Archive of Our Own ^beta

Miles is almost tired of his friends. For the past month he’s been approached by Margo, Hobie and Pav asking him to form a band with all of them. It doesn’t matter how much he insists he doesn’t want to, they keep on asking. He really doesn’t want to, there’s too much schoolwork and other stuff to focus on. He’s not even a big punk music fan. Sure, getting to spend all this time with his friends would be cool, and playing guitar always seemed fun. He can think of a million reasons why being in a band would be fun. 

Maybe he wants to do it, but that doesn’t change how busy he is or how strict his parents are. He’s gone to concerts with Hobie and Gwen (without his parents’ knowledge, of course), he’s seen the places where they’re held. They wouldn’t think of letting him in there over their dead bodies. So really, it doesn’t matter if he wants to do it. Even if he really wants to.

Three weeks into the new semester, Miles is already flooded with work. He goes home for the weekend with a bunch of textbooks and papers due over the course of the next week. His plan for the next two days is to study, and he’ll see what’s after that.

Friday night and he’s in his room, listening to music and working on his AP English essay. Five pages on The Great Gatsby, easy enough. As long as he talks enough about the failings of the American dream, he’ll get a good grade. It’s easier to ignore the stack of physics, history and math homework all still waiting for him. It’ll be fine, as long as he focuses. 

His phone buzzes and Miles checks the message.

[From: Gwen, received 19:27]

Movie tonight?

He really shouldn’t. He has so much work to do. He has to spend a lot of time on school if he wants to keep his scholarship and if he cares about his future. This is important, way more important than anything else. Miles wants to go to a good college, Visions is a big part of his ticket there. He keeps telling himself to just focus on school, this can wait.

[To: Gwen, sent 19:31]

I’ll be there in thirty minutes

He gets his laptop and some snacks hidden in his room into a bag, lying to himself about maybe working on the essay at Gwen’s. Of course he won’t, but it’s nice to imagine he’ll do the responsible thing. He quickly gets dressed and puts on his shoes, and he’s right about to leave the house when he hears his mother.

“Miles? Where are you going? Didn’t you say you had an essay?” Rio asks.

“Oh, yeah. I’m going to study with Gwen. She also has tons of homework, we thought it could be fun to do them together. I’ll be home by midnight, I promise.”

“No, by ten.”

“Half past eleven?”

“Eleven, and that’s the best you’re getting. Go before I change my mind.”

“Thanks mom! See you tonight.” Miles hurries out the door and down the stairs, taking his mom’s warning fully seriously.

Twenty minutes later he’s knocking on Gwen’s door, and she swings it open.

“Hey! Come on in.” She almost drags Miles inside. “What’s with the bag?”

“Snacks and my laptop, I told my mom we’re doing homework. I have this essay in English and a bunch of other stuff.” Miles follows Gwen into the kitchen, getting the snacks out of his bag.

“That might actually be a good idea, my AP French class was just assigned this long essay I need to work on. What’s the curfew?”

“Eleven, I think I could push it fifteen minutes at best.” Miles shrugs. “They did not want me to go.”

“Aww, but you came anyway.” Gwen gives him a half teasing smile.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “So what are we watching?” He changes the subject quickly.

“I was thinking Coraline.”

“We’ve seen Coraline. Many times,” Miles complains. “Can I choose the movie?”

“Fine.” Gwen reaches to the high cabinet and gets a bag of popcorn, popping it into the microwave. “What do you wanna watch, Miles?”

“Back To The Future two,” he says, almost immediately.

“Jeez, that was fast. Why the second one?”

“It’s the best in the trilogy, obviously.”

“Right.” Gwen nods once. “Obviously.”

“Have you never seen the second Back To The Future?”

She shrugs. “No. Only the first.” Before Miles can express his shock, she adds: “But now I will, so it’s whatever.”

“I guess. I still can’t believe it.”

“Your problem.” Their popcorn is finished and Gwen takes the bag out, shaking it over the bowl before opening it. The salty butter smell quickly fills the small apartment. “My dad’s out at work, so we have the place to ourselves which is nice. We can watch the movie on the TV then do some homework, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” Miles nods and they go into the living room. Gwen turns on the TV while Miles opens the chips and settles on the couch. “Do you even have the movie?”

“Yeah, somewhere. I think my dad downloaded it once, he loves eighties movies.” Gwen laughs. She sits next to Miles and starts scrolling between all the movies saved to the television, until she finds the Back To The Future trilogy. The movie starts, and the two quiet down. The only sound in the apartment other than Marty McFly and Dr Emmett Brown is Miles and Gwen’s chewing. They relax as the movie goes on, heads leaning together slightly.

An hour and forty minutes later, the credits roll and Miles looks over at Gwen expectantly.

“So what’d you think?” 

“It was better than the first,” Gwen admits. “You were right.”

“Told you. I love that movie.”

“It was fun. The way they imagined 2015 was way off though.”

Miles laughs. “People in the past had too much hope for us, honestly.”

“Well, you have some time before you have to go home, right?” Gwen asks, taking the empty popcorn bowl to the kitchen. Miles checks the time, twenty to ten. “Wanna actually study a bit?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“We can go to the roof, there’s light up there and the weather’s nice.”

“Alright.” Miles grabs his laptop and waits for Gwen to get hers. They climb up to the roof of the building, and find a place to sit face to face on the floor, each opening their own computer to work. The wind is chill and the city lights around them blink on and off in various places; the sun set long ago but people are still out.

Thirty minutes of calm work later, Miles is done with his essay. Gwen is almost finished too, and while he waits he leans back on his palms and looks at the sky. Bits of gravel on the roof dig into his hands, but he doesn’t care. The sky is cloudy, the forecast predicted rain later that night. Miles can spot three stars in the sky, the rest are lost to light pollution. He takes a deep breath. Fresh air doesn’t really exist in these areas of New York, but up there is the freshest they’ll get.

“Okay, I’m done. What are you looking at?”

“Just the sky, I guess.”

Gwen looks up as well. “That cloud looks like a butt.” She points. Miles looks at where her hand is showing and he tilts his head. The cloud does look like a butt. He laughs. “How much time do you have until you need to go?”

“Like, ten minutes. I think.” He hardly knows what time it is anymore, and his butt hurts from sitting on the concrete roof.

“Has anyone told you about the band thing?”

“Everyone but you so far. I can’t do it.” Miles shrugs. “Too busy.”

“Bullshit. We’re all busy, you’re just scared.”

“Am not,” he scoffs.

“Are too. You won’t even give this a chance.”

“I am too busy,” Miles insists. “My school is super demanding, you know that.”

“Whatever you say, coward.”

“I’m not a coward.” He straightens up.

“Prove it.” She mimics him. “Try one practice, tell me it’s not fun as hell. Then I’ll stop calling you a coward. How about that?”

Gwen and Miles sit like this for a second, then two and then three. Gwen’s chin is raised, she’s calling Miles’s bluff. There’s this fire in her eyes and a tight smile on her lips. No one challenges Miles more than Gwen does, it’s always been like that with them.

“I’ll think about it,” he says slowly. “And that’s the best you’re getting from me.”

“I’ll take it. Let’s go, I’ll walk you home.” She gets up and brushes her clothes, Miles is quick to do the same. They go back to the apartment and he gets his things. It’s an easy walk to Miles’s, they can take their time. Gwen chats about her stupid AP French essay (or at least she claims it’s stupid), and Miles thanks god that he chose a language he already speaks, before Gwen reminds him he has a B in Spanish. He hits her shoulder lightly and she returns a harder hit. Then they both laugh, and it’s really easy. Being with Gwen is easy. They don’t have to talk, but they choose to. They know so much about each other but there’s still more things to learn. They don’t have to try, or be impressive, or be anything other than themselves. Really easy. It’s probably why he fell in love with her. It’s probably why he holds these feelings when things get hard, too. They understand each other on a level no one else really does. A level that doesn’t require words, or anything past a look and a touch. That’s why it’s easy, even when it’s not. 

They get to Miles’s building, and Gwen climbs the stairs with him. Their steps echo in the small room, the air is hot and heavy. They stop right outside the apartment and Miles checks the time, two minutes before eleven. He and Gwen stand there and look at each other, she’s calmer this time.

“One practice,” she says. Not a request, not a demand, a statement.

“One practice.” Miles nods. “Text me when you get home.”

