Sonata

Another one of Oli's ideas. He suggested it to his band since Corey was becoming a bigger threat to their sanctity and needed to have their feelings resolved. They skeptically decided to accept, and before they knew it, they were on their way to pick up Evelyn and the problem at hand.

Yes, he was also invited. They knew that the kid had nothing better to do and would jump at the chance to hang out with his idols. It seemed somewhat cruel that they used that against him as collateral to being a part of a debate that was on the basis of his future appearances.

The boys stood at the entrance, looking at the building before their eyes with indescribable bafflement. Evelyn's legs were suffocating beneath her pantyhose. Oli was smiling contently, and Corey was always a glimmering wreck; trying to belong but never succeeding.
The stone steps were leading them to a place they couldn't even pronounce. Yes, they were at a restaurant.

It was in real, foreign Italian.
Only a native of the country or intellectual, pastel-wearing jackass could say it properly and tell you if the food inside was actually authentic.

Dolce Enoteca e Ristorante.
Whatever the fuck that means.

"Don't yeh want a change in scenereh?"
Oli questioned in a brighter mood than before.

The rest of his friends stared at him like he was tripping on some hard drugs that could only be bought with a pot of gold and through the means of a leprechaun himself. They didn't even want to witness a place that was of such high fashion.

"If I wanted a change in scenery, I'd move teh a Brazilian jungle."

Nicholls' mouth was contorted in a permanent scowl since he stepped foot off the van, set on the twins, and after his comment, it was obvious that he wasn't trying too hard to hide it. He couldn't help but feel sick every time he saw the new friends together, considering that his camaraderie was practically chucked to the side.
He wanted so badly to scream at Corey that he wasn't welcomed by the majority, and that he knew his game.

He had an aching, terrible feeling that he wanted more than Oli's already valuable friendship. He wanted to have the fame, and might even attempt to threaten him somehow for it. He thought long and hard about his hypotheses the previous week ago, when he was first having his doubts in the Sykes household as they were playing video games. After Curtis had stated his worst fear out loud, his stomach dropped.

No one was going to harm his best mate, that much he knew, and no matter how skewed Oli's mind was at the time with this cruel illusion contrived by his twin, that's what Nicholls was for.

That's what best friends were for.
To smack the other back into reality when they were swayed towards fraud. To be the rational voice outside their head, only looking out for them and their best interests. They will be the ones that you go head to head with from one time or another because you'll stand your grounds on whatever beliefs are in question.

They might question those beliefs.
The true friends are the ones willing to fight to keep you, and Corey was just another battle for Matt to add onto his list of wins, he was sure.

Kean walked up beside him, catching up after taking a look on both sides of the sidewalk for no reason, and tried to strike up a conversation to tone down the unexpected discomfort.

"Eh, it looks pretteh nice. 'bout time weh go somewhere-"

"It's a joke. Olleh's feckin' wiff us, same wiff Coreh."

"Aye,"
Lee stepped to the other side of his allie.

"Sumfing's up their sleeve, or up their noses. Bet Coreh's an addict."

As much as a fraction of the boys hated it, he had indeed become a part of the crew. Only a few weeks ago, Nicholls and Lee would have humbly laughed in the faces of anyone who tried to give their band an alternative title to somehow advertise its non-existent, exclusive nature. Now that a new player had been introduced, however, they suddenly decided that there were standards to be met in order for someone to be accepted.

First and foremost; the main aspect, was everyone approving of the newcomer. It was an unspoken rule that Oli, Tom, Kean, Curtis, Lee, and Nicholls must grant entry to anyone trying to widdle their way into their lives, so to the guitarist and drummer who despised Corey and his cryptic motives, they felt betrayed by Oli when he didn't take their feelings into consideration.

He just allowed their membership to grow without regard to anyone else.

And in every argument they had in the context of Corey's presence, the singer would miserably try to use Eve as a defensive point, to her dissatisfaction. He tried to make an attribute that they accepted her even though she was an outsider.
So what was the difference?

Many things, apparently.

One was the fact that Evelyn was recruited, essentially, by Nicholls and Curtis; two underdogs yet strong shareholders of the group, and making it official when Oli strived to have her as his girlfriend. Not one of the other three who hadn't been added to the equation had any negative stance on it, so she naturally was allowed.

