Sonata

Tom was a curious character.
There seemed to be this sort of, so-called "wall" when we were in the van; all of us together.

At first, sure, I thought it was somewhat weird, but then I realized that maybe it was just me being on the offensive, instead of taking the contrasts of people's personalities into account.
Just because all the other guys were loud and outgoing, didn't automatically title him so.

Kind of like Oli, in a slanted way.
Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I saw the resemblance.
They were both introverted to their own extent:
Oli in the sense that he had to take a while to get comfortable with the new encounter of a stranger, and Tom with the absence of everyone else except for the new arrival and himself.

That's right:
Tom said more than expected as we sat at the merch table.

He wasn't Mr. Talkative, but he was, at the least, a little better than before.
The sudden spark in confidence that seemed to sputter from inside him after everyone was gone had me thinking that I actually witnessed his true personality just a bit.

Mouthing that one of the boys likes me was certainly ground that we broke.

I blinked once, blinked twice, then tried to contemplate whether or not I saw what I saw, or if insanity was just around the corner.
His face didn't hold one of false entertainment in seeing me shocked, but instead, candid amusement with a small smirk creeping up the right corner of his lips.

"What?" I muttered.

I wanted to be sure that I was correct.
Speech reading was never my strong point, and I envied the people who could be 50 feet from the person who mouthed something as complex as telling them a summary of their entire day. I could barely understand simple phrased statements like "I love you" or "Look at that guy".
I couldn't trust my instincts if they were flawed to begin with.

Tom's sly smile grew bigger as he was busy rifling through the stacks of CDs on the table; not looking at me.

"You 'eard meh."

Was he occupying himself with a task in order to spare eye contact? This is the shyness coming back into effect. I thought it was funny that he referred to the wrong sense out of the five in play.
No, I didn't hear him.

Someone walked up to the table, a girl, one with long blonde hair and a chest that could not only be due to genetics, but surely, money. Not that I liked to judge people solely on appearance in the first place, but I seemed to be doing it a lot in the past couple hours anyway. She was all smiles and giggles as she approached us, and Tom returned the gesture with a better, augmented one than before.

I watched patiently, but a hot, uneasy demeanor could be recognized if looked for. This new, exciting information was teasing me, and I wanted to know Tom's entire thesis to his hypothesis.
The girl grinned more, said her thanks, and stalked off.

"Oli likes me?"

I didn't mean for it to happen, but my voice jumped up an octave at the enlightening question. The oxymoron of the night.
Purely out of astoundment.
PURELY.

The loud discussion that included everyone else in the club made it harder on my ears; trying to hear Tom's soft-spoken tone.
All I could depend on, yet again, was the fucking speech reading.
Why couldn't someone in my family be deaf?

"I can't hear you."

He leaned in closer,
"I said 'yes'. Oli's my brub; I can tell."

I looked at him in shock once again.

"Brub? As in brother?"

He nodded, turning away from the table and in my direction.
"Yeah."

I never would have guessed. Sure, I had made the resemblance between their levels of introversion moments ago, but it's not as though they had that much in common, let alone the same mother and father. They didn't look related, that was for sure.
Oli sported those tattoos and piercings while Tom was the 'good boy' type, and if that wasn't enough collateral, then we can take a look at real science.

Oli was somewhat tan with honey eyes.
Tom was pale with striking blues.

It would leave the creator scratching his own head; pondering at how he made bipolar opposites blood brothers.
I was about to counter him, but the lights dimmed, and the crowd cheered.

And the show began.

I gazed in awe as the boys walked onto the stage; towards their instrument of choice. Seeing a guitar, or a bass, or a drum, it was as though I were seeing it for the first time all over again. They had been taken away and disposed of, which was only sweet terminology for thrown carelessly into a pit; licked by the flames.

All bodies in the cramped sanctuary were cheering and throwing their fists in the air like the rebels they were for showing up to participate in some "illegal activity", while Tom and I just witnessed in silence.

Every band member had their own way of recognizing/greeting everyone:

Matt N. gave a small wave on his way to the drum set, then once their, held the sticks up in the air triumphantly.

Lee put up two thumbs and held his bottom lip between his teeth in some odd facial expression that I figured was his signature.

Matt K. was staring in one direction the whole time, and I was curious to see why, but as my eyes trailed over to location, I realized it was another girl -different from the one mere 10 mins ago- and never stopped looking.

My heart crawled up my throat when Oli walked on; wearing a navy blue tank top with a distorted mummy bombarding it, and frayed cargo denims. He didn't acknowledge any one in any way, which made me think that he was either pissed off or just a jackass.
Or both.

Unexpectedly, he glanced at me.

I shriveled under the gaze and sank in my chair; nothing less of intimidated. His face lit up when he saw me, and very unnoticably, slowed his canter.

My face was shaded scarlet as he winked at me.

Okay so it turns out that Tom was right. Maybe.
I didn't really know what to think. Oli barely said more than a flirtatious phrase to me in the van, and let's not forget, made me experience the most uncomfortable descent down the stairwell with his tries at conversation.
Although he did halt Tony's price for me to enter, and he held the door open for me.

Oh wow.
That's getting a little ahead of myself.

He still kept looking at me as he made his way to the middle; where a Mic was hoisted like shrimp on a stick; duct tape wrapped haphazardly around the base.

He grasped for it lightly, and for the first time, endorsed the people there to see him.

"'Ello, 'ow are ye-"

And then Curtis kissed him.