Miles is hanging in his dorm when Peter calls. He and Hobie are supposed to meet up around an hour later at Hobie’s new temporary place. They’re going to talk about getting gigs for Brooklyn Thunder at places around Miles’ neighbourhood. Hobie took a real liking to the area and its close and colourful community, and Miles agreed to check some venues in the area. He knows at least a couple that host spoken word nights and other local alternative bands. He is excited to show the music he and his friends made to the community he grew up in, and has been unable to really rest. He does some schoolwork but his hands are too jittery to write and he keeps rapping his knuckles on the table until Ganke has to ask him to keep it down. He puts his headphones on instead, and lays down in his bed. Miles closes his eyes and lets himself sink into the rhythmic, melodious sound of Redbone by Childish Gambino. Just when he winds down, the music is interrupted by his phone ringing, and he sees Peter’s name on the screen.

He met Peter a little more than a year ago, around the time he met the rest of his band. Peter lived in a different area of Brooklyn, but joined a cause to stop a large company from buying several buildings in Miles’ neighbourhood and tearing them down to build a new office building there. They were both active in many protests and meetings of people active for the cause and developed a great platonic bond. Peter became one of the adults Miles felt he could trust when he couldn’t get along with his parents. When Aaron died, Peter was a great source of support for Miles, and from that point on served as a sort of mentor.

“Hey! What’s up?” Miles answers the phone.

“Hey kid, I was wondering if you could do me a small favour.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“There’s this art show MJ really wants to go to tonight, but our babysitter can’t take Mayday for the night, and it’d be great if you could watch over her for a few hours?”

“I can’t have a kid in my dorm, but I’m going to Hobie’s later to talk about some band stuff with him and Gayatri, so I guess we could all watch her together.” Miles slowly sits up in his bed.

“That sounds great, more people is better. She can be a bit too much to handle.” Peter laughs and Miles joins him.

“I know, but it’ll be fine. Your place is on the way to Hobie’s, when should I come pick her up?”

“Whenever you pass by is fine. The show is open for a long time.”

“Got it, I’ll be there in around twenty minutes.”

“Sounds good, I’ll get her bag ready. Thanks a lot kid, really.”

“It’s no problem, I love May.”

“See you soon, bye Miles.”

“Bye!” Miles hangs up and climbs down from the bunk bed to get his shoes on quickly. He grabs a jacket and leaves, bidding Ganke a quick goodbye. 

The way to Peter’s house is a breeze. The semester just started, and the fall air is warm and heavy. Almost like a sleep spell is cast over New York, but the city never sleeps. He passes people on their way home from work and school, and the traffic on the road is endless as always. The city is swarmed with the noises of car horns and nine million people living their lives as they do every day, and it’s a magic of its own. He walks through the busier parts of the cities until he reaches a suburb area and finds Peter’s home, knocking on the door. 

Mary Jane opens the door, holding May’s diaper bag in her hands. She smiles at Miles and rushes him in. Somewhere inside the house he hears May babbling nonsensically; Peter answers everything she says.

“Honey, Miles is here to pick her up,” MJ calls back to Peter. “And we need to head out soon.”

“She’s almost ready, no worries.” 

Peter quickly appears in the living room, holding May in both arms. “Miles! Hey.” He sounds excited despite having been the one to invite Miles over to pick up his daughter.

“Hey, I’m here to get May.”

“Twenty minutes on the dot,” Peter says after checking the time. “Not bad. She just had her diaper changed, and she ate pretty recently so she should be good for a while. If you can get her to sleep by eight it’ll be great but I won’t hold it against you if you can’t.”

“Got it.” Miles takes May out of Peter’s arms and gets the diaper bag from MJ. “We can take care of her, let me know when you want to pick her up and I’ll send you Hobie’s new address.”

“He got another new place?”

“Some punk housing thing in Bushwick, I haven’t been yet.” Miles shrugs. “I think he enjoys moving a lot. Last semester break he was living with me part time. It was pretty cool.”

“Of course he doesn’t like staying put in one place, makes sense for him. We better head out, take good care of her and yourself, and let us know how much you want for babysitting.”

“What?” Miles asks. “This is a favour, you’re not paying me. It’s fine.”

“You sure?” Miles nods silently in response and Peter shakes his head. “Fine, fine. If you change your mind let me know.”

“Will do, have fun!” He says goodbye to both and leaves the house, quickly walking to Hobie’s new place. Once he’s sure he found the place, he knocks on the door, and a few seconds later someone opens it. The guy’s hair is shaved smooth and he has several facial piercings, along with tattoos Miles doesn’t have time to read on his arms.

“Uhh hi.” Miles smiles awkwardly. “I’m here for Hobie?”

The guy nods. “Come in.” He opens the door and Miles walks into the house. The place seems old, and it’s a pretty big mess. Band posters are plastered all over the walls, from Ramones to Nation Of Ulysses and Sleater-Kinney. Stacks of loose leaf sheet music are scattered over every possible surface, accompanied by books and various capos, guitar picks and drumsticks. The guy leads Miles up the narrow stairs of the three story house. There’s some activity in every room. Miles can hear someone playing loud music somewhere from above them, the sound of something happening in the kitchen and the buzz of conversations. Every hallway on the second floor looks identical, and half the rooms they pass are open. Two girls writing something on papers on the floor look up at the two and wave. Miles quickly waves back and keeps walking until the guy leading him stops in front of a closed door. He knocks on it twice, telling Hobie another one of his guests is here. Hobie opens the door and stops to look at May.

“Peter asked me to babysit last minute, sorry.” Miles walks into the room.

“‘S fine, maybe she can help us.”

“Who can help us?” Gayatri asks from inside the room.

“Peter called last minute and asked me to watch May while he and MJ went out for some event. I hope that’s not a problem?”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“You should come in.” Hobie swings the door open and walks back into the room. The only word Miles has for it is bare. Dirty white walls, covered in dusty boot prints, a single bed pushed into the back corner with white sheets on it. There’s a navy duffle bag on the floor that Miles recognises, it’s the bag Hobie uses to store the things he does have. A few sets of clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, some memorabilia from people Miles decided long ago he shouldn’t ask about, and a scary collection of customised guitar picks. Other than that, the room has a small desk opposite to the bed with a dark wooden chair wobbling next to it, a dresser made from the same wood as the chair, covered in a thick layer of dust, and a window facing the backyard of the tall house.

“Nice place,” Miles says. “Very… personal.”

“Don’t know how long I’m staying, no need to decorate.”

“Fair.” Miles shrugs and sits on the floor. He then remembers he’s here for a reason, and says: “So I can think of at least a couple of places in my area that’d host a gig for us, there’s this new bar that just opened up about fifteen minutes from my house. They have a flier saying they’re looking for local bands to perform.”

“You guys are very local,” Gayatri says and both Miles and Hobie give her a sour look. “That’s not a bad thing, we’re teenagers.”

“I mean, I guess. There are just bad connections to being a local band. I don’t think that’s what we’re aiming for, right?” Miles says. “We don’t wanna just be a local band, maybe something a little more.”

“No point chasing commercial success, obviously.” Hobie sinks to the floor next to him. “But we don’t have to just be local. There are scenes all over the country, we don’t have to stick to this one.”

“You can perform in local places and still not develop the label of a local band, building Brooklyn Thunder’s image is gonna take a while. I think our biggest focus should be venturing a bit everywhere. Play shows in different neighborhoods and different areas, maybe get out of New York for festivals during school holidays. There shouldn’t be much of a problem getting you on rosters,” Gayatri sits in front of them and waves at May, who returns the gesture with wide eyes and a wider smile. 

“We just need to find the places who are looking, and out of all of us I think you,” Miles grabs May’s hand and points it to Hobie, “have the best chance of knowing those.”

“That’s true, I can talk to some girls I know from Queens, they work in a punk bar out of town.”

“So if you both go in the directions you know, that’s already a start.” Gayatri pulls her phone out and takes a picture of Miles holding May. “I’m sending that in the group chat.” She types a few words quickly and Miles’ phone buzzes.

[Gayatri, received 19:38]

Look who joined our mindstorming sesh!

[Margo, received 19:38]

Oh. My. God.

[Pav, received 19:39]

That’s so cute!!

[Gwen, received 19:40]

Now I wish I came

[Miles, sent 19:41]

You’re all still welcomed to join us, we have a LOT of work to do tonight

[Gwen, received 19:42]

Putting on my shoes rn

[Pav, received 19:42]

i’m On my way!

[Margo, received 19:43]

I’m climbing out my window

“So it just took a baby to get them to actually help us?” Hobie asks after Miles shows him the texts.

“Apparently.” Miles shrugs. “We should use her as a business tool. She can even wear a little baby suit.”

“Do they make suits for babies?” Gayatri asks, hands folded in her lap.

“I’m sure someone does.”

“We could make her our band mascot,” Hobie says. “To seem more kid friendly.”

“I don’t know what’s more kid friendly than hardcore punk, honestly.” The way Miles says it, earnestly and simply, drives them into tears faster than they thought possible. “I mean,” he tries to say through the bursts of boisterous laughter, “what’s more kid friendly than a mosh pit?”