Another reason was that Evelyn was a lady, and a beautiful one at that, so any chance that the boys could be treated with the company of a great looking bird, there were no objections. She wasn't a slut with a heavy mask that wanted the materialistic gems they had to offer, and wasn't into banging any of them. Honestly, she was reeled in by the simplicity and aching desire to go to another show; something she had been deprived of for months.

She almost went against her heart and didn't go along with the boys in fear of danger ahead for herself. She wasn't interested in them until one showed interest in her; the right one.
Kean was the flirt, but Oli was the mysterious one who had a tough exterior and believed in chivalry.

A relationship was the farthest thing from her mind, and yet he had that certainty about him that flipped her world into his own. She had practically become family with all of them, and had a personality that was to love once she was cut open.

Corey, on the other hand, was shady.
Someone that used a common appearance with stardom as a way to become connected. He had run up to the BMTH table that night and interrupted while Curtis was in the middle of telling one of his many stories about a dumb ass move he made, which resulted into bigger consequences. Everyone looked at the wide-eyed new arrival with question and annoyance, for they thought they had performed at the club enough times to where the fans would stop hassling them.

Not that they considered them a hassle all the time, but it was understandable that they wanted to be left alone every now and then. The problem was that they had gotten used to being like everyone else, and having their own time, that at the sudden moment that it was taken away, it wasn't welcomed with open arms, exactly.
It just depended on what mood the boys were in, and how much liquor was in their system.

The only one who didn't seem to mind as much was Oli.
He may have had an eye roll once or twice, but most of the time, he was welcoming to his fans, signed whatever they put in front of his face, and smiled lightly whenever they wanted more visual proof that they had the guts to sneak out of their parents' house to go see him perform. He appreciated that, I could tell, and he could never get his other band mates to fully understand that.

Oli seemed brash as you spent time with him and the rest of the crew, but there was an obvious intellect more advanced than the level of maturity the others possessed. He had a better grasp on things, inside and out, and realized that there was a bigger picture to everything, even if he acted like there wasn't.
Maybe this is why he was the only one that was really fighting to keep Corey as part of the gang.

Right now, there were tables all around them, filled with people of different cultures and lives that were more severe or free than their own. Everyone had a contrasting story to their main issues in life, and they were all just wanting to forget about it as they dug in to a salad or the main course.

As they were seated, received their menus, and put in their drink orders with the petite waitress who was all smiles, they waited patiently. For what, they weren't quite sure, but they knew it had to be for more than the product that was going to be paid for.

They were all clueless about Oli's expeditious suggestion, and as the eight of them had escaped from the van and approached the food establishment, there was no turning back.

They eyed up the place, and it was evident that it held higher class than what was the norm. Only making the situation more confusing, everyone wondered what Oli was playing at. He acted as though he was in his element; as though he had been attending the restaurant as part of his daily routine.
Alongside singing in a metal core band illegally.

Curtis was enjoying the ambiance, for it was a nice change of pace from his real lifestyle that was filled with greasy chips, video games, and the guitar. He was actually in a place that required the need to be cordial, and etiquette that was fuming from his ass on the mahogany chair he was sitting on. His interest had been still on the intricate chandelier located above their heads; gleaming in a bright royalty where they didn't belong.
But nevertheless, the thought didn't stop him from admiring.

"Olleh, what the fuck are we doin' 'ere?"
Lee asked belligerently.

He was holding a crystal glass of red wine carelessly, as though he were holding a beer bottle. One by one, it was a simple observation that the group was out of place socially, and by appearance. The majority of them were tattooed and pierced; a huge contrast from the white collared, cuffling edge, gelled and combed back regulars.

They were, unfortunately, stuck in the middle of it all by Oli's request. The waitress instinctively walked them over towards the back of the restaurant out of the eyes of the wealthy, but he insisted that they get a regular table instead of a booth.
She had a flash moment of panic, but covered it up with a squeaky "okay" and led them to center stage.

They were quite used to that.
Oli watched as she walked away and took a gulp of his drink. Water.

"Yeh see the look on 'er face?"

His head craned to Evelyn, who shrugged her shoulders and glanced back in a vain effort to see what had long passed.

"She looked all freaked out."
Corey finished for his deemed superior.

Kean and Tom looked as Oli smiled over at him and nodded.

"Tryin' teh stuff us in the back, 'way from evereh'one. Keepin' their cus'mers safe from the ta'ooed monsters."

