“ I saw the bird fly away from my window the moment I woke up. I guess it's some kind of a sign for me. I don't know what it means, but paying more attention to my surroundings will pay off. "

Anon hid the notepad in the bag and closed it. The surroundings were the same as before: unknown people fill up the wagon, stiff air stands in space between heads with no movement. The sky outside was spreading wide and evenly gray. The bag sits between Anon's legs on the floor. In this stiffness, the jacket on his body felt unnecessary, but he didn't even unzip it. Anon's gaze, still and thoughtful, looked outside, at the typical moving urban landscape. Distant buildings of different tallness, veins of streets spread around... Nothing special.

And yet Anon was thoroughly thinking. He never thought so much in his entire life. His gaze froze, his arms lie still on his laps – his body was static, but his mind was screaming of scrutinized work. It, in this moment, was like a clockwork – ticking perpetually. Anon had something on his mind – something that was enough to prove that this day held something for him. It could be anything, from little to massive, all the way up to the meteor suddenly hitting the Earth, wiping all life away into the straight nothingness. Anon wasn't sure, and this guessing game wasn't something he likes to do, so the only thing he did was hoping. Hoping that whatever change will take hold, he would be strong enough to embrace them, hitting his very being at the speed of light.

The train slowly stopped. Anon made his way to the tambour. The doors opened, and he left the train; soon he left the platform and was walking on the sidewalks to the university. Shops beside him tried to lure him in, the chaotic movement of car traffic tried to stop him, but Anon was determined, and his utter determination manipulated the reality around him. He moved nonstop, even on the concrete staircase to the university he didn't hesitate a nanosecond. Fear of the unknown wasn't there even for a small glimpse, as his mind was filled to the brim with all feelings he needed to handle what will come today.

Anon entered the building and, as if on cue, his mind was cleansed, and this stressful determination transformed into casual blissful nonchalancy. Quickly, he made his way into the dressing hall, left his jacket, left the dressing hall and went straight to the third floor, soon reaching his classroom and the classmates grouping around it. He stood near, leaning onto the wall to his right with his shoulder, phone in one hand, passing time. All seemed the same, everything and everyone were the same as a week ago, but Anon knew this day would change a lot today – and everything in the near future.

Looking around, he spotted Leo, walking to him. He looked calm, happy. Leo walked to Anon, they shook hands, chatted a bit, then Leo walked off, barely a couple of seconds before the bell strikes the beginning of the first class. Slowly, the hallways emptied, with Anon's class being the last to enter their classroom. Anon took his usual seat, took out the things necessary for today's first lecture, feigned concentration and started writing down with everyone.

 

***

 

Two periods later, Anon found himself in the music class. Typical “activity period”, when out of fifteen subscribed students only six, including Anon, have arrived. The teacher looked displeased with how many students there were and how little those who have come here actually cared. For them, it's nothing more than just an opportunity to pass time. Five minutes before the bell, nothing looks like other students might arrive. The teacher, irritated, said, as calm as possible:

— Free period.

It meant almost nothing for students, since that was what they were doing already. The teacher soon went off, attending to his own business. Anon took out his wireless earbuds, put them inside his ears, turned on some music and closed his eyes. With Jon Chang screaming into his ears, with Matsubara, Cordoba and Fajardo blasting away, he was calm and still. The feeling of something serious occurring today more and more seemed like an afterthought, a peak of his occasional paranoia. Maybe nothing will actually happen, and everything shall remain the way it is.

Suddenly, Anon heard a loud thump. The sound was so loud it pierced through the music he was listening to. Anon opened his eyes, took one of earbuds out to listen to his surroundings. Looking around, he noticed a student, panting, throwing his gaze all around.

— Am I late? – The student asked.

The reaction of one of the students, looking back, reassured the panting runner. He sighed in relief, entered, closing the door behind himself, made his way around, soon stopping beside Anon's table.

— Is this seat taken? – The student asked.