“Death metal,” Gayatri deadpans and falls back laughing, hair falling around her on the floor.

“Right, how could I forget?” Miles holds his stomach with one hand, still supporting May with the other. “We should get back to work.”

“On our baby brand?” Hobie asks.

They waste ten more minutes like that until one of the girls Miles saw earlier when passing through the house knocks on the door and lets Gwen, Pav and Margo into the room.

“What’s so funny?” Gwen asks.

“Business babies,” Miles manages to say.

“Business huh?” Margo slouches back on Hobie’s bed. “Nice place, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“Business babies,” Gayatri tries to explain, bursting into another fit of giggles. “It’s like-” she begins saying, but loses the edge of her sentence.

“Oh, you all lost it.” Gwen sits next to Miles and shakes her head. She then waves at May with a small smile.

“I think I get what they mean,” Pav shrugs.

“You’re really good at figuring people out though, that doesn’t count,” Margo dismisses him. “Do you guys need water or something?”

“Yes, actually.” Miles takes a deep breath, and starts laughing again. “I can’t stop.”

Gwen rustles through her bag and pulls out a bottle. “Pass it around,” she decrees and hands the bottle to Miles. He takes three gulps, and when he passes the bottle to Gayatri he’s finally calm again. She, in turn, passes it to Hobie.

“We were joking about making Mayday the mascot of the band,” Gayatri finally explains. “It got a little out of hand.”

“Sounds cute though. And before that?” Margo asks, hugging her knees.

“We agreed Hobie was gonna contact some people he knows to get us gigs out of town, and I’ll ask around my neighbourhood. You guys should try it out as well, we don’t really wanna end up as just a local band, right?”

“No, you’re right. It’s a smart idea, if we manage to perform in all kinds of areas in New York and even out of the city or out of state every now and then we can build ourselves a more diverse reputation.” Gwen nods and taps her fingers on the floor. “It’s a good way to get the word out, going to different places. This one coffee shop near my house does concerts sometimes, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“I think I know a place or two we can perform in,” Pav says. “What about you Margo?”

“I can think of a couple, I’ll get back to you on that. Is there anything else we’re really supposed to take care of today? Miles, do you have the design already?”

“I have too many ideas, but I have some first sketches.” Miles nods. “Give me another week or two, I can nail it.”

“I saw some of them,” Gwen says. “They’re all crazy good.”

“Awesome!” Pav smiles. “Take your time working on it, we all want it to look the best possible. We trust you, do what you think.”

“He’s right.” Hobie nods. “You got this, Miles.”

“Thanks, it’ll be done at some point.”

“So Hobie,” Gwen turns to him, “how long do you think you’ll stay here? Seems like just the place for you.”

“It’s just a testing period for now. The people are nice, but I’m not sure about it.” He shrugs. Hobie was always a bit like that, the group’s all gotten used to it. He’s indecisive in the longer term, it’s part of his charm. Always on the move, he hits the ground running and there’s no way he doesn’t have their backs. The duality of his impulsiveness and reliability made him a confusing character to Miles when they first met. He never knew what to expect from him. It started off intimidating, but turned into half the fun. He knows that when Hobie is around he won’t get bored. 

“I like this place,” Pav comments. “I bet we can practice here.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll be here for at least a little while.”

“Miles,” Gayatri says, “where’s May?”

Miles looks down, sees he’s no longer holding May, and his heart stops. “Oh crap.”

“Did we lose Peter’s daughter?” Margo straightens up.

“Oh my god.” Pav buries his head in his hands. 

They all slowly look to the door, that’s now cracked open more than before. 

“She’s still somewhere in the house, come on.” Gwen gets up and the rest of the group follows suit. 

“We should split up,” Hobie says. “Go in pairs, each pair covers a floor.”

“I’ll go with you,” Pav is quick to say. “We can do this floor.”

“Margo and I will look downstairs,” Gayatri says. She and Margo find the nearest flight of stairs

“So Miles and I will search the ground floor.” Gwen grabs his wrist and they run downstairs. The news of the missing child spreads through the house faster than a wildfire, and soon twenty other people join their search. They flip every mattress, and open every room but May is still nowhere to be found.

“Do you think Peter will kill me when he finds out I lost his daughter?” Miles asks as he and Gwen crawl around the floor of the living room, trying to find any place a baby could be hiding it.

“Only a little, it was an honest mistake.”

“Just a little killing, that’s a relief. I thought I really messed up,” Miles jokes and Gwen laughs. 

“We’ll find her, relax. She’s here somewhere. Where haven’t we checked?”

“I think just the kitchen.” Miles gets up and brushes his clothes. 

“Then she has to be there. Come on.” They walk into the kitchen together.

“You find her yet?” The guy who let Miles in earlier asks.

“No, but we think she’s here.”

“Have at it then.”

Miles and Gwen begin to check under the heavy furniture and around the corners of the small corners. May isn’t anywhere they can see . Maybe this is it for Miles. But he hears a noise from behind him. When he turns around, he sees a large wooden cabinet with several small doors close to the floor. He starts opening the different doors, until in one of the empty cabinet spaces he finds May, happy as a clam.

“Oh thank god.” He sighs in relief and pulls her out, holding her in his arms.

“We found her!” Gwen says. 

“Let’s go tell everyone they can stop looking.” Miles says. The house quickly sinks back into what seems like their routine, and the group congregates in Hobie’s room.

“What’s important is that she’s fine,” Miles says. “Even though she almost gave me a heart attack.” Just then his phone rings, Peter’s contact appearing on the screen. “Hey!” Miles answers.

“Hey, how’s everything going?”

“Just fine. She fell asleep for a little while, and now she’s just playing around.”

“Was she any trouble? She’s had this thing with wandering for a little while.”

“Not at all.” Miles ignores his friends’ laughter in the background. “When are you coming to pick her up?”

“How’s thirty minutes?”

“Sounds perfect. See you!”

“See you then, bye.” Peter hangs up.

“You’re not gonna tell him you lost his daughter?” Margo asks.

“Never. None of us should. We’re taking this to the grave.”

The sound of Margo’s voice echoes in the walls of Gwen’s shitty garage. The loud drums bang. The bass and two guitars, all with heavy distortion, are strummed quickly, as synchronised as a bunch of not so experienced teenage musicians can get. The noise all somehow combines into something that almost sounds like music and all five of them are pumped with adrenaline. They’ve been at it for hours, in the mostly dark room with borrowed and secondhand instruments, practicing so much Miles can barely feel his fingers anymore. A song ends and they waste no time going into the next one. If the neighbours have complaints about the volume, that’s a problem to solve later. Right now there is only music. Time doesn’t really pass, and they’re all entirely lost in the moment and the sound. After who even knows how long one of them finally dares say something about how their arms are getting tired or their fingertips are almost bleeding, but from the sudden break they all collapse. Pav almost falls to the floor, legs sprawling in front of him. Gwen sits next to where Pav lies down and Margo leans on one of the walls, tipping her head backwards. Hobie finds a box in the corner and sits on it, Miles himself folds over, hands over the knees.

“Good practice everyone,” Pav says weakly. 

“I think I’m gonna go into a coma for a few days,” Margo replies, winded out.

“And you’ll be here Saturday morning?” Miles asks. 

She groans. “Yeah, obviously. Why do we practice so much again? Wait, no one answer that.”

“What time is it anyway?” Gwen asks.

“Ten past eleven,” Hobie says. “Miles, any chance your parents will let me crash on the couch again?”

“I think so. Still haven’t found a solid place?”

“I’m working on it. Thanks again, I owe you.”

“No, no. you’re good. Though I don’t think my parents really like you.”

“I don’t like them too much either,” he says. After a moment he adds: “Well, your mum’s alright.”

Margo groans. “Let’s not get into that again. Can I also sleep over? I’m pretty sure my dad moved out again so my mom’s gonna be explosive.”

“I’ll check. Anyone else?” Miles jokes.

“Yeah, sure, if you’re offering. Your house is fun.” Gwen shrugs. “I like your room.”

“Is that why you’re always there?” Pav asks and laughs at Gwen’s annoyed look. “If everyone’s going then I am too.”

“I- okay, fine. I’ll check with my parents if it’s alright.” Miles leaves the garage and after a few minutes of negotiating on the phone, returns to his friends with approval. 

“As long as we don’t make a huge mess or set anything on fire, you guys can all come.” The news is met with enthusiasm as Gwen, Pav and Margo let their guardians know they’ll be gone for the night. “But we better head out soon because it’s really late. We can catch the subway pretty close by.” 

The five scramble to get ready, and after thirty minutes they’re already climbing the stairs to Miles’ apartment. 

