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Themomenttheclockhittwo,Cradreushedopentheheavydoor.
ColdAChitherfirst—theoftubeampsrunning,andthehormohicksmellofboysmixedwithsweat.Theroomwasdim.Fourseniorboysandoneseniirlweresubmergedinarhythmsoviolentitfeltferal.
Crawalkedquietlytothecoueartheentrahergigbaguprightbesideher,aasharpgazeovertheband.
Thevocalistwasscreamingintothemic.Thedrummerhammeredabrutaldouble-kick,sweatflyinglikerainontothecymbals.
AndontherightsideoftheroomstoodElian.
Hewasn’tinuniformtoday—justasimpleoversizedbckT-shirt,thatbderhangingfromhisshoulder.Thecocky,carelessarrogancehe’dwornintheschoolbasemeerdaywasghtnow,hisfocuswassointeborderedonmadness.Hispickmovedataspeedtheeyecouldbarelytrack,hisstrummingablur—everysyncopationndingwithruler-straightprecision.
Crawatchedhisteique,andsomethinginherchestshifted.
She’dalwaysassumedElianwascalleda“genius”mostlybecauseofhisfwlessfadthehaloofbeingarichTianmukid—hypeinftedbyfangirls.
Butseeinghimupcloselikethis,sheuood:
hisguitarskillreallywasterrifying.
Ameri-styleheavyriffscarriedathick,aggressiveweight.Everybend,everymuteElianpyedcamewithakindantviolence,likehemeanttotearsomethingopen.
Andevenso,Cra’sbrowsstilldrewtogether.
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