Anon looked at the student. Their gazes met, and for a second he froze. He knew the student. He knew her from the day she ran inside the classroom, telling Anon to hold the door. He knew her from the show he had seen before. He knew her from the time he played online with a team of strangers. He knew her, and that was, suddenly, frightening. She wore the same revealing sweater, cargo pants, high boots, she had piercings and tattoos, she had this cheeky and buoyant voice that can be turned into a raspy growl and scream. When he thought that nothing will happen today, when he thought that his belief was just a paranoia induced thought, Anon was hit with the biggest bomb of surprise.

But he didn't show the mix of feelings he felt. Anon mechanically nodded, removed the bag from the seat so she would sit down. Anon returned to music, immediately forgetting about the student beside him. She settled her bag and looked at Anon, the nonchalancy of which had clearly surprised her for a bit. He sat like a true American psycho : eyes closed, ears clogged, fully on himself and in his world. She took out her phone, tapped out a quick message to her mom, hid the phone back and continued gazing onto Anon. Her staring continued for a good amount of time, around four minutes, and all this time Anon didn't give a last fuck. Soon, she came curious about what his desk pal was listening to.

— What are you listening to? – she asked.

She thought that he would take out his earbud and ask what she wanted, so she would ask again and begin a proper conversation. To her surprise, Anon, whose name was unknown to her, whipped out his phone and showed her the screen, displaying the player and the track he was listening to. She looked for a second, then asked:

— Gridlink? What are those?

— Technical grindcore. – Anon responded.

— Oh... – she pronounced prolongedly.

Anon opened his eyes, took out his earbuds, and placed them into the case. She felt a bit sorry that she disturbed him, but her curiosity was a bit hard to contain. Anon began doomscrolling, still not giving a fuck. Then it struck her – she forgot to do her homework. She took out her notebook, looked at Anon, thinking whether to ask him or not, and then said:

— Did you do homework?

He looked back.

— Depends. – he said and straightened. – What did you forget?

— Maths... – she answered, looking at her new buddy with pleading eyes.

Anon nodded, searched around his bag, took out his math notebook, and gave it to her. She thanked him and opened the notebook. And then froze. Anon's handwriting was one of the most beautiful she has ever seen. The numbers and letters look even, all the pages were clean, all the themes were divided. Blue and black on white. She looked at the pages for a good minute, before clicking back and, smiling, beginning to write everything down.

— You have some beautiful handwriting. – She said.

— Thanks. – Anon replied.

It took her about fifteen minutes to write everything down from Anon's to her notebook. She returned his notebook, thanking him again. As he tossed the notebook back inside his bag, she looked at him, thinking different things. Like how he looks familiar. Like how he sounds familiar. Like how robotic he moved his finger while doomscrolling. To say the least, she was interested.

— You seem to be a lonely type, aren't you? – she asked.

— No, I've made some friends here. – Anon replied and looked back at her. – Only two though.

She smiled at the given opportunity.

— Well, let me be third then! – She said and held out her hand. – Name's Nick!

— Anon. – Anon said and shook her hand, completely hidden in his grasp.

— Anon, huh? What a weird name. I dig it.

Their small talk, with the most awkward start and the most unknown future, turned into a proper conversation. In talking to him, Nick noticed how cautious he was with his words, leaving some things unclear, as if he was testing the soil of this new friendship. In talking to her, Anon noticed her impressive confidence and cheekiness, how reliable and open she was, how trustful she looks – he could tell her all the secrets and fears, and she would hold them like a good steel safe.

Soon, the “activity period” ended. Anon and Nick got up from their seats and took their bags.

— Where are you heading now? – Nick asked.

— To the cafeteria. – Anon answered. – Why are you asking?

— Oh, sweet! – Nick said with yet another smile, ignoring his question. – I'm with you, got really hungry in here. And I want you to meet my friends!

They walked the hallways side to side, blabbing about a myriad of different things. Their feet moved in unison, almost resonating. Anon felt weird: he thought that getting to her would be an incredibly hard process of breaking a mental barrier after a mental barrier, carefully moving forward with accurate words, clinging on the smallest available things, – but Nick was open, without barriers, basically saying “ here I am, in my entirety! ” to Anon, her new fledged friend. As if she herself wanted to get to him, to become friends, as if he was the one she was looking for all her life. Still, Anon wouldn't let down his constant caution, because it all can be a facade to get him.

