Summary: This time as Reed mentioned he knows someone who may can be a drummer for the band it turns out he secretly was up for the task and at the end he joined to Trish and Fang into the band

The first light of dawn painted Fang's room in soft hues, the scattered papers around them a testament to a night of frenzied creativity and resolve. Their eyelids were heavy, the adrenaline that had fueled their post-nightmare productivity now replaced by an insistent tug of exhaustion. But the promise of a new day and the obligations it carried meant there was no room for surrender to sleep.

With a yawn that stretched their wings, Fang tidied the papers into a neat stack, casting a glance over the lyrics and plans that had spilled from their heart and mind in those vulnerable hours. They felt a twinge of pride amidst the fatigue; even their fears had become a source of inspiration.

The routine of getting ready for school was a blur, each action mechanical. The usual excitement to see what the day held was muted, overshadowed by the physical demand for rest. Grabbing a quick bite, barely tasting the food, Fang shouldered their backpack, the weight familiar and somewhat comforting.

The journey to school was quiet, the world around still shaking off the shroud of night. Fang's steps were automatic, their mind a whirlpool of melodies and lyrics, plans and worries, dreams and the remnants of a nightmare.

As they walked through the gates of Volcano High, the school was a bustle of activity, a stark contrast to their internal exhaustion. Friends called out greetings, and Fang responded with a smile that didn't quite reach their orange eyes, the fatigue evident.

Trish found them by their locker, her keen eyes quick to notice the sag in Fang's shoulders. "Rough night?" she inquired, concern knitting her brows.

Fang shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Just some last-minute inspiration. It's nothing a good day's work won't cure."

But Trish knew better. "You're overdoing it," she chided gently, her blue-purple eyes soft. "The showcase is important, but you can't burn out before we even get there."

"I know, I just..." Fang paused, the words catching in their throat. "I had this nightmare, and everything went wrong, and I had to fix it, had to write it..."

Understanding dawned on Trish's face. "Oh, Fang," she said softly, reaching out to squeeze their wing reassuringly. "It's just the jitters. We're prepared. And we're in this together, okay?"

Her words, simple yet laden with unwavering support, were a balm to Fang's frayed nerves. They managed a genuine smile, the first of the day. "Okay."

The bell rang, a signal for the start of another day of learning, of challenges and triumphs in the hallowed halls of their beloved school. Fang moved towards their first class, bolstered by Trish's faith. They were tired, yes, but the fire within, the passion for their music, their dreams — that was an inferno that no fatigue could dim.

And as they settled into their seat, papers shuffling and voices mingling into the familiar symphony of school life, Fang made a silent promise. They would rest, they would take care, but they wouldn't stop — not until their music reached every corner of that auditorium, not until their dreams were fully, gloriously, undeniably alive.

 

Fang's morning classes seemed to stretch on interminably, each minute ticking by like molasses. The vibrant discussions, usually a source of enthusiasm, now washed over them like white noise, their brain too fogged with fatigue to engage. They caught themselves nodding off multiple times, their head snapping up in panic, fearful of missing something crucial or, worse, drawing unwanted attention.

By the time lunch break loomed on the horizon, Fang was running on fumes, their energy sapped almost entirely by the battle to stay awake. But the thought of meeting Trish and Reed, of the solace found in shared dreams and friendship, spurred them on.

Trudging towards their usual meeting spot in the courtyard, Fang spotted their friends seated at their customary bench. Reed, ever observant, was the first to notice Fang's approach. His purple eyes narrowed in concern as he took in their disheveled appearance.

"You look like you wrestled with a nightmare, and it won," Reed commented, shifting to make space for Fang.

"Something like that," Fang admitted with a half-hearted chuckle, collapsing onto the bench with a grateful sigh.

Trish, who had been mid-sentence, paused and scrutinized Fang. "You didn't sleep much, did you?" she asked, an edge of worry in her tone.

Fang shook their head, recounting the previous night's terror and the subsequent compulsion to transform fear into art. As they spoke, the fatigue seemed to lift slightly, their burden lessening as they shared it with their friends.

Both Trish and Reed listened intently, not interrupting, acknowledging the weight of Fang's words. When Fang finished, the pair exchanged a glance, a silent communication that spoke volumes of their years of friendship.

"Okay, first, that's hardcore," Reed started, a hint of his usual humor glinting in his eyes, "turning a nightmare into art. But you're no good to us dead on your feet. You need to take care of yourself, Fang."

Trish nodded in agreement. "Your health is important. We need the whole, energetic, snarky you for the showcase. Not...this," she gestured vaguely to Fang's exhausted form, "sleep-deprived zombie."