“What are we even gonna do?” Miles asks as he unlocks the door, both his parents will be working night shifts, leaving the house for the band. “We didn’t plan for anything.”

“Just go with the flow dude, we’ll find something fun to do,” Pav says.

“Fun and dangerous,” Margo adds.

“No, no. The danger will find us .” Miles sets his stuff in his room and finds enough spare mattresses for all of them to sleep on. “It always seems to.”

“True. Can I invite Gayatri? She said she thinks she can get out of the house if we say we’re studying.” Pav takes his shoes off at the entrance and flops down on the couch.

“Uhh, I don’t think it’ll be a problem, sure.” Miles and Hobie drag the mattresses onto the living room floor together. 

“Hey Miles, where’s your popcorn?” Gwen asks from the kitchen.

“Top cabinet on the left, the pack says three minutes but it only needs two and a half.”

“Got it!” The sounds of her rustling around the kitchen fade to the background when Margo asks where the bathroom is, and Miles directs her down the hall.

The small apartment soon fills with the various noises of shuffling feet, running water and kernel popping in the microwave. The buttered popcorn smell spreads through the place faster than a fire and then there’s a knock on the door, prompting Pav to get up and greet Gayatri. She comes in and thanks Miles for hosting before going into the living room with Pav. They sit and chat quietly together, and Hobie puts on a Huggy Bear song in the background. Margo comes out of the bathroom quickly and sits with him, idly playing on her phone.

Miles walks into the kitchen and finds Gwen sitting on the counter, two bags of popcorn already made and one more in the microwave.

“Three?” He goes to stand next to her. 

“We’re a lot of people. I can eat one alone, easy.”

“I guess.” Miles shrugs.

“Thanks for hosting tonight. It’s really cool of you.” Gwen smiles at him.

“I’m not sure how this happened.” He laughs. “But I like having you over.” 

“I like being here. Your parents are great.”

“Yeah, I guess they are.” Miles sets his hand down on the counter between them. The sound of the microwave going off surprises them both, and he quickly goes to get the last bag.

He and Gwen go back to the living room with the popcorn and pour it all into two ceramic bowls on the coffee table. Everyone starts eating and chatting. Gayatri asks about how their practice went and gets answers ranging from good to my-arms-are-so-tired-they-could-fall-off. They each talk about whatever drama is happening at their schools, with Hobie occasionally chiming in with his own stories of people he knows. Miles lets his mind float away and enjoys the company of his friends in peace. At a certain point Gwen and Pav start arguing about something meaningless and begin throwing popcorn at one another. A few stray kernels hit Margo who immediately returns a vicious attack. Hobie helps raise the stakes by joining in and Gayatri follows suit. A fistful thrown by Pav ends up hitting Miles in the face and he laughs.

“Oh so that’s how it’s gonna be?” He asks, throwing some back. They wage a war, two sides quickly gathering with Hobie fighting solo. Their snacks fly through the air as they all laugh and yell at each other. Hobie’s music makes for a convincing soundtrack and stakes are raised higher as the fighting continues. Soon most of the popcorn in both bowls is either eaten or thrown somewhere on the floor and they’re all out of ammunition. Gayatri is declared the winner and all six of them crash on the couch and floor again.

“We should really clean up,” Gwen says.

“Yeah, sorry for the mess dude.” Pav laughs.

“It’s cool. I’ll go get a broom.” Miles drags himself up and gets one from the bathroom, beginning to clean up.

“What do you guys say we go get more snacks?” Margo suggests. “Considering we just wasted most of them.” The group agrees and everyone slowly gets up and begins finding their shoes and wallets while Miles cleans up. Gwen promptly comes back to the living room, kneeling to shovel popcorn into small piles.

“I got this, don’t worry,” Miles tells her.

“Well I started the mess, let me help you clean.” She grabs the broom from his hands. 

“Alright, fine. I’m almost done anyway.”

“Go put on your shoes, I’ll wrap it up here.”

Miles does as he’s told and soon they’re all ready to go, armed with a grocery list made by Pav and Margo.

“Guys, this is ninety nine percent sugar,” Miles says.

“We can get some pizza or something for dinner, don’t worry about it!” Pav says. 

“Or McDonald’s,” Margo suggests, dragging a wave of agreements aside from Hobie. “See? Some dinner, too.”

“Alright, fine. Let’s go.”

When they leave the house it’s a little past one in the morning, and the streets are still busy. Neon ads are on buildings around them and people still walk through the streets in groups, some couples and some friend groups similar to them. The cars all stand in traffic and their red tail lights reflect on the asphalt, colouring the surroundings along with the loud bright neon and orange streetlights. Miles leads the group towards a nearby gas station store, chatting with Pav and Gayatri along the way. The late winter night stings his nose and throat and he pulls his jacket closer to his body, shoving his hands deep into the pockets. Pav says something funny and Miles only catches the end of the sentence, so he laughs anyway and gives a witty reply back. Pav grins widely and swings his available arm around Miles’ shoulders and their conversation continues while he hears the sounds of Hobie and Gwen talking vaguely behind them. The frost from the chilled pavement seeps through the soles of his untied sneakers and he twitches in place, but they’re almost at the store so he pays no mind to it. 

When they arrive Miles pushes the door and hears a familiar bell ring. The group is quick to pair up and disperses to look for snacks from the list. Miles goes into the drinks aisle with Gwen and she grabs a cart for them. 

“You think there’s actually a McDonald’s open at this hour?” Miles asks, grabbing a few bottles of soda from the shelves.

“Probably not. But we’ll find somewhere else to eat.” Gwen takes the drinks out of his hand and puts them in the cart. Margo walks into the aisle to drop a pile of snacks and candies in her arms into the shopping cart. Her shoes squeak on the floor as she walks away from them, and Miles’ eyes are drawn to the shiny white floor, reflecting the bright fluorescent lights above them, which flicker at random.

“Hey Miles?” Gwen asks distractedly as she pushes the cart further down. Her voice shakes a bit and she holds onto it so hard her knuckles turn white.

“What’s up?”

“Wanna go on a date with me?” 

He steps on his shoelace and falls to the ground. His arms reach out in the last second and he manages to avoid his face hitting the floor. “What?”

“Are you okay?” She holds onto his arm and helps him up. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just… Caught me by surprise.”

She laughs lightly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. The question was serious though.”

“Oh.” Miles clears his throat. “Cool.”

“You don’t have to answer now, I get it.”

“No, no! I want to!” He rushes to answer.

“Really?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Okay. Cool.” Gwen smiles at him. “How’s next Friday?”

“Sounds good.” Miles nods. “What are we doing?”

“Leave that to me. We better finish getting our stuff and go before Pav and Hobie get us kicked out.” She points over to a different part of the store where the two are laughing and making a mess.

“I think we got all the drinks everyone wanted. Even Hobie’s weird cherry coke.”

“Cherry cokes are great, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gwen argues. “You and Your stupid gatorade.”

“Gatorade is the perfect sports drink, what are you talking about?”

“Miles, I haven’t seen you drink water in weeks. It’s just gatorade in all colours of the rainbow.” Gwen grabs the cart again and starts walking back to the group.

“I- hey!” Miles runs after her. “I do drink water. I’m healthy.”

“I’m sure you do, but I barely ever see it happen.”

“What’s the argument here?” Pav asks. 

“Does Miles drink water?”

“Yes,” Hobie says.

“Sometimes, I think.” Margot looks over at them while she puts their snacks on the conveyor belt.

“Okay you only drink redbulls, you don’t get to judge.” Miles crosses his arms.

“Hey, I recently switched to XLs.”

“Same thing.”

“Is not!”

“It kind of is,” Gwen says.

“Is every one of your arguments like this?” Gayatri asks. “Do I just not notice it?”

“Uh, yeah. Pretty much,” Miles says.

“At least you’re having fun.” She shrugs. The cashier says their total and the group quickly scrambles to find the crimped bills in their pockets. They bag their groceries and exit the shop, back to the cold night air.

“Food now, right?” Miles asks. “I’m hungry.”

“I’m up for whatever’s open right now. Even if we need to sneak into a bar,” Gwen says.

“I know some places nearby, but I’m not sure if they’re open. We can go check,” Margo suggests, and in the face of no arguments, she starts leading the group away from the gas station. They all walk and chat together, and Miles really hopes the rest of the band doesn’t catch the way he and Gwen keep glancing over at each other. He wonders if they heard their talk, but even if they did he doesn’t really care. The idea of even going on a date with Gwen gives him so many butterflies he feels he might fall over again. The thought reminds him of his untied shoelaces and he kneels quickly to tie them. When he looks up from the ground the group is waiting for him, they don’t keep walking until he  gets up and brushes his pants. Pav and Gwen play a game to recognise some word on street signs and ads around them, and Hobie joins in. Miles finds himself walking next to Margo, who’s drinking an XL out of a can.