They got down to the first floor and made their way to the cafeteria. Loud and crowded, it remained the same. It would be the same even on weekends. – Anon thought. He and Nick joined the line, took their trays, filled them with food and found a fully empty table. Just seeing one was pretty anomalous. Nick sat down, settling the tray on the table, then quickly took out her phone and began tapping away. Anon, sitting down, didn’t care, he began eating immediately.

The figure of Nick was one real paradox. All these tattoos, piercings, her gaze and even her outwear – all of her attributes show her carnivorous nature. And yet she is here, eating with Anon, who became a new friend for her. And it all started from her asking what music he was listening to. For Anon, that question made sense – since the band Nick was in was playing grindcore, and Anon’s taste made him a figure that can relate a bit more than others.

Nick began eating. She was really hungry, as he devoured almost everything there was on the tray. The thing that stopped her was an audio cue – a powerful whistle that pierced through this matter of noise like nothing. She looked behind herself, then raised and began waving her hand like a flag. Soon, Anon noticed two figures power walking to the table: a light pink and a light velvet dinosaurs. They sat at the other two figures.

— Whew! – the light pink dino said. – All ‘em subjects really got me wind up!

— You got it easier, Curtis. – the light velvet dino replied. – My teacher was pretty rough on me this time.

— How so?  – the light pink dino named Curtis said.

— Well, you know we left a bit before, right? – the light velvet dino named Trent replied.

— Yeah..?

— So, she got mad at me because I asked to leave fifteen minutes before my train. She said I “deceived” her. “Deceived her” my ass – I was already done! 

— Just forget it. It’s just her senility kicking in.

— Whatever…

And only then they found out about the presence of the fourth figure – that was Anon, who was finishing his meal and tried to care about their presence as little as he could.

— And who’s this little boyo? – Curtis asked Nick.

— That’s Anon. – Nick answered.

— Anon? – Trent said. – What a weirdo name.

— Nah, his name’s nice! – Curtis said. – Definitely unique!

— Whatever. How did he get here? – Trent said, keeping a pretty hostile tone.

— Well, we were sharing music classes. – Nick said. – And a desk. He was listening to some music, I asked him what kind, and after a bit of talk I got him here!

Trent looked at Anon, who now was on his phone, caring less than a rock, with a bit of an interrogative look.

— I don’t know. I don’t like him. – He then said, looking at Nick.

— Oh, aren’t you a pessimist, Trent? You got wind up from nothing! – Nick said. – Anon’s fine, totally fine! Curtis, back me up here!

— Yeah! I don’t see a problem with a human around our party.

Trent sighed.

— Whatever. – he said, prolonged, with a grudge.

Only now Anon rose his gaze to examine the group. The singular thought crossed his mind in and out – they are all so similar. He has seen a drummer who considered him a bro from the get go. He has seen a guitarist (or a bassist?) who held a personal grudge against him. Everything could’ve matched up, if not for Nick and her radiance of this cheeky friendly energy she had. And because of that little mismatch he doesn’t feel pain comparing them to the figures from his past.

— Trent really aren’t liking you, but don’t fret! – Curtis said, keeping a smile. – It’ll all pass by!

Trent didn’t respond.

— It’s a-okay. – Anon finally said. – I’ve dealt with people like him before.

Suddenly, Curtis looked at Anon with a thinking look. For Curtis, Anon’s voice was strangely familiar, but he had problems remembering when and where he had heard him before. He searched in and out in his memory, and found one where he was playing a competitive match with his friends, but wasn’t sure if that was Anon who he had heard at the end of the line. Curtis, to prove his doubts, decided to ask:

— Aren’t you the guy who was playing with us yesterday?

Anon raised his gaze from the phone onto Curtis, thought for a second, then, nodding, replied:

— Yeah, that was me.

