Anonymous Wed 29 May 2024 07:36:58 No.66141459 Report

Quoted By: >>66141496 >>66141529 >>66141544

>I can't believe I let my friend drag me to this dumbass concert. What kind of a name is "Free Throw," anyway? John assured me this band was legit
>but how could some no-name band still in high school warrant such a crazy good
>reception? Especially with a genre name like "Midwest Emo."

>I stand in the pit of the hole-in-the-wall music joint, already wanting nothing more than to go home.
>I take a sip of my beer as the curtains slowly rise, showing the silhouettes of three teenagers: a beanpole pterodactyl with a guitar,
>a parasaur on the drums, and a triceratops chick holding the microphone.
>They shift around nervously as the rising curtain signals the oncoming start of the show. Oh boy, another garbage high school band who thought they were the next
>hot shit and are now realizing the situation they've gotten themselves into.

>Sigh

Anonymous Wed 29 May 2024 07:39:43 No.66141496 Report

Quoted By: >>66141529 >>66141544

>>66141459
>Hopefully, they'll just stop playing after the first song so I will have some time to decompress back home. Hopefully, John'll learn his lesson and stop dragging me to these mediocre shows.
>The fluorescent lights flip on, illuminating the trio in blinding light. Oh my God is that army larper really going to play on a pink and white guitar?! He looks like they stuck a gay dude on an army recruitment poster and told him to
>pick his favorite colors! It takes all the restraint I have to not burst out laughing. I nudge John's arm, ready to ridicule him for his choice in bands once again, but the teasing words die in my throat.
>He's unphased. He'd always give me at least a trite excuse, like 'don't judge a book by its cover', or say something like 'well the reviews said they were good," but he's not making any excuses. He's just calmly looking back at me.
>There's no way he thinks this closeted homo and his butt buddies are going to put on a good show.
>But his eyes tell me to pay attention to the stage.
>So, I do.
>The triceratops girl fiddles with the mic, her eyes having finally adjusted to the retinal searing of the stage lights.
>"H-hi, everyone!" The feedback from the mic fills the small room before thankfully dissipating.
>"We're called Free T-Throw, and I hope you enjoy our show!" She quickly finishes her introduction and looks back to the other two members. Their anxiety is obvious, but as they prepare to dive into their first song, their demeanors
>shift. The nervous kids from before have been replaced by a completely different group: professional musicians.
>The parasaur clicks his drumsticks together and the twig of a pterodactyl strums the first notes of the song.
>It's... nostalgic. A mix of regret and longing for better days.

Anonymous Wed 29 May 2024 07:41:57 No.66141529 Report

Quoted By: >>66141544

>>66141459
>>66141496
>He completely loses himself in the chords, swaying ever so slightly as his fingers glide along the fretboard, making me delve into my own memories; thoughts of home, of simpler days, when all I had to worry about was how angry mom would be when I stayed out late.
>Then the singers ethereal vocals kick in: "Let's just forget everything said. And everything we did. Best friends and better halves. Goooooooodbyeeeeeeeees. And the Autumn night when we realized: we were falling out of love."
>I'm completely lost in the song. It pulls on something in my chest. I remember days I wished I could forget. People I wished I could forget.
>And people I wished I never said goodbye to...
>I'm still lost in my head when I realize the song has ended. The teenage trio is standing on the stage, sweating and terrified of the reaction the crowd.
>I set my drink down and clapped.
>Before long, the whole pit is clapping along as well. The three teens are absolutely beaming. With their confidence restored, they scramble to go into their next song.
>I see John simply staring at me with a satisfied grin from the corner of my eye.
>I don't even care, this is my new favorite band.
>After several more heart-pulling songs, the band regrettably ends their performance. They pack up their music and head off-stage.
>"Well?" John is still sporting that smug grin from earlier
>didn't really have any words for him. I wasn't much of a music buff, but the way their songs made me feel was a whole new experience. "They were fantastic," was the only reply I could think of.
>"Told ya so!" John walks ahead, satisfied that his one-hundredth attempt at finding a good band was successful.
>I linger back for a moment, contemplating what to do now. I'm more exhausted, mentally and physically than I've ever felt before, but I feel an overwhelming motivation to do one thing.

Anonymous Wed 29 May 2024 07:42:58 No.66141544 Report

Quoted By:

>>66141459
>>66141496
>>66141529
>One ring.
>Two rings.
>Three rings.
>Just as the fourth ring is about to end, the call goes through.
>"Joseph? It's almost midnight, why the hell are you calling me?" Her tone is angry, but there's something underneath it. The same thing I'm feeling in my chest.
>"Hey... I know it's late, but I just wanted to call you. I think there are some things I left unsaid between us. Do you... think we could meet up somewhere for breakfast? I-i-if you want to, of course." There's a pause on the other line.
>"Sure. Meet me at our usual spot." The phone clicks. Silence.
>Pocketing my phone, I walk home. Whatever happens now, at least I won't have regrets later.