“So, you and Gwen are actually going on a date? Officially?” She asks. And Miles reaches to scratch his neck.

“Uh, yeah. You heard?” He smiles awkwardly.

“Gwen told me she was gonna ask. And yes. It’s about time.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“That you two have feelings for each other or that you’re going on a date?” Margo asks and takes another sip of her drink

“...Both?” Miles hesitantly asks.

“Everyone knows you like each other. I think Hobie knows you’re going out, but it’s hard to tell with him. I bet everyone’s gonna find out soon enough.”

Miles shrugs. “I don’t think it’s a secret. I don’t mind if they know.”

“Are you excited?” Margo bumps her shoulder into his.

He laughs. “Yeah, actually. I didn’t even think she liked me back, definitely didn’t expect her to ask me out.”

“It does sound like something she’d do.”

“In general? Sure. I didn’t think it’d happen with me. ”

“I guess that makes sense. So when is the date?”

“Next Friday. I’m not sure if I should tell my parents.”

“Eh, just give it a go.” She shrugs and throws her empty can into a trash can.

“What are you two talking about?” Pav asks them.

“Miles and Gwen’s date next week,” Margo replies.

“Since when is that happening?” He looks quickly between the two. 

“Like, twenty minutes ago.” Gwen shuffles her feet and looks at Miles quickly. 

“We don’t have to make this a big deal, okay? It’s just a date.” Miles shrugs, but his insides are doing backflips at the thought.

“But it is a big deal!” Pav insists. “You guys have liked each other since forever.”

“Not true,” Miles and Gwen say at the same time, then look at each other in surprise.

“It is a pretty big deal,” Hobie shrugs. “Changes the dynamic between you.”

“Between all of us,” Margo corrects, then looks at Miles. “Don’t ruin the band, Yoko.”

“Why am I Yoko?”

“You’d rather be John Lennon?” 

“Okay, this argument is pointless. No one’s ruining the band, Miles and I are just testing things out to see how we’d work as a couple. That’s it. We should all be mature enough to not let that mess up our band, right?” Gwen looks around at all of them and they nod.

“Also, other bands have been able to perform after romantic drama. Like ABBA or Fleetwood Mac,” Gayatri says.

“Right, thank you. Can we just move on? Miles is right, this isn’t a big deal if we don’t make it one.”

“Alright, fine. But we’re gonna ask a ton of questions after.”

“We’ll prepare for that,” Miles says. “Now let’s find something to eat.”

“Is nothing in your neighbourhood open all night?” Margo asks.

“I don’t know, usually when I’m out at night I don’t need food.” Miles shrugs.

“Vampire style, cool. But the rest of us do need food. Is there not a McDonald’s nearby?”

“I still think we should go somewhere else,” Hobie says. 

“And your concerns have been noted, but I don’t think anything else in the area will be open at this hour.”

“In fact, the Mcdonald’s isn’t open either.” Gayatri points ahead of them, at a darkened yellow sign. 

“Maybe it is a good idea we eat there.” Hobie crosses his arms.

“What do you mean?” Pav asks.

“I mean I can probably get us inside. Free food.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Miles hesitates. “What if we get caught? My dad works in this area, he’ll kill me.”

“We just have to not get caught then.” Gwen shrugs. “So how do we get in?”

“Break the electric lock, maybe,” Margo suggests. “Shouldn’t be too hard, I can probably do that if you get me a screwdriver.”

“So we’re just gonna break into McDonald’s? No discussion?” Miles asks, exasperated.

“I think so. Unless you wanna argue with them,” Pav says. “As long as we get food, I’m in.”

“I-”

“C’mon Miles, it’ll be fun. Live a little, it’s not that illegal,” Gwen says. She and Miles look at each other for a second and he sighs.

“Fine. I have a screwdriver.”

“Awesome! Why?” Margo asks.

“I had to screwdrive something.” Miles digs it out of his pocket and hands it over to Margo, who kneels in front of the McDonald’s door lock.

“Gayatri and I will go keep watch on the street corners, you guys stay here and make sure no one gets close,” Gwen says, and she and Gayatri quickly split up. Miles shifts his balance from his heels to his toes over and over again, looking around him constantly.

“Miles, relax. Do cops even come to this area a lot?” Hobie asks.

“I don’t think so, but I’m still worried.”

“If we get caught, we’ll take the blame. Get you less trouble with your parents,” Pav says.

“Speak for yourself, I also have parents to get in trouble with. Your aunt doesn’t get mad at these things,” Margo says. “And my mom’s been extra moody, cause of my dad.”

“What do they always fight about anyway?” Miles asks.

“At this point, nothing. They pick fights over how to do the dishes and whatever. But I’m pretty sure my dad cheated a few years ago.”

“Pretty sure?” Pav looks at her quickly.

“They never actually told me, but I think I remember a woman who came to our house a lot when my mom was at work. Or something.” Margo’s voice gets a little weaker. “Their marriage hasn’t really been good in a while. I think they’re just staying together for me, but whenever I tell them to get a divorce they say I don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

Her words hang in the air like knives, no one’s sure what to say. It was well known within their group that Margo’s parents had a bad relationship, and she suffered from it. They didn’t know how deep it went, or the source of the fights. Margo never brought it up, and something about asking felt bad. There are some things you’re not supposed to bring up; your friend’s parents not being in love anymore is definitely one of them. The only other person with two parents in the group was Miles, and they never had these kinds of issues. His biggest complaints were about being smothered, grounded, or the occasional fight he did have with them. Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t have his problems. Miles had confided in them about how he often felt his parents didn’t understand what he wanted to do or even who he was, including the company he chose to be around. But he didn’t understand growing up in a home with two people who don’t love each other. His parents gave him an example of what a good relationship was supposed to look like, Margo’s house was the exact opposite. He often didn’t really know how to handle it. And she never wanted to talk about it.

“I’m really sorry. That sucks.” Miles looks at the sidewalk and kicks the gravel on it.

She half huffs, half laughs. “Yeah, it does. Just a few more years and I can move out though, so it’ll be fine.”

“You know you can always come hang out at my house,” he suggests.

“Or mine,” Pav says.

“We’re here for you.” Hobie nods once, and pulls out a cigarette from some pocket in his jacket. He lights it and takes a long puff. The smell always sticks to his clothes, in a way that becomes almost familiar.

“How’s the lock going?” Margo asks.

“Almost done. Wanted to see if I could bypass it but I think I’m just gonna burn it or something.”

“I always support burning things.” The four of them laugh and a quick crack sound comes from the lock, followed by a flash of light. Margo pushes the door carefully and it swings open. 

“Got it!”

“I’ll go get the other girls,” Pav says. “Save some food for me.”

“This is a whole restaurant, I think we can manage to keep a nugget or two for you,” Miles says and Pav cackles as he walks away.

He circles the block back with Gwen and Gayatri, and the six of them raid the kitchen. They find some of everything and begin firing up the fryers, as well as the hot plates. They fix up a large meal made from anything that was still left in the kitchen, and each get themselves a large cup of one of the drinks. 

“Do you guys wanna go up to the roof with our food?” Miles suggests, and they quickly find a path up. They climb one after the other, carefully carrying all the food they had just made. It’s been over thirty minutes since they entered and no one seemed to be coming for them. Miles could finally relax. They get to the roof and sit on the edge next to the large yellow M in a row, legs swinging off the edge of the building. They can see half the lively neighbourhood from their vantage point. 

“We’re gonna do fine in life, huh?” Margo says. “I mean, we’ll go somewhere from here.”

“Well obviously.” Miles takes a bite of his burger. “This is just the beginning for us.”

“We’re gonna rule the freaking world!” Pav exclaims and they all cheer. Miles only ever drank a few times in his life but being drunk felt a little bit like this. A bit of lightheadedness, a little dizzy, always happy, and absolutely invincible. Nothing could hurt him, nothing could stop him. And he’s totally free.

“Let’s do a toast,” Margo says, and raises her cup. “To ruling the world.”

“To ruling the world!” They all repeat, raising their own cups. They drink and laugh. The laughter doesn’t seem to end, whenever they almost calm down it starts all over again. Miles doesn’t want this to end. If they could sit up there forever and eat shitty food and laugh—that would be perfect. His and Gwen’s hands brush together on the edge of the roof and they pretend not to notice. He only looks at her when she’s looking somewhere else; he hopes that when he looks away she’s looking back at him. They crack the dumbest jokes and it’s almost like singing. Their laughter is art. Being a teenager feels really fucking good for once, with New York sprawling around them in vivid neon colours and millions of people who don’t know they’re gonna rule the world someday. That’s fine. Even if they only rule their own world, that’ll be good. The idea of control over their lives is sweeter than anything in the paper cups. Tonight doesn’t have to end, it can last forever in their minds. As long as they carry it with them it’ll keep going.