A second of pure silence arose between him and Curtis. Curtis looked at Anon tensely, as if he was about to say something that will hurt Anon in his guts. The next second, Curtis began to hysterically laugh. His voice was bouncing off the walls, the tall ceiling, and even the bodies of students, who looked back at Curtis unsure of what was happening. Curtis was laughing for eight seconds straight, then calmed down and with a widest smile, looking into Anon’s eyes, said:

— The world is a really tiny place, ain’t it?!

Anon was surprised over Curtis’s reaction, and so didn’t answer. Curtis sighed in relief.

— No, seriously! I would never in my life think that it was you who was playing with us! You literally carried our asses through that match!

— Did I?

— Yeah you did! Ace after ace, you just fucking demolished those kids on the enemy team! – Curtis said. – Nick? Do you remember the clutch he did at the fourteenth round? 

— Yeah I do! One versus four, and he pulled it off! – Nick said.

All this time, Trent was silent, sitting with a drooped gaze deep inside his own thoughts. Anon looked at him, thinking he was asleep.

— Trent, you alright? – Anon asked.

— Yeah, I am. – Trent replied, then raised his gaze at his team. – And yeah, you really carried us in this one. – He then smiled. – Hell, I got a rank up from that match.

They continued talking about the moments of the match, slowly delving into music. And the continuous talk changed into a three versus one questioning. With the questioned one being Anon. They asked him about a ton of different things, mainly revolving around his music tastes and music knowledge. All of the questions were always followed up with “you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to”, which shows how friendly and casual they are. Now comparing them to the high school figures is a completely ridiculous move.

Then, after Anon answered yet another question, Curtis raised a finger, then took out his phone, tapped away and gave it to Anon. The screen displayed a paused video. Anon raised his gaze at Nick and Curtis.

— It’s our newest music clip. – Curtis explained. – We spent a lot of time, and you’ll be the one who will judge it.

Anon looked down, feeling dread and fear. He experienced this before. I’ve been recording our practices , – recoiled inside his mind. He was nervous, with his mind filled with a singular thought – it all is the same. No matter how much he ran away, no matter how much he hid himself, the past would always catch up to him, always shove him inside the dirt of his inactions, showing the result, the phantom smile and a stretched wing behind a glass panel of his window.

Anon felt Nick and Curtis looking at him, waiting, expecting. Those looks made him even more nervous, since he knew these looks. They were the same. He can’t fuck up now, he doesn’t have any room for error. He will watch the video and then he will say what he thinks. Anon looked back at the screen. The video was waiting. Anon pressed onto the “Play” button.

He was met with a really well directed music clip. The title of the video read: tennant_sick . Curtis wasn’t lying when he was saying Anon will be the first one who will watch it. The camera was always jittering around, the shots changed at a fast pace, matching the music. Nick’s vocals were fiery, aggressive, as if she held a personal grudge against the entire world. Trent was too focused on playing his parts. And Curtis was barely tired from playing so fast and so intense.

The video was over before Anon knew it. Couple of seconds later, he held out the phone back to Curtis and said:

— Really like how crisp it all sounds.

— Yeah, we did an upgrade since the last EP. – Nick said. – We actually recorded in a proper place.

— And by a “proper place” she means my apartment when my parents are out. – Curtis said.

— What if they were there when we were recording? – Trent asked.

— They would kill you and me. – Curtis said.

— Why you, though? – Anon asked.

— Because they only barely managed to tolerate me practicing inside my room. – Curtis said, then sighed. – Only if I could get to play in a proper place…

— Well, we got a studio now, Curtis, – Nick said, – so that problem came and went. Forget it! At least now you wouldn’t fuck their midday sleep over!

Trent chuckled.

— Anon, you’ll be around for a while now, right? – Nick asked.

— Yeah. Why are you asking?

— Why don’t you come with us to the studio? We would show you how we play and things.

— Nick, it’s forty minutes of walking. – Trent said.

— Stop crying, Trent. At least you’ll get into shape.

Curtis chuckled. Trent opened his mouth to say something, only to then shut it with a click.

Soon, the bell rang, and the band had to separate. Curtis and Trent went off to the second floor, while Anon and Nick made it all the way up to fourth. The following period was physics related, Anon forgot its name, and Nick didn’t look like she knew it had a name at all. They made it inside, took a desk, and prepared for the upcoming lecture. After that, Anon spent the little remaining time sitting in his phone reading something, and Nick just sat, face down on a desk, almost certainly sleeping.

The bell rang once again. The professor closed the door, handled everyone a sheet of paper. A lab work. Anon wanted to just fall down onto the desk and begin sleeping like Nick did a couple of minutes ago. But Nick looked rather enthusiastic about it. It wasn’t something maniacal or mechanical, rather human; she means her feelings. Anon looked down at his sheet, thinking to himself – sometimes, I can’t get a read on her .

Nick and Anon began working. Slowly and steadily, back and forth, they progressed through the sheet, barely experiencing any issues. Anon noticed that Nick knows a fair bit of science, which is yet another point to her paradoxal being. He was interested, but thinking too much about every single contradiction inside her being, aside from the test they are taking right now and the fact he knows less than a grain of dust of information about her, was just painful, and so Anon focused as much as he could on solving this puzzle.

The professor, an old dino man in a lab hat, silently approached their table.

— So far you two understand everything? – he asked.

— Yeah, we do. – Nick said.

The professor looked at Anon, too delved into solving a hard problem.

— Anon? – the professor said.

— What my partner in this demise has said. – Anon replied, mechanically, not even looking at the professor.

The professor stood for a second or two, thinking over Anon’s response, then returned to his table. Nick looked at Anon with a cheeky look and a smile.

— Groovy you . – she said.

— Cut me some slack, I don’t know your pronouns. – Anon replied, sharp.

The word repelled her a bit. Pronouns? Was Anon brainwashed by this bullshit? – she thought. – Also how sharply he answered… It isn’t that he doesn’t like me around. Or does he? Maybe I got too close too soon, and got my feet on a closed off territory? Whatever. I need to clean this mess up a bit, calm him down.

— I am… she/her . – Nick said, a bit hesitant. – And has been since I was born.

Anon only nodded, not caring much. And even then he wouldn’t care. What’s up with him? – Nick thought. She looked at him, concentrated on the paper, for a few more seconds, then returned her gaze back to her sheet. They returned to their typical pace of completing the work, and soon were done.

 

***

 

For them that science period was the last one, and so they waited outside the university on a bench for Trent and Curtis. It was cold, Anon barely cared that his ears were already taken by frost, but Nick was looking like she was about to freeze entirely. She just had to sit closer to him, as if he emitted warmth. There was no sign of love, just a strive to not freeze her pussy off.

She felt weird, as if there was something unsaid, unfinished. Why doesn’t he talk much? Why is he always so repellant? And why did he ask for pronouns? Why, why, why… So many questions, and barely any answers. This moment of loneliness, when they await on a cold bench in a gray city beside a psychedelically colorful building of their university, – this little moment could be used to get some answers, and so Nick asked:

— Why did you ask for my pronouns?

Anon didn’t even raise his gaze from the phone. She looked at him, and saw a stoned face, resembling no particular emotion. If one could get in federal prison for just their face, Anon would be there for forever.

— A thing from my past. – Anon replied, hesitant.

— You had to deal with someone who was in this shit? – Nick continued.

— Yeah.

— Do you know them?

— Of course I do.

— Where are they now?

The question echoed with a pain inside Anon’s shin. He didn’t expect this turnabout to happen at all. At least he had expected some other questions before this one. And yet it did happen, and yet the question was voiced, and now he, hiding his pain, must answer, so the pain, and the thoughts, wouldn’t expand.

— In a… better place. – he said, trying to be cryptic.

Nick kept the words inside her head. She will find out what he means by them soon.

Soon, Trent and Curtis joined them, removing this weird melancholy towering over Nick and Anon. The waiting stood up, and soon the crew left the scene, slowly proceeding over on the streets. Trent was blabbing all around with Nick, while Curtis accompanied Anon in a prolonged and resourceful semi-philosophical discussion about the nature of video game skins and whether their existence is a bad thing or not. Anon was surprised that Curtis knew a fair bit about games and their history. Curtis was surprised that Anon knew a fair bit about videogames and their history too, and thus was able to question and push back whenever Curtis said something that Anon thinks is outrageously stupid. And this little conversation only strengthened their building relationship.

In these conversations, they didn’t notice how they reached the needed street. Nick and Curtis looked around, then began leading Trent and Anon behind. Now, Nick was talking with Curtis. Anon expected a conversation with Trent, but he was silent as a snake in tall grass. He wasn’t looking particularly interested in Anon. Maybe he even thinks he’s nothing more than a player, who just desires to get some attention. In any way, Trent had this “prove me you are worthy” look on his face, and Anon saw it clearly.

The crew made its way to the studio. At first, Anon didn’t see anything besides a concrete staircase leading to what is a public cellar. But how nonchalantly, while continuously blabbing about a myriad of different things, the group was descending, definitely got him thinking.

— Alright, give me a sec. – Curtis said, standing at a really sturdy looking door, and then began searching himself all around for a key.

A couple of seconds later, he raised his gaze to others.

— Who has the key? – he asked.

Trent and Nick began searching around their pockets. Soon, Nick pulled out a little piece of shining stainless steel, gave it to Curtis. He opened the door and went inside. Everyone else soon followed him. They left their coats and boots at the doorstep near a little cheap hanger, made their way inside, pushing all the light switches they could find on the wall. Soon, the group reached a blank open space. Cold walls, coated gray, looked a bit hostile. On the floor were musical instruments – two guitars, a bass. Even a microphone on a stand. A bit further away, a powerful looking drumset was standing on the laminate floor, all covered in microphones.

— And here we are. – Nick said to Anon.

 Trent and Curtis immediately got to their instruments. Nick stood beside, then joined in too. Soon, the instruments and necessary apparatus were up and running, and the band was ready to play. Curtis measured out the beat on the snare drum, and the moment later everyone was playing. This wall of noise, to Anon’s surprise, was incredibly crisp and clear, he could hear all the individual instruments. He looked around.

Curtis, as he has seen before, wasn’t too tired with playing the drums. From this distance, Anon spotted how he was playing – instead moving his wrist every single time to hit the drum, he only moved it once to push it and once to pull it back. A push-pull technique, played by an experienced drummer. Yet another reason why technique matters a bit more than physique.

Meanwhile, Trent and Nick were playing together on two guitars. Trent was playing rhythmic parts; Nick was playing lead melody and solos. Only now Anon noticed that she was playing left-handed on a left-handed guitar. This little detail made her playing even more impressive. If she’s right-handed, then it’s just outstanding.

Before he knew it, the band stopped playing. All their gazes looked expectantly at Anon; to them he only nodded and smiled, which made Nick and Curtis smile too. Curtis left his drums to discuss something with Nick, meanwhile Trent, all of a sudden, approached Anon.

— So, you know a bit about music, I get it. But can you actually play?

Not even two words into her conversation with Curtis, Nick sharply turned her head to Trent.

— Trent, where is this going? – she asked him.

— As of now, nowhere. I just want to know if he can back up his words!

— Oh, come on, you’re ruining this! – Curtis said.

— If he got time to talk about music, he got time to play some! – Trent said, a bit angrier.

— Trent, he will just leave. Stop this, now. – Nick said, looking rather irritated.

Anon felt like he needed to step in. But he knew this before, and he knew that stepping into other’s dialogues, moreso personal ones, isn’t a proper thing to do. But he was curious about all these people, and maybe, just maybe, they silently encouraged him to act.

— I can play guitar. – Anon said.

All gazes turned to him. Curtis looked melancholically understanding, Nick looked worried, Trent looked rather approving.

— Show us then. – Trent said, then turned to Nick. – Nick, can you give your guitar?

Anon approached Nick. She looked worried. Definitely not something she wanted to do nor wanted to witness.

— Look, you really don’t need to do this. – Nick said. – He’s just fucking around with you, you shouldn’t abide his card.

— It’s nothing. – Anon said, trying to reassure her. – I’ll show him. Just give me the guitar.

The confidence in Anon’s speech removed a bit of worry Nick was experiencing. She took off the guitar strap, handled the guitar to him.

— It’s for lefties though. – Nick said. – It would be harder.

— It’s just about positioning of strings, nothing more.

Anon put on the strap. Looking down on the strings, he counted them: seven. From the bottom, the thickest, to the top, the thinnest. He lied, reassuring Nick – it is much more than just the positioning of strings. It’s about positioning of hands and fingers on the board. But he wouldn’t let Trent just look at him like a pathetic nerd. He needs to prove himself in his eyes – this is the only way.

— I’ll support you on drums. – Curtis said and sat down at the drumset.

— What should I play? 

— Anything that comes to your mind. On you.

Anon was sucking a big one at improvising. Despite all the years of making jokes on 4-chan, none of these years matter when it comes to music. Because music requires something more than just fantasy to make words and notes connect into proper melody. What Anon wasn’t sucking a big one at was thoroughly and repeatedly listening and memorizing melodies and parts.

With no hesitation, Anon began playing a technical melody. Curtis, recognizing the melody, smiled at him.

— Oh, boyo! You… – Curtis said, then got interrupted by a necessary drum fill, then continued: – You actually know this shit!

Curtis knew the song Anon was playing. Not only Curtis – everyone knew. Their metallic heads knew about Katalepsy and their discography. Anon looked at Trent, and saw an approving, fatherly smile on his face; a second later he joined Anon in this song. Followed up by Nick, who wasn’t experiencing any worries. It was a proper jam session.

Anon imagined himself on a scene. Playing and jamming with her, who wasn’t here anymore. Her distant smile shines through the veil of forgettance fog. She wanted to play with him like this for a long time. She didn’t make it to this day, but she looks down upon him, jamming and destroying, beautifully nailing the solos and lightly moving each and every finger on the fretboard. She loves him, and her love shines through his play, commemorating her efforts and existence.

A couple of seconds after the song was finished, and there was nothing more than a hum and a memory, Curtis broke down in hysterical laughs, echoing through the blank space. Strangely enough, he worried about his mental state only now, as if the laugh he has heard before was just par for the course.

— GOD DAMN ! – Curtis yelled through the room. – You actually were packing heat!

— Impressive, really. – Trent said across the room, smiling at Anon.

Nick couldn’t find any words, she only smiled, but that smile (that damned smile – Anon thought), emitting happiness like Elephant Foot emits radiation, was more than enough of an answer.

— You NEED to be our second guitarist! – Curtis said, coming over to Anon.

Nick lost her smile, looked at Trent with worry, as if he was about to say something again. Trent looked back, dumbfounded.

— What? I’m not going to say anything. I’m fine with that.

— How did you know?! – Curtis said to Anon.

— Eh, was just browsing metal music, found the record, played it, got hooked. Saved it.

— No, I’m talking about the song!

— Oh. Well, I just listened to it so much I memorized the parts.

Curtis smiled even wider.

— Jesus, boyo, you really are something. Never thought you would actually do something like this, but you did! – Then he turned to others. – Guys, what do you think?

— We already thought. – Nick said. – Anon would be our second guitarist. Only if he wants to, of course.

Curtis looked back at Anon.

— What do you think? – Curtis asked.

— I’m in. – Anon answered, with no hesitation.

— Then it’s settled! – Curtis said. – Now we just need to have Abby on our team, and we’re done!

Anon didn’t know who Abby was or which role she would take in the scheme of this band. It didn’t matter. One goal out of many completed, Anon felt how hope grew in him slowly, how his personality was slowly reconstructing. The days coming in looked brighter than ever. There was no need for this repellence anymore, there was no need for this burdening protectiveness. He can open himself now – something he didn’t do in a long time. He doesn’t fear failing, because these three, Curtis, Trent and Nick, would be here to help him. As he would be here to help them.