No one else seemed to give a damn about the hidden, sugar coated gesture that quickly melted into a rude discrimination. The other band mates were clearly uncomfortable in their surroundings as they were the tough, teeth gritting little carp in the pool of piranhas with gold and diamond encrusted fangs; stained with blood from the previous scampi they fed on. All the boys were certain that they were being criticized from dozens of dining tables who sipped wine and whispered in their mistress' ear; silently giggling at the imbeciles at table 9 right in the middle of the restaurant.

"Are yeh listenin' teh meh?"
Lee asked angrily.

His brow was furrowed, causing the skin between the eyes to squeeze together to intensify his irritation. Of all excluding Oli, he was one who didn't take too well to being constantly ignored. Over and over again he proved that by being the jokester; the one to spark your attention in a negative way if it was the last resort.
But when Lee couldn't achieve Oli's, that meant he was at a total loss, and he would rather not get to that brink.

Oliver glanced over nonchalantly and drank the wine.
One bottle at the table would not be enough.

"Course 'm listenin'. Chill out mate, we're jus' eatin lunch."

Tom pulled at the hem of his shirt in a pathetic way to escape the guaranteed judgment and stares he and his friends were receiving. He'd had the biggest challenge in always making an effort to accept himself and let other people in on it, but this brick wall dislocated his jaw and left every facial bone to break through his soft, England touched skin; the essence of him to pour down his face in a shattered mess.

His worst fears were encompassing around him and all he could do was endure it.

Even as juvenile as it sounds, he just wanted to grab Kean or Nicholls' hand to feel some sort of security from the dangers. He never would though, only if Oli was the one sitting next to him.
Tom glared at the inseparable pair, and figured he could get away with at least one murder since they were identical. Which would he get rid of: the clingy wannabe obsessed with his brother, or the adored, inspirational bastard himself?
It was easy to him: get rid of the idol.

He drank from his wine glass.
Nah, let him pay the consequences in the long run.

This made him snicker, and for a moment, he felt much better around all the strangers, being his complete self. Fuck the rest.

"The place is feckin' creepeh. I bet there's no 'ot sauce,"
Kean said, and the last bit absentmindedly.

He inspected the space further for a red bottle of danger, or a gorgeous redhead. Unfortunately, he couldn't find the color anywhere, unless it was on the saggy lips of a rich senior. Most of the people were wrinkled and knocking on the Reaper's door. No one was supposed to be that wealthy to afford a place like that unless they were a spineless yuppie with daddy's card or a millionaire in the midst of kicking the bucket.

Definitely not for people who indulged in extensive body art or pierced skin.

He saw Curtis out of the corner of his peripheral vision, amazed with the various utensils on his left and right.
Some for soup. Salad.
Sauteed vegetables. Linguini.
Steak. Raw Steak.
Things cooked over 100 degrees.
Chocolate ice cream. Vanilla ice cream.

Any food you could think of was associated with a different fork or spoon under the Rich Bastards Eating Guide, and the fascinated guitarist didn't know where to start. There were spoons with deeper concaves than the last, and forks with 3 teeth instead of 4, and dull knives as opposed to sharp meat cutters.

It made Kean more envious to know that using the right utensils for any given meal was the extent of the people's problems sitting around him, while jail time was on his mind.
And, of course, this entire "meeting".

As he spaced out for a moment, scrutinizing Curtis as he inspected things, he missed a crucial beginning to the controversy, which was a wrong move made by Corey, according to Matt Nicholls. He was ancy and checked his phone in a quick instant when he got snapped at.

"Yeh got sumwhere else teh be? Another group of people teh screw ova?"

The teen's eyes widened at the hostility, and shook his head frantically to get this agitated enemy off his back. He wanted to try to like Matt, he really did, for it was important.
More important than anything, considering that he was the one that was Oli's best friend. He wanted to be accepted, but it didn't seem to be working.

"s-sorry?"

"Yeh 'eard meh. Lookin' around like yeh missin' out on something. Jus' suspicious, as usual."

He gave him a hard glare, trying to make him crack. Matt was trying to make him crack under all the pressure of his verbal and body languaged brutality; on an ultimate endeavor to force Corey to be fearful enough to not want to come back ever again.
Everyone was brought out of their thick patience to turn attention to the one-sided fight. Evelyn, out of instinct, grabbing for her lover's hand as she was frightened by being blind sighted with cruelness, and knew Matt would kick ass if called to duty.
Or simply pissed off.

Oli's hand was limp below her's, paying more focus on controlling the situation with his various stares and tense body language. He was sending daggers at Nicholls, not even giving his other peon a glance. He knew, if the restaurant was strict enough as he thought it was, that Matt would be taken away, and everything would be back in order.

Corey tried hard to get his best alliance to help him out of the dire situation he had, unknowingly, gotten himself into, but it just wasn't working. He never liked fights, especially now that it included a heavily inked and pierced guy who looked as though he could chew iron and spit his teeth into his eyes.

But he had to defend himself, he realized.
So he did the best he could.

"Don't worry. I-I'm just trying to be friends dude."

Matt laughed cynically, his face truly lighting up in a darkness not known to most. Underneath that mask, there was a man losing his grip. Who could only take so much before he snapped.

"Tryin' teh take my friend, yeh twat."

Corey opened his mouth to counter this, before Lee intervened.
"Shut it mate, or 'ell kick yer ass."

But it didn't stop, thanks to Kean stating that they should "leave the guy alone because he looked like he swallowed an apple".

The whole debate had gotten everyone in a tailspin, and taking sides was starting to evolve into a full on war. So far, it was clearly known that Oli and Kean thought that Corey was a valuable addition, while Lee and Nicholls freely expressed their distaste. Tom stayed out of it the best he could, but was constantly prodded about his stance on the situation. His eyes darted back and forth between the two sides in fear of offending one with anything he said, and simply nodded to whoever was wanting approval.

As for Evelyn, she attempted to follow the same path as the baffled Sykes and kept herself away from any type of confrontation that she could. It was much harder though considering her boyfriend was so insistent on keeping Corey that she couldn't possibly go against it without any viable reasoning behind her disagreement.
Curtis had his worries, but could frankly give two shits.

They were attracting the absorption of the whole restaurant, and Oli kept watching with a somewhat worried expression in his eyes. He hated this fighting, he really did, but he didn't want to get involved because he didn't want to potentially ruin any of the relationships he had established. Matt was his best friend, and so were the others. He wasn't going to get caught in it until his name was mentioned.

"Oli, can yeh jus' listen teh meh fer a moment?!"
Nicholls cried helplessly.

And there it was.
He looked over at Nicholls blankly, except with that small element of fear, and slammed his head down against the wooden surface of the table; finally grasping Evelyn's hand tighter, who was looking at him in question.

He couldn't say anything. He didn't want to say anything.
The entire point of this meeting was for them to work the problems out themselves, and have the chips fall where they may. That's what he had been telling himself all the way to the restaurant.
He genuinely liked Corey for a lot of reasons. One because he was his twin, he was in awe of him, and also because he was willing to do anything for him.

Oli appreciated that sort of admiration at any time, and he wasn't about to give it up because his friends had a bad feeling about it. He knew that Corey would never do anything to hurt him, or anyone else in the band for that matter, so he just stuck to his beliefs and let it live on.

When he didn't say a word to Matt, however, the face of his most trusted friend fell drastically. Oli wasn't supporting him when he was only trying to save his ass from any sort of screwing.
He was making a great effort to help him and keep him from con artists like Corey, who were rotten and filthy and only wanted to fuck people over for their own benefit.

He blinked.
This was like a bad dream.

A screaming voice being tortured in the middle of an uncaring crowd who couldn't hear him over all the noise. Over all the influence.
Corey had already gotten into Oli; sunk his teeth into his friend's colorful flesh.

He looked down at the bastard with the most hateful eyes, and he knew it was too late. This probably wasn't even Oli's idea to visit the foreign named restaurant in the first place, considering that it was so out of his character.

Corey probably told him it'd be a good idea, and he just went with it. Like a vulnerable puppy who could only follow its mother because it didn't know any better.

Oli was no longer in charge and in his right mind.
Corey was.

Overcome by rage, Matt jumped from his chair and reached for his throat with the full intention of killing him. In the deep corner of his mind, he knew that he was going to be put away one day for all the illegal shit he had been participating in, so he might as well do something that would cause less problems in his life.

Corey ducked just in time, and Matt ended up falling over the edge of the table, past where his prey used to be sitting, and knocking his body into the wood floor face first. He layed there for a moment, emotional and angry, before the restaurant security hastily snatched him up from under his armpits and told him that he was being kicked out for the disruption.

He didn't try thrashing too much.
He didn't cause a bigger scene by yelling about how he was being fucked by the law and he had the right to be there.

But he did unintentionally take a glance back at the collapsed Corey who bloodied his lip from his dodge.
And through the runny, scarlet liquid...
The fucker was smiling.