For the first time McDonald’s actually tastes kind of good, except it doesn’t. Everything about this just has to be good; the cold wind in their faces and the hard concrete they sit on, the food they made without knowing how to work anything in the kitchen and each other’s company. Miles looks around him for a moment. Margo and Hobie are fighting over their leftover fries, throwing most of them at each other. Gayatri is leaning her head on Pav’s shoulder and they’re conversing quietly in Marathi. And Gwen… when Miles looks at Gwen she’s looking right at him. She doesn’t say anything but she grins, and Miles beams back at her. He looks back out at the cityscapes and finally takes her hand, threading their fingers together.

“I love you guys,” Pav says. The five of them return a chorus of “I love yous” and they sink into a silence, interrupted only by the sounds of cars and faint club music.

“We should probably go back to my house,” Miles says eventually. “We need to sleep and all that.”

Getting up and climbing back down the ladder is agonizingly slow. No one wants this to end. And what if they reach the bottom and the magic is gone? What if they go back home and none of this ever happened? What happens then? The questions nag Miles quietly, biting at the contentment he feels for once. He tries to swat them away, looking down at his hand, still holding Gwen’s. He can figure this out later. It can all wait. Now it’s time to be happy. 

They wash the dishes they used (it’s the least they can do after breaking in, Miles reasons) and finally leave the store. The walk home is calm. There’s not much talk, and the streets aren’t too loud other than the drunk people bar hopping. There’s nothing to say, and the silence doesn’t ask to be filled. They’re perfectly fine living in it. It’s a silence that invites you to stay a little longer, lulls you into it. Isn’t this nice? It asks. Don’t you wanna just pretend the future isn’t coming? That it’ll all be like this until the end of days? Isn’t basking in the presence of these people so perfect? Isn’t it sad they have to leave tomorrow? Do you even know you’ll say goodbye forever one day? That doesn’t matter now, now they’re here. Be silent. Linger around. Be together as long as you can. Revel in this. Be in love with the world around you, just for now.

The sidewalks are familiar, and Miles waves at the people he knows and nods at those he doesn’t. He’s still holding Gwen’s hand. It’s still a little cold. The edges of the road are a little scratched from the cars who park on them daily, and the lines on the asphalt roads are blurred and faded. They shine in the city lights. Everything does. They’re washed over with every colour in the rainbow.

Soon they reach Miles’s apartment building and climb the stairs one by one. Their legs are weary and they’re slow to walk. Miles finally lets go of Gwen’s hand and his palm is warmer than before when he twists the cold metal doorknob, revealing the empty apartment. His parents won’t be home for another three hours, more than enough time for them to watch a movie and get to sleep. 

It doesn’t take many words to get them all on the mattresses in the living room in front of the small TV. Miles goes through every movie they have downloaded and lands on Paranorman. He and Margo turn off the lights around the house and settle back with everyone else. They’re only half watching, as their eyelids get heavier and their limbs go a little more limp. Everyone is asleep by the time the credits roll, and the TV remains on until Rio gets home to turn it off. 

The magic will disappear, it has to. Nothing lasts forever, Miles knows this. Things will change and the magic will disappear. When it does, they’ll just create a new kind. And they’ll do it again until it’s time to say goodbye. And then they dream again. And love again. And again and again and again. Until it makes them sick, except it never will. Not really, at least. But as long as they’re all together there can always be some sort of magic. Even many years into the future, even if they don’t speak a word to each other when they’re adults, the magic will be there. The magic of being young and stupid and thinking you and your friends are invincible. The magic of a concrete roof and a yellow M, and holding hands in the dark when your friends can’t see. The magic of toasting over sprite and breaking a lot of rules in a very stupid fashion. And when they’re adults that magic will become nostalgia, the drug that runs the world. The thing that makes childhood memories feel bright and sparkly, and makes you feel warm when you think of the other kids on the playground around you.

Maybe none of this ever happened, maybe they dreamt it all. Dreams are forever. Dreams are a powerful thing. Dreams are the start of everything in this world, even if people don’t know it. Even if it didn’t happen, even if they never talk about it again, it’ll live in their dreams. In their dreams anything can happen. In their dreams they can stay friends for the rest of their lives and love each other without fearing an end. 

There’s always tomorrow morning, anyway. Nothing ends now, tomorrow they’ll wake up and make pancakes and discreetly make jokes about the night before, and feign their innocence when questioned by any adult. They’ll walk part of the way home and slowly separate, when they do Miles will turn and walk back by himself. The sun will rise over Brooklyn and someone will find out about what they did, they probably won’t care too much because no money disappeared. In a few days they have band practice, and they probably won’t talk about it. They’ll play their hearts out until it gets hard to breathe and go to school like normal. They’ll do it all over again. And at some point the magic will happen again. That’s how it always seems to work.

First dates are strange. There are too many expectations piled up around just one event, one afternoon, sometimes even less. There’s pressure, too; dress well, look good, talk about yourself, but not too much, and maybe a million other things. Miles hoped there’d be less pressure as the date approached but he wasn’t so lucky. It doesn’t matter that he’s known Gwen for a while and they were friends, if anything that made everything worse. 

He changes clothes three times before giving up and texting Pav.

[To: Pav, sent 14:56]

What am I even supposed to wear on a date

[From: Pav, received 14:58]

Depends. What are you doing?

[To: Pav, sent 14:58]

No idea

Gwen wanted to do the planning

[From: Pav, received 14:59]

Then you can’t go wrong with jeans and a t-shirt. Just go for something casual, you know Gwen

She doesn’t do huge gestures

[To: Pav, sent 15:00]

Ig, yeah

I’m just nervous

[From: Pav, received 15:00]

When is she picking you up?

[To: Pav, sent 15:01]

Like an hour

[From: Pav, received 15:02]

Take a shower and relax. I was super nervous on my first date with Gayatri and it went great. Gwen likes you, you’ll be fine

[To: Pav, sent 15:02]

You’re right, you’re right

Thanks

[From: Pav, received 15:02]

Have fun!

Miles sighs and gets up, stretching his back with a groan. He gets into the dorm’s shower and tries to get out of his head. This is Gwen, after all. He knows her and she knows him. They’re gonna be fine, right? It might be a bit awkward at first but if they both feel the same way it shouldn’t be a problem. Sticking to what they know might be good for a start. No grand romantic gestures, no dramatic confessions. Just Miles and Gwen. He still knows how to be part of that. He gets out of the shower feeling refreshed, and a lot less nervous. He gets on a pair of black, straight leg jeans and a dark red graphic tee with fake graffiti lines all over it and a black zip up hoodie. He stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom for a moment and relaxes his shoulders. He looks fine, this’ll be fine. He grabs one of his sketchbooks and doodles in the corners of a page already drawn all over. He listens to music and tries very hard not to think of what will happen if the date goes badly. It won’t, he tells himself. It’ll be fun and casual and you’ll go on more. It’s just a date. All the thinking in the world can’t get the bad thoughts out, so he decides to live with them. There’s not much to do with Gwen coming in fifteen minutes anyway. He’s home for the weekend, but his parents are both working that day. They’ll be home by the time Miles and Gwen will be done, or at least Miles imagines so, and will want to know everything that happened. He was ready for that. He was even ready for his friends asking a million questions. He wasn’t ready for anything that was going to happen in between, but he can cross that bridge when he gets there. He spends those last few minutes after getting his wallet and putting on his shoes just watching the clock tick, until a knock on the door startles him. He walks to the door, messing with the edges of his sleeves, and opens.

“Hey.” Gwen smiles at him. “Ready to go?” His wardrobe choice was fitting, he sees now. Gwen’s wearing light wash  slightly baggy jeans and the chucks she stole from Hobie several months prior, with a large pink and black pull-over hoodie.

“Hey, yeah I am. You haven’t told me where we’re going.” Miles gets his keys and leaves the house, locking the door.

“Because that’s not the point of a surprise. We need to take a bus there, it’s in Manhattan.”

“Why would we go there?” Miles scrunches his nose in disgust and Gwen laughs. 

“Pav lives there, we go there all the time.” They quickly get out of the building and Gwen leads the way to the bus station.

“And for Pav that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“It’ll be fun, trust me.” She grabs his hand and drags him along with her between all the people. “Our bus is in three minutes.”

Miles looks down at their hands briefly and follows Gwen to her station, getting his bus card out with his free hand. “And you’re sure you won’t tell me?”

“I’m sure. Don’t you trust me?”

“Obviously I do, what are you talking about?” 

“Then trust that this will be fun. This is our line.” Gwen flags the bus down and they get on. She doesn’t let go of Miles’ hand. He really doesn’t want her to.

The bus ride is short, with Miles and Gwen mostly talking about band stuff and the gig he and Hobie got them the next month, for a charity show. It was Brooklyn Thunder’s first show outside of random parties and shitty bars, and excitement was up. They added three new songs to their set list just for it, all five of them trying to crank out new lyrics at light speed. They expanded their cover song repertoire too, incorporating more grunge and alternative rock sounds into the show.

Gwen nudges Miles about their stop and they get off the bus together. She checks her phone for directions and leads Miles through the busy streets in a place neither of them is too familiar with. They finally get to their destination, a place called Roller Rage. They stand in front of the blue and pink neon sign for a few moments.

“What is this place?” Miles asks.

“It’s a rollerskating rink. With an arcade and like, a burger place.” Her hand twitches and her voice tenses. “What do you think?”

“It’s awesome. But do you know how to roller skate?”

Gwen stops for a moment before answering. “No.”

Miles starts laughing.

“I didn’t think about that!” She nudges his side. “Shut up.”

“Sorry. I can try to teach you.”

“You know how to roller skate?” Gwen raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah, when I was twelve one of the girls in my class had a birthday party for everyone at a skate rink.”

“That’s so cool. All the birthdays in my class sucked. But I think being twelve just sucked for me.”

“It wasn’t amazing on my end either. Let’s go inside.” 

They push the door open and are transported into another world. The floor is covered in black carpet with colourful, neon star prints that glow under the UV lights. The place is dark other than similar neon lights, mostly blue and red. In the rink they can see some people in ranging ages skating around, some of them with more expertise and some clinging to the edges like lifelines. Around the rink old eighties style arcade games are fixed up to the walls, with people gathered around them in small groups as each person takes their turn playing. The air has a strong smell of fried food, coming from an area they can see, presumably the restaurant. Gwen finds the desk to rent out skates and they make their way there. 

“Okay, I got them on. I’m trusting you now,” Gwen finishes lacing the skates and looks up at Miles, who’s already standing.

“It’s really easy, you’ll be fine.” Miles grabs her hand and helps her stand. “Stable?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, this’ll be easier off the carpet.” They inch their way to the rink and Miles quickly explains how to skate. “Think you got it?”

“Maybe?” Gwen laughs nervously. She hesitantly moves forward, then grabs Miles’s arm. “Nope. Absolutely not. I don’t have it.”

Miles cackles. “It’s fine. Step by step. Let’s try again.”

It takes a few tries until Gwen really gets the hang of it, and she still seems scared shitless.

“This is actually kind of fun,” she says after a while.

“You planned this.”

“I took a risk, sue me.” Gwen gives him a stink eye. “It is fun, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I hate to think of accidentally falling on the dirty floor.”

She makes a disgusted face. “Now I’m thinking about it. Ew.”

“I think we can call it quits for now, go play some games,” he suggests. “It’ll be easier to skate on the carpet.”

“Sounds good.”

They make it out of the rink and change back into their shoes. Gwen drags Miles to the first game she sees, an old Galaxia game.

“It’s a Galaga sequel,” she explains. “Shooter game from the seventies.”

“Galaga has a sequel? There’s no story.”

“It’s the same gameplay, just new graphics. Also, I think Galaga does have a story.” Gwen looks through her wallet and pulls out a few quarters. “But I never played. Margo told me about it.” The game begins and Gwen’s expression shifts to a focused one as she looks at the pixelated spaceships.

“Checks out. So you just shoot the things on the screen?”

“Pretty much.”

“Bet I can beat you?” Miles crosses his arms. Gwen doesn’t look at him, but she gets that smile on her face. He knows that look, amusement and determination fused together. Whenever they compete it ends up this way, and Miles and Gwen compete a lot. It’s one of the best ways to get them motivated, no matter the topic; a collaborative songwriting session with the band is often sped up by small competitions about finding rhymes and seeing who can play the coolest solo. Competition was their second nature. 

“What does the winner get?”

The million dollar question, of course. A competition’s not worth much if you don’t get anything good out of winning.

“Loser buys dinner?”

“Deal,” Gwen answers immediately. “I’m gonna buy all the fries this place sells.”

“I can’t buy you fries even if you win.”

“Why not?”

“Out of good conscience. You eat them when they’re soggy.” Miles makes a face.

“It’s not that bad,” she brushes him off. “You’re just a weirdo who likes all his food burnt.”

“I like my food crispy, big difference.”

“You’re just mad you’re about to buy my soggy fries.” Through this whole conversation, Gwen doesn’t look away from the game. Miles has to admit she’s really good, this comes naturally to her. He might have to start counting his losses already. Not that buying Gwen dinner is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, he was going to volunteer to pay for her food anyway. The competition just makes it more fun. She finally finishes the game with a ninety three thousand score.

“Beat that.”

“I’m not sure I can.” Miles laughs nervously and approaches the machine. All the high scores are in the hundred thousands, he doesn’t need to do that. He just needs enough to beat Gwen. even though he doesn’t even care that much, which is the biggest secret about their little competitions. He doesn’t care about winning. Almost never. But Gwen really does, and she gets into it. She gets excited, and competitive, and teases about it. These competitions seem to make her happy, and her being happy is always really great. Starting them isn’t hard, engaging her with these pointless competitions is wonderfully easy. And she always smiles about it. So it’s worth it. But he’s gotta put some effort in, or it takes out all the fun.

The game starts and Miles royally sucks at it. He barely manages to dodge and his shooting skills are awful. He tries his best, he really does, but this does not come as easy as Gwen made it seem. Or maybe he’s got worse hand-eye coordination than her. Maybe he should play with Margo more. She’s always suggesting it. His skills are a lot worse than he thought, at least in this game. He ends it with a scornful forty six thousand points, and says of course he’ll pay for dinner. The next games they play are all multiplayers. The sounds of their laughter and urging each other to just do something or they both die join the other customers around them, in the rink or playing the games, and the light poppy music playing in the background. They lose most of the games, but they’re having fun anyway. 

Once their small change runs out they go to the food court area together hand in hand, still laughing.

“Let’s never tell Margo how bad we turned out to be in arcade games,” Gwen suggests.

“Oh, agreed. She’d never let us live it down.” They walk into the line together, and take a break from the conversation to look up at the large menus.

“What are you getting?” Miles asks.

“Those jumbo spiced fries and a chicken sandwich, I think. You?”

“Cheeseburger and onion rings. And probably a Dr Pepper.” They slowly move down the line and Miles takes his wallet out of his pocket.

“That does sound good. You mind paying for my milkshake too? I know it’s a bit expensive so I can cover it.”

“Nah, it’s no problem. I have some saved allowance from doing chores at home.”

“And the amazing sixty dollars we got from all our shows so far?” She jokes.

“Safe and sound in my dorm, I don’t think I’ll need sixty dollars.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure, this is an expensive milkshake.”

Miles laughs. “Is the plan here just to make me go broke? Is that why you asked me out?”

“Oh no, you’ve discovered my sinister scheme,” Gwen says in an over dramatic voice.

“Sinister scheme?” Miles cackles.

“Fancy villain words.” She shrugs. “I asked you out because I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Well, I sure hope so considering you said yes.” She smiles at him from the corner of his eye and it’s finally their turn to order. They get the food and find a place to sit in one of the corners. Gwen slumps into the booth seat and Miles sits on the chair across from her. She tries a fry and nods.

“This is good. The spice mix works so well.”

“Can I try one?” Miles asks, and before Gwen answers he already grabs two fries and eats them.

“Hey, that’s my food!” 

“I’m paying for it. Woah, these are good. Do they have cajun on them?”

“I don’t know, but I love them. So let me finish them myself, you have your own dinner.”

“Fine, fine.” Miles rolls his eyes and takes a bite from his burger.

“How is it?” Gwen takes a sip from her milkshake.

“Decent. It’s a cheeseburger, how bad can it be?”

“Moldy cheese.”

“Ew, I wish I didn’t ask.”

“I’m just saying.” She shrugs.

“Please stop.”

They both laugh and keep eating while chatting away about the food, and from then to weird stuff that happened to them at restaurants, and then onto weird stuff at school until the conversation completely strays off from any of the original topics.

“—no, I swear it was a ghost!” Gwen exclaims. “I know what I saw.”

“Ghosts aren’t real, it was probably because you hadn’t slept in two days and were hearing Queen songs in the background all the time. Know the word hallucination?”

“It was not a hallucination!” She insists. “Saying ghosts aren’t real is exactly what gets you haunted by ghosts.”

“I thought it was wronging them when they were alive.”

“It can be a lot of things, ghosts are multi-faceted beings.”

