Status: In progress ...
Commotion on the Gurney Again
Getting started
I am awoken by the sound of drums resonating through the walls and the floorboards of my tiny apartment. Soon after the drums start I hear a bass, followed by a guitar, and eventually joined by a voice. It has to be said, Brendon has the most amazing voice I've ever heard and together with Ryan, Jon and Spence, they sound great as a band.
Here on the outskirts of Las Vegas, no one really complains about the noise levels because there's hardly anyone in the neighbourhood to complain. An elderly couple next door who are hard of hearing, and a slightly odd young man next door who is either drunk or high, he never really lives in the house, just uses it as a place to crash when he has no money.
Absent mindedly I wander downstairs to get food, (because who doesn't love food?) and find the guys all sitting round the breakfast bar deep in conversation about something I have no idea about. The chat seems to stop when I walk into the room, and I realise it's because I'm half naked, only a crop top and shorts cover my body. Awkwardly I take the walk of shame back to my room to put on more concealing clothes. Although we are practically a family, we still have boundaries such as clothing - what is and isn't acceptable - and the type of people we get close to. (Mainly because if the band takes off we don't want crazy people stalking our every move and camped outside on our lawn just to get a glimpse of us.) Only 3 people outside of the band plus parents know that the lads are off to meet with Pete Wentz in the shot of getting a record deal.
When I return the boys are back downstairs rehearsing again, leaving me to clean up the mess that they managed to make from a 10 minute break. Cereal bowls and spoons scattered on the counter top, an empty milk bottle and sugar pot in the centre and a can of red bull lays nearly empty with the remainder dripping from the opening. Brendon. I laugh as a picture him bouncing around singing in a silly British accent while the others sit and stare urging him to carry on with rehearsals. Out of all the guys who aren't related, Brendon is my favourite
Here on the outskirts of Las Vegas, no one really complains about the noise levels because there's hardly anyone in the neighbourhood to complain. An elderly couple next door who are hard of hearing, and a slightly odd young man next door who is either drunk or high, he never really lives in the house, just uses it as a place to crash when he has no money.
Absent mindedly I wander downstairs to get food, (because who doesn't love food?) and find the guys all sitting round the breakfast bar deep in conversation about something I have no idea about. The chat seems to stop when I walk into the room, and I realise it's because I'm half naked, only a crop top and shorts cover my body. Awkwardly I take the walk of shame back to my room to put on more concealing clothes. Although we are practically a family, we still have boundaries such as clothing - what is and isn't acceptable - and the type of people we get close to. (Mainly because if the band takes off we don't want crazy people stalking our every move and camped outside on our lawn just to get a glimpse of us.) Only 3 people outside of the band plus parents know that the lads are off to meet with Pete Wentz in the shot of getting a record deal.
When I return the boys are back downstairs rehearsing again, leaving me to clean up the mess that they managed to make from a 10 minute break. Cereal bowls and spoons scattered on the counter top, an empty milk bottle and sugar pot in the centre and a can of red bull lays nearly empty with the remainder dripping from the opening. Brendon. I laugh as a picture him bouncing around singing in a silly British accent while the others sit and stare urging him to carry on with rehearsals. Out of all the guys who aren't related, Brendon is my favourite
♠ ♠ ♠
Next chapter is better :')