Their words, laced with affectionate reprimand, were a gentle anchor back to reality for Fang. They knew their friends were right. In their pursuit of perfection, they'd neglected the most fundamental aspect — their well-being.

"Okay, you've both made your point," Fang conceded, rubbing at their eyes with the heels of their hands. "I'll try to catch some sleep tonight. Promise."

"That's all well and good," Reed interjected, "but you need to rest now. Even a short nap can help. We'll cover for you in the afternoon classes."

Fang wanted to protest, to insist they were fine, but the truth was evident in the bone-deep weariness they felt. With a grateful smile, they acquiesced. "Thanks, guys. I owe you one."

Leaning back on the bench, Fang let their eyes drift shut, the distant chatter of their schoolmates and the gentle warmth of the sun lulling them into a much-needed rest. Trish and Reed sat sentinel, a protective presence, their quiet conversation a comforting backdrop as Fang slipped into sleep.

In this moment, amidst the trials and tribulations of dreams pursued, Fang was reminded of a vital truth — that friendship wasn't just shared laughter and joys, but also shared burdens and rest found in each other's strength.

 

The shrill ring of the bell shattered the tranquility of the courtyard, jerking Fang from their brief respite. They blinked against the sunlight, momentarily disoriented, the aftereffects of the nap mingling with the remnants of exhaustion. But there was a noticeable difference — the weight that had pressed down on their eyelids was lighter now, the fog in their brain not as thick.

"You alive there, Fang?" Reed's voice teased, though his eyes were scanning Fang's face for any sign that they weren't okay to continue the day.

"More alive than I was before, thanks," Fang replied, pushing themselves into a more upright position. They took in a deep breath, feeling their lungs expand with the crisp air, and exhaled slowly, gathering themselves.

Trish was already gathering her things, a stern but caring expression on her face. "Don't push it, okay? If you need to, talk to your teachers about maybe sitting out the more hands-on stuff today."

Fang nodded, appreciating her concern. "I'll keep that in mind."

Together, the trio made their way back to the school building, joining the flow of students heading to their next classes. The hallways buzzed with the typical midday energy, conversations and laughter bouncing off the walls. Amidst it all, Fang found a sense of normalcy, the routine a comforting embrace that helped anchor them further into wakefulness.

As they split off to go to their respective classes, Fang felt a surge of gratitude for their friends. Their insistence on self-care was a reminder that Fang didn't have to face everything alone — that their dreams, while personal, were supported by a community that wanted to see them succeed just as much as they did.

In class, Fang did their best to concentrate, the lectures a bit easier to follow now that they'd had some rest. They participated where they could, though their teachers seemed to understand that they weren't quite at full capacity, offering them patience and the occasional knowing smile. It was a small school, and the teachers were perceptive; they cared about their students beyond just the academic expectations.

The rest of the school day passed in a blur. Fang was present but also conserving energy, mindful of their need to recover fully. When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the day, there was a sense of relief. They made plans with Trish and Reed to meet up in the music room the next day, fully intending to get a proper night's rest before then.

On the walk home, Fang's mind drifted back to their music, the upcoming showcase, and the dreams that seemed so close yet so vulnerable to the chaos of life. But with each step, their resolve strengthened. They were Fang, a pterodactyl with dreams as high as the skies they longed to soar in, and a little turbulence wasn't going to keep them grounded for long.

 

The walk home was a quiet affair, the streets bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows that danced with every step Fang took. The rhythmic beat of their footsteps seemed in sync with their heartbeat, a soothing consistency that allowed them time to gather their thoughts.

As they approached their house, the familiar structure was a welcome sight, an abode of comfort and familiarity. The front door seemed to welcome them back, a silent witness to their highs and lows. Upon entering, Fang was immediately greeted by the comforting smell of home, a mixture of warmth, safety, and a hint of whatever meal had been cooked earlier.

"Naser?" Fang called out, expecting their sibling to be around. The house was quiet, save for the subtle creaks and groans it made as it settled for the evening.

"In here," came the muffled reply from the living room.

Fang found Naser sprawled on the couch, an array of books and papers spread out before him on the coffee table, evidence of a study session — or perhaps an attempt at one. His orange eyes lifted to meet Fang's, and he frowned slightly. "You look beat," he observed, concern edging his tone.

"Yeah, it's been a long day," Fang admitted, joining Naser on the couch but mindful not to disturb his setup.

"Rough time at school?"

Fang sighed, recounting the day's struggle to stay awake in classes, the nap during lunch, and the persistent anxiety about the upcoming music showcase. Naser listened intently, his expression a mix of sympathy and understanding.

"You're working yourself too hard," Naser said after Fang finished, echoing the sentiment of Fang's friends. "You're passionate, and that's great. But you're no good to anyone if you're running on empty."

Fang chuckled wearily, "Why does everyone keep telling me that?"

"Probably because it's true," Naser pointed out with a wry smile. "And because we care about you, dummy."

The endearment, spoken with such familial affection, warmed Fang's heart. "I know," they conceded. "I'll try to take it easier. Promise."

"Good," Naser nodded, satisfied with their response. "And start with a good night's sleep tonight, okay?"

Fang agreed, the mere thought of their bed a heavenly prospect. They chatted a little while longer, discussing Naser's studies and other mundane, comforting topics. After a light dinner, Fang trudged to their room, the events of the day weighing heavily on their shoulders despite the nap they'd taken.

They didn't bother with their usual nighttime routine, too tired for anything more than the bare essentials. Collapsing into bed, Fang barely had the energy to pull the covers up before they were surrendering to sleep, their mind finally quieting as they drifted off.

The house settled around them, a sanctuary for two siblings, each with their dreams and burdens. Outside, the stars emerged, guardians in the night sky, silent witnesses to the hopes and fears of the ones below. In the safety of their home, with the ones they loved nearby, Fang could rest, recharge, and ready themselves for the challenges and triumphs that awaited.

 

The first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle light across Fang's room. The tranquility of the morning was a stark contrast to the previous day's exhaustion, and for a moment, Fang simply lay there, enjoying the peaceful transition between sleep and wakefulness.

Their phone buzzed quietly on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a new message notification. Rubbing the sleep from their eyes, Fang reached for it, curiosity piqued. The name flashing on the screen was "Trish," and Fang unlocked their phone to read the message:

"Morning, early bird! Reed and I are heading to school super early to snag some extra time in the music room. Wanna join? Could use the extra practice, and I know you’re just as psyched about this as we are! 😊 -T"

Fang's lips curled into a small smile, heartened by Trish's infectious enthusiasm so early in the morning. They glanced at the clock, noting they had enough time to get ready and still catch up with their friends before classes started. With a newfound energy, they rolled out of bed, their mind already whirring with melodies and lyrics.

After a quick shower and getting dressed, Fang grabbed their backpack and headed to the kitchen. They scribbled a note for Naser, letting him know they'd gone to school early and would see him there. Breakfast was a hurried affair, but Fang made sure to eat something substantial, mindful of their promise to take better care of themselves.

The walk to school was brisk in the cool morning air, the streets quiet save for the occasional car and the chirping of early birds. The sun was just a bit higher in the sky now, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink. The world felt fresh, renewed, and Fang's step had a bounce that hadn't been there the day before.

Upon arriving at school, Fang spotted Trish and Reed's familiar forms through the window of the music room, the two of them already lost in a world of harmonies and rhythms. Fang pushed the door open, the sound of their entry drawing the attention of their friends.

"Look who decided to join the dawn patrol," Reed quipped with a grin, but his eyes were bright, and Fang could tell he was glad they'd come.

"Fang! Yes! Come on, we were just going through a new arrangement Reed thought of," Trish beckoned excitedly, already making space for Fang among the scattered sheets of music.

The room was a haven, filled with various instruments, music stands, and the ever-present air of creativity. It was their shared sanctuary, a place where dreams didn't seem so far-fetched, where ambition and talent met in a beautiful, chaotic dance.

Fang settled in quickly, the events of the previous day seeming distant as they tuned their instrument. The trio dove into practice, the music a language all its own, filling the room and spilling into the halls. They lost track of time, caught up in the melodies, the harmonies, and the sheer joy of creating something together.

By the time other students started filtering into the school, they had run through their set multiple times, each rendition a little tighter, a little more in sync. They were ready, Fang realized. They were going to perform, and they were going to be amazing.

The bell signaling the start of classes rang then, a reminder of the world beyond their music. Packing up, the friends shared a look of mutual understanding and excitement — a silent agreement of the wonderful things to come.

 

The day passed in a blur of anticipation for Fang, their mind often drifting to the after-school meeting Reed had insisted on. They couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious drummer Reed had alluded to. The thought bubbled in the back of their mind, even as they navigated the day's lessons and interactions.

When the final bell rang, Fang and Trish found each other amidst the sea of students, their mutual curiosity drawing them together as they headed towards the music room.

"Do you have any idea who Reed was talking about?" Fang asked, unable to keep the question to themselves any longer.

Trish shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. "No idea. Knowing Reed, it could be anyone from school... or he found some professional drummer wandering the streets!"

They both chuckled at the idea, but their laughter couldn't dispel the butterflies of excitement in their stomachs. The prospect of adding a new member to their band, especially a drummer, was thrilling and held the promise of new dynamics in their music.

Pushing open the door to the music room, they found Reed already there, casually strumming on a guitar. But the room was devoid of any new faces, no sign of this mysterious drummer.

"Reed, where's this drummer you hyped up?" Trish inquired, looking around the room with exaggerated scrutiny.

"Yeah, we've been curious all day!" Fang added, trying to decipher any clues from Reed's expression.

Reed set down his guitar, a smirk growing on his face as he stood and dramatically pointed a thumb at himself. "You're looking at him!"

For a moment, Trish and Fang just stared at him, and then, as the realization dawned, they burst into hearty laughter. Reed, though slightly flushed, was grinning too, clearly pleased with his little stunt.

"Wait, wait... You? You're going to drum for us?" Fang managed between giggles, the image of Reed, their pink velociraptor friend, sitting behind a drum set was amusingly endearing.

"Gotcha!" Reed laughed, basking in their reaction. "I've been practicing in secret for months. Wanted to surprise you guys when I got good enough!"

The laughter eventually subsided, but the smiles remained plastered on their faces. The room felt lighter, the energy infectious, and Fang felt a surge of affection for their friends.

"Well then, Mr. Secret Drummer, show us what you've got!" Trish challenged, excitement sparkling in her eyes.

Reed, confidence radiating, took his place behind the drum set in the corner of the room. He picked up the sticks with a flourish and, after a deep breath, began to play. The rhythm was solid, the beats resonating in the space, filling it with a pulsing energy that Fang and Trish could feel in their bones.

As Reed played, any remnants of skepticism melted away. His timing was impeccable, and he played with a passion that spoke volumes of the hours he must have spent practicing. Fang and Trish exchanged impressed glances, then joined in with their instruments, the sounds melding together in harmonious unity.

The music they created that afternoon was different, more complete. Reed's drumming added a backbone to their melody, a steady pulse that drove their music forward. They played until the sun dipped low in the sky, the first stars beginning to twinkle in the dusk as they packed up.

"Reed, that was amazing," Fang admitted as they readied to leave, sincerity lacing their words.

"Yeah, you really had us there. Welcome to the band, drummer boy!" Trish added, her voice warm with praise.

Reed's cheeks were tinged with a modest blush, but his smile was wide and uncontainable. "Thanks, guys. I'm glad I could surprise you. This is going to be awesome!"

And as they stepped out into the cool evening air, their laughter mingling with the twilight, Fang knew that whatever the future held for their little band, they were ready to face it together. Music, after all, was about harmony, and they'd found theirs in the most unexpected of places.

 

The rhythmic beating of the drums, the soulful melodies from the strings, and the harmonious chords from the keyboard filled the music room, creating an atmosphere that was almost magical. Outside, the darkness had settled in, the city lights twinkling like stars grounded to the earth. Inside, however, Trish, Reed, and Fang were creating their own universe, one where music was the cosmic language.

As they hit the final note of their latest song, the room hummed with the echo of their music, the vibrations tingling in their fingertips, a testament to the energy they'd just unleashed.

"Wow," Fang breathed out, their chest heaving slightly from the intensity of their performance. "That felt amazing."

Trish nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling even in the low light. "It's like... we've reached a whole new level, you know?"

Reed, still seated at his drum set, twirled his drumsticks between his fingers. "Playing at night definitely has its vibes. It's like the world quiets down and it's just us and the music."

They all shared a contemplative silence, feeling the weight of Reed's words. There was a unique kind of intimacy in sharing their music when the rest of the world had dimmed for the night.

However, the spell was broken by the sudden flickering of the lights overhead, a stark reminder that they were still in school and it was getting late.

"We should probably pack up," Fang suggested reluctantly, not wanting to break the camaraderie but knowing they couldn't stay in the school all night.

As they began to pack away their instruments, the room filled with the sounds of cases snapping shut and cables being coiled. Yet, the energy from their practice session lingered in the air, a silent promise of more to come.

"Same time tomorrow?" Reed asked, hoisting his backpack over one shoulder.

"Wouldn't miss it," Trish replied, her smile wide.

Fang nodded in agreement, their heart full. "Absolutely."

They made their way through the dimly lit corridors of Volcano High, the school seemingly different under the cover of night; the once bustling hallways were now serene, their footsteps echoing softly against the lockers.

As they reached the exit, they were greeted by the cool night air, the city sounds in the distance a gentle reminder of life beyond their musical haven. They stood together for a moment, basking in the afterglow of a night well spent.

"See you guys tomorrow," Fang said, a contented sigh escaping their lips.

"Get home safe," Trish called out as they began to part ways, each heading to their respective homes.

The walk home was quiet for Fang, but their mind was loud with melodies still unplayed, lyrics still unwritten. The night may have ended, but the music — their passion — it never really stopped. And as they reached their door, a soft smile played on their lips.

This was just the beginning.