“And they’re not real,” Miles repeats. “It just doesn’t make sense. The dead can’t have unfinished business, they’re dead. All their business is automatically finished.”

“But from the scientific viewpoint it has to make sense. Energy can’t be created or destroyed, right? So where does all that life energy go when we die?”

“Worms feed on our corpses and get energy from that?”

“No, ghosts.” She gives Miles a look that screams ‘are you serious?’ and he can’t help but smile. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not, I think we just have to agree to disagree.”

“Fine. For the record, you’re wrong.” She leans back in her seat, raising her foot to be on the edge of the booth.

“Noted. How’s the bankrupting milkshake?”

“Tastes like soft serve in a blender.”

“So, good?”

“Yeah, pretty good. Worth your savings.”

“That’s a relief.” 

Gwen laughs, and both their phones buzz. She picks hers up from the table and reads the message. “Everyone’s asking how it’s going. What should I say?”

“That we’re having fun? Unless you’re not.”

“I am.” Gwen types quickly and sends a message. Her phone pings three times, quickly. “They want a picture. You mind?”

“Nah.” He shrugs and they lean closer together for a picture that Gwen sends off to the group chat. Miles checks his own phone, and sees all the texts.

[From Gwen, received 19:49]

{image attached} Miles went broke to pay for my meal

[From Miles, sent 19:50]

:((

[From Margo, received 19:50]

men used to go to war

[From Miles, sent 19:51]

SHUT UP???

Gwen giggles and they both look up at each other. The place is mostly emptied out by now, and in the restaurant area only a small group of teens around their age eat and chat loudly. They finish their food quickly and leave, hit immediately by the cold New England air.

“Our bus back is in five minutes.” Gwen sits down at the small station bench, and Miles joins her. She lets her head drop on his shoulder and they watch the cars pass for a few minutes. He wonders what she’s thinking about, but doesn’t dare ask. The asphalt and sidewalks are damp, it must have rained while they were inside. The clouds in the sky are dark grey, naturally blending in with the city’s smog. Everything smells like petrichor. Soon their bus stops at the station and they board it, still in perfect silence. Nothing has to be said. When they get off at the station, Miles offers to walk Gwen home.

“It’s already dark,” is his only reasoning. 

“Sounds good.” She nods once and takes his hand again.

Miles doesn’t know the way to her home from the bus station. He lets her lead the way back until the streets start looking familiar again. He’s been to Gwen’s neighbourhood more times than he can count. He starts looking around to find little monuments of their friendship. The park where they each smoked one cigarette before deciding it was disgusting and to never do it again. The rooftop where Gwen convinced Miles to join the band. The alleyway where they sat in the middle of the night the day she told him she’s trans. He didn’t know what to say then. He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it and she smiled. The conversation continued like nothing was said.

Before he knows it they’re in front of the doorway to her home. Gwen takes one step up the stairs and now they’re the same height.

“So… Uh…” He says and she laughs.

“Uh?”

“I don’t know.”

Gwen holds the side of his face and leans forward to kiss him. They stand there in the cold for a few seconds, lip-locked. When she pulls away her face is tomato red and she buries both hands deep into the pockets of her jacket.

“Goodnight Miles. Let’s do this again soon.”

The night before Brooklyn Thunder’s show they all sleep over at the Bird Nest, where Hobie is once again living. There are too many preparations so they decide to finish them all up together. Bird Nest is as busy as always, residents going in and out, playing music, creating together and going about their general business. The members of Brooklyn Thunder are scarcely interrupted from their work, thankfully.

The first is deciding on a final set list and song orders, and checking to see when they’ll stop and talk to people about the charity cause, trying their best to space it out for the people who are just there for the music. They’re not the headlining act, but they’re getting an hour on stage and want to use it for the best. They leave in and omit songs almost at random, and argue on and on about what their best options are. There is no reason to argue, of course, but the nerves of the show begin getting to them, and there’s no way to escape it. They end up playing a tournament game with all their options, and vote for the winners together. The set list is composed of fifteen songs, ten originals and five covers. 

The next order of business is making their merch. Miles designed a band logo in simple colours, Pav and Margo bought plain t-shirts in red, black, white, and blue. Hobie got them cans of spray paint while Gwen made several stencils of their logo. They go to the small, barren backyard of the house and spray the logo carefully on every shirt. Before and after the show they’ll set up stands selling shirt, and most of the money from that will also go into the charities, an organisation that provided safety to homeless teenagers. They begin spraying the shirts and the strong smell of the spray paint hangs in the air around them clinging to their own clothes just like the paint itself. Soon the ground around them is stained the same colours all the shirts are, and the amount of shirts hung to dry grows larger than the pile waiting to be painted. They take a break and cook dinner together, for themselves and some other residents of the house. It’s a strange mix of foods. Miles makes tamales while Pav cooks Baingan Aloo Ki Subji in a different area of the kitchen. Hobie and Gwen bake brownies together and Margo helps around to whoever needs it, and soon the meal is finished and they eat together, laughing and chatting loudly. The nerves they felt earlier seem to dissipate, the show will happen whether or not they’re nervous, so they might as well let it go. 

By the time they’re all finished, the sun has long since set and the night settles over them. It makes for a cold, star-studded blanket on the outskirts of the neighbourhood. Downtown is still loud and lively, but after all the work they did that day all they want is to sleep. They crash on mattresses in Hobie’s small room in the house, and fall asleep quickly.

It’s the weekend, nowhere for them to be the next morning, so they sleep in until ten. The next day begins with lazy morning routines, garbled talking and a pile of coffee mugs in the sink. Around noon they get dressed and ready for the show, heading to the venue.

The show is set in a Soho art gallery, attempting to attract as much attention as possible for their cause as teenage homelessness in New York rises. The organisation putting the show together is aiming to set up a new shelter in Manhattan, this is the third benefit event they had in the past few months. Hobie got them the show through his part time job in the organisation, which was looking for new independent bands anyway. They arrive at the gallery together and meet the other bands playing before and after them. They practice their set list twice and go to set upthe merch booth before people start arriving. They hang with the other bands for a little longer and they all make plans to go somewhere after the show. At six o’clock the doors to the venue open and people begin trickling in. Some of them stop at the merch booth to look around, some of them even buy shirts. The show starts in thirty minutes, Brooklyn goes on in an hour. Tension is high and everyone is agitated, until they see a few familiar faces walking to their booth.

“Miles.” Gwen nudges his side. “Miles, your parents are here.”

“What?” He sits up and looks at the crowd slowly entering. “Oh god, they are. Why are they here?” Hobie laughs and Miles shushes him as his parents approach the booth.

“Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?” He smiles at them.

“We came to watch our son’s band perform,” Rio says. “And this is for charity, too. Of course we came.”

“I- okay, fine.” Miles sighs. “There are a bunch of bands though, it’s not just us.”

“We know, we’ll watch them too.”

“Oh my god,” Miles mumbles, while Hobie continues laughing in the background.

“Well, we’re all happy you came.” Gwen smiles at both of them. “You want shirts? We made all of them yesterday, Miles designed them.” She hands them two shirts. The band’s logo consists of a warped New York City skyline with rain clouds and lightning bolts hitting the tops of buildings. The band’s name is written on top in a ransom note font.

“Wow, these look great, how much are they?” 

“Fifteen dollars each, most of the money from them is also going to the organisation,” Pav says. “We haven’t sold many.”

“Well we can buy two,” Jefferson says. They pay and grab their shirts, mixing with the rest of the crowd. 

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” Miles says as they walk away.

“It could’ve been worse,” Margo says. “Your dad could’ve come in uniform.”

“Oh god.”

“Someone would’ve jumped him,” Gwen says.

“Yeah, Hobie,” Pav jokes.

“I wouldn’t. Probably.”

“Please don’t jump my dad.”

“I just said I wouldn’t!”

“Uh, guys, I think we should go backstage. We’re on in fifteen,” Margo says, rallying a few calls of concern as they all hurry to pack up the shirts back into their cardboard boxes and get everything backstage. They somehow make it to stage right when they need to set up, and fifteen minutes later they’re good to go. The audience that dispersed during the short break to eat, chat and smoke gathers back in front of the stage, and Margo introduces the band. From her place at the drums, Gwen counts to four and they start the first song.

It’s almost like rehearsal, but better. They know the song, they know their cues, they know everything. But now they have over two hundred people cheering them on, dancing, and singing along to the repeating chorus. Before the stage lights went on, Miles even recognised people who went to previous shows they had. They like playing music, and people like the music they play. And they’re all on stage together, they play in something that’s almost harmony. It’s messy, it’s loud, it’s kind of good. More importantly, they play their truth. Margo yells into the mic about how she can’t walk down the street without feeling afraid, and when Miles looks around he sