running his tongue over his upper teeth in thought, hoping she would see that he was trying to ask if she was alright in a way that sounded like he cared but in a way that didn't sound freakish.

Which, to be fair, he was already suspecting since she hung around the rest of the jocks who found him evil and animalistic. He was grasping at straws. He didn't think it would make much of a difference but he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't try.

"You didn't answer my question," she replied quietly, chewing on her thumb as she took one more step back for good measures.

It wouldn't have mattered if he was Eddie, Steve, or even innocent Jonathan. She would've been equally as anxious to get away from them.

She found it wildly inappropriate to be with a boy all alone in the bathroom like that. And it didn't help that everyone was telling her to stay clear of Eddie. She wasn't sure who he was. He could be as evil as everyone said, or he could actually be a nice guy. But Lennon didn't know and she wasn't going to find out now; not like this.

"Fine," Eddie groaned. "Are you alright?" he asked bombastically, trying desperately to seem innocently curious rather than show her the truth; which was that he was concerned about someone he met less than a week ago.

Lennon stared at him incredulously, overtaken by fear and shock which dilapidated her from replying immediately. "Steve's... my brother's best friend. W-why wouldn't I be alright?" she held her arms close to her torso, hoping she could warm herself or provide enough pressure to alleviate some of her worries.

"Your brother... Who's your brother?" Eddie wondered, noticing how she mentioned him a lot but he wasn't acquainted with a name to put to the description. "Because, if I'm being honest," Eddie scoffed, trying to ease the tension growing between them. "This brother of yours doesn't seem like the nicest of dudes and I wouldn't really wanna hang out with his friends if they treated me like that," he narrowed his eyes at her sympathetically.

"Could you..." she took a deep breath and pulled her thumb from her mouth. "Could we maybe not talk about them here... Please..." she could feel her fingers start to throb and her heart was racing from within her ribcage.

"Whoa, look," he put his hands up again in surrender, seeing how uncomfortable she was and admitting to his innocence before her worry could grow. "If I wanted to try some shady shit with you, I would've locked the door."

"You think that's assuring?" her eyes got wide with surprise but her tone was a little more mocking than worried now.

"Well..." Eddie's eyes ran towards the ceiling in thought, realizing that didn't come out the way he intended. "Wuh- well... may-maybe not..." he admitted, taking a step back and offering her a nervous smile. "But uh..." he started to back away and his smile started to turn into a frown. "I'll just... Go. Just uh... eat something?" he asked, squinting his eyes and exiting the room with his confidence six feet in the ground.

Lennon didn't want to admit it. But there was an equal amount of relief and intensification that followed his leave. She couldn't quite explain it.

It was like her anxiety had been alleviated but her comfort was far from cured.

How could that be possible?

How could she be unnerved by him yet comforted at the same time?

Words.

Brontë's words. Nancy's words. Steve's words. Even Eddie's own words.

They were fucking with her.

Because their words were not matching her feelings.

The things she was told about this man didn't match his profile. She had seen things from him, in him, all of which didn't match what others said about him.

And it wasn't a good feeling to hear those words leave Eddie's mouth about trying her. The thought must have crossed his mind if he bothered to mention it and that terrified her. She didn't trust him. She was hesitant.

But that was the problem.

She was hesitant.

Any normal person would have listened to what everyone had to say and steer clear. Any normal person would have heard Eddie talk about drugs and about being conscious about his weird behavior and turned the other way without a second thought.

But she didn't.

She still didn't believe it.

She kept thinking about those eyes...

How sincere and kind he seemed.

She looked at him and didn't see a monster. She didn't see a scary freak. She didn't see someone evil.

She felt crazy. She felt like her eyes were deceiving her. There was no good reason to keep putting her faith into the man. She didn't know him...

But maybe that was the problem.

She only knew what others thought they knew about him. She didn't know him.

Until she did, she didn't think her fixation would go away.

She took a deep breath again and sniffled, pushing past her initial shock, and moved out into the hall to continue her very long and drawn-out week.

She avoided the cafeteria from there on out. She packed her lunch for the rest of the week and stood clear from as many social gatherings as possible which went against everything she was trying to achieve.

But Steve was too much. Eddie was too much. They were all too much for her to handle.

She didn't care if people started to see the real her; the her that could only handle so much socializing and withstand so much exposure before reverting into her shell. She couldn't keep doing it.

She ate outside despite the wavering cold. It was the only place she knew nobody would go looking for her. She would eat and write down all her discontent in her journal to keep her mind busy.

Nobody ever followed her and nobody told her she couldn't, so she ate alone, in the cold, with only her thoughts to keep her company.

And during cheer practice on Friday, the routine for the winter game was taught by the coach. It was two weeks before the break but she wanted to make sure the girls were prepared for practice in December. They only had five practices until then and it was a big game for the school.

Apparently, since the basketball team had won the last two of their games, they were able to host the final game of the 1985 year.

Lennon pretended to know what everyone was talking about but she didn't pay much attention. She just tried to remember the moves and positions and make sure not to cause one of their flyers to lose their balance.

Again, like the week before, when they all took their fifteen-minute break, the basketball team came flooding in. However, the only difference this time was their ability to share the gym.

The team practiced a half-court game and the cheerleaders practiced on the other half.

What didn't change, was Billy's ability to snatch Lennon's attention. He was really nice to look at but he had an attitude from Hell. He was cocky and vain, and behaviors like that tended to take away from how attractive someone was.

When the cheer team got back to work for the remaining fifteen minutes, Lennon kept getting distracted. It only took her once to accidentally trip Chrissy before she corrected herself.

Once practice was over, she didn't have time to shower because Brontë worked; and since she took longer this time, he was a few minutes late when he clocked in.

She took to sitting at the bar and doing some homework while her brother worked on the other end of the room.

Fridays and Saturdays were always their busiest days but with all the stress Lennon faced, she was too exhausted to leave before dark. She decided to stay there until Brontë got off which would be around three or four in the morning. She wouldn't have slept well anyway and there was no school in the morning, so why not?

Brontë had checked up on her every hour as people started crowding The Hideout. He knew how she hated loud noises and having to be polite to everyone who brushed shoulders with her regardless of the reciprocity.

One of the five bartenders on the night shift asked her if she was going to order anything but since she couldn't legally purchase alcohol, she told him she was eighteen and he offered her some water. When she kindly declined, he then asked if she minded taking her work to one of the tables set out in the middle of the room and she agreed.

Lennon finished her calculus homework and managed to start drawing people she saw having a good time with partners, family, friends, and even strangers. She started with her brother, knowing if she fucked up she wouldn't be as critical.

It was around seven at night by the time she had a full page of her brother's side profile and a rough sketch of a couple across the bar. By then, the music playing off the speakers transformed from the light, funky, pop music someone could hear playing at the mall to more dark and electric rock music.

Lennon was bored and tired and moved toward the bar again to try and spark up a conversation with the only person she knew there. But, since it was Friday, their conversations kept getting interrupted and she couldn't blame Brontë for it.

She finally asked for an Arnold Palmer, giving him a cheeky grin and he obliged... but without the vodka. She groaned and started a mindless drawing of one of the other bartenders after paying for her drink.

However, in the middle of her sketching, just as she had stared at the blond with quiffed hair long enough to make him uncomfortable, there was a voice echoing off the speakers of the bar. And miraculously, she was able to locate its physical origins.

"Hello!" someone greeted on the small stage set up in the very back, furthermost from the bar and front door.

Lennon had turned, as did most of the customers to give their attention to the young brunet with almost a concerning amount of metal in his mouth. "It's a cold night out tonight. And there's no better way to get those bodies warm than with beer and some rockin' music to get those hearts pumpin'!"

Lennon was listening to the boy speaking, watching how his forehead reflected the lights with either sweat or oil, making his hickory skin look bumpier than it probably would have in any other situation. However, he quickly lost ownership of the microphone when a flurry of beautifully bouncy brown locks and big chocolate-colored eyes raced to the stage with a guitar swinging loosely around his hips.

In an instant, Lennon's heart dropped and her eyes got wide when he laughed into the microphone.

"I'd like to apologize beforehand for my scratchy vocals but our friend Jeff over here can't quite get past his enunciations with the braces so we'll just have to tolerate what we can," Eddie extended his hand to the backup guitarist with a wide grin on his face. "Give it up for Corroded Coffin!" he announced, bringing his hand up into the air and scrapping the pic between his fingers across the six strings of his mahogany instrument.

If he was looking for applause or cheering, he didn't give people very much time to show their encouragement.

Maybe that was a conscious decision because when Lennon scanned the people around her, they all seemed too laid back or disinterested to match the music they played. She looked back at the band, then turned away with a confused stare on her face.

She was looking amongst the crowd to see if anyone else was seeing what she was seeing.

She couldn't believe who she saw on that stage so maybe others found a bunch of high schoolers who were all underage a bit strange as well. But those who had turned towards the live music all seemed accepting and those who weren't interested continued their conversations as if it weren't that big of a transition.

Lennon then turned back towards the band, seeing the youngest of them all sitting at the drum kit in the far back, bouncing his leg and nodding his head with the primary beat. She recognized him better than the bass and backup guitarist.

Gareth... He was a junior too and Lennon had physics and P.E with him. But he never excelled in either. She had no idea he was in a band... and she most certainly could not have predicted he be in a band with Eddie Munson.

The guy who had the microphone before Eddie blared his guitar was named Jeff and the bassist with razor burn and curly, short-cropped hair was named Grant.

But she wasn't watching any of them. She had her eyes focused on the man in the middle. She watched how his fingers tightened around the red pic in his hand and how his tongue would slip from between his lips in concentration, waving his hair in the air to the beat of the music.

She caught herself staring a little too intently and she quickly cast her eyes out to her brother, looking for his face between the five men behind the counter. He was chatting away to a girl with frizzy blonde hair and was far too interested in flirting to notice the band on the stage in the back. Besides, if it was a normal occurrence, why would he be affected by them?

She swept up her drawing and pencil into her bag, hurrying to get away from Brontë. She moved from the bar, deserting her drink entirely and weaving between the people standing by the stage until she was on the opposite wall as the alcoholic beverages.

She nervously looked through the crowd and saw her brother starting on a drink for the girl's friend. She let out a sigh of relief but made sure to duck down slightly in case he did come to his senses. She pulled her first layered hoodie over her head and folded her arms across her chest as Eddie and his band played Medusa by Anthrax.

She stood in fascination, watching how the rhythm flowed from his fingers, through the guitar, and into the air so effortlessly; it was almost as if he were made of music himself.

His erratic strumming simmered to one more maintainable and he had stood tall, leveling his enthusiastic mouth with the metal of the microphone. His eyes remained focused on his fingerwork as his lips parted and a string of vocal music projected heavenly from his throat.

Lennon found herself watching more intently having never seen Eddie like this before. He wasn't nearly as scary when he was performing. He looked more comfortable than ever with a guitar in his grasp, surrounded by his friends, and not being booed off stage was a nice addition.

She appreciated the music.

From Whitney Houston to Black Sabbath, she enjoyed everything in-between, but there was something about the music her brothers always listened to that had a soft spot in her heart.

From Rion's obsession with AC/DC, wannabe rockstar phase, which he never got the opportunity to grow out of, to Brontë's annoying cassettes of bootlegged Fleetwood Mac and recent Guns n' Roses collection; Lennon would always cherish the rockier side of music a little more.

Halfway through the performance, she realized she hadn't felt on edge the entire time. She wasn't shaking, she wasn't feeling her heart beat out of her chest, she wasn't cold, she hadn't jumped or flinched at the music, she wasn't afraid...

It had been a while since she was out in public and not feeling some variety of anxiety. Especially in loud, crowded places... She used to feel vulnerable, exposed, and threatened. But not now. Not while watching Corroded Coffin.

Eddie was biting his bottom lip as he strummed whenever he wasn't singing and like clockwork, his head was thrown back in ecstasy, singing up into the ceiling. His head banged back and forth, Gareth's head swung side to side as his foot steadied the beat, Grant's shoulders were swinging to every other beat, and Jeff's legs were twisting and stomping along like he was performing some sort of serotonin-fueled dance on stage.

Everyone looked excited and happy.

It was so strange to see through Lennon's eyes. All she ever saw of these boys were from school when their distanced gazes were on their feet and their shoulders were slumped with depression or boredom. But they were jumping and singing now. They had let loose of all regrets and all consciousness of their own being was released as they let the music energize their bodies.

It was impossible to watch them and not sway her hips slightly or bop her head to the beat. It was addictive. All of them. Their stage presence wasn't quite perfect, not quite professional or attractive as a whole, but Lennon couldn't look away. They were attention-grabbing and the energy they brought with them made up for their lack of initial inspiration.

Maybe it was their ability to keep a steady yet complex beat and never skim over a difficult note. Maybe it was their leather jackets and cool personas. Or maybe it was the fact they collaborated and integrated perfectly amongst themselves. You could tell they knew each other for a while and they genuinely enjoyed each other's company. Or perhaps it was the fact they weren't troubled with being liked but instead reveled in the joy and excitement of it all.

There was something captivating and irresistible about someone who was capable of losing themselves in their pleasures.

Life was far too performative.

And even though these four people were supposed to be performing for a crowd of a couple dozen people, it seemed so natural in how they united to create this beautifully galvanizing ensemble of heavy metal and mutual appreciation for the production of music.

Lennon had a soft smile on her reddened and slightly cracked lips as her eyes followed Eddie in his performance. Her head was subtly bopping with the music and her weight shifted slightly between her feet but she refused to let anyone see just how satisfied she was with their band.

Just as Eddie was singing the final string of lyrics, his eyes locked onto the studious pair peering up from beneath a lowered hood in the crowd.

His face was wiped clean of passion but his voice never wavered. His eyes softened on her as he sang and her belly was lit aflame underneath them.

"Medusa, oh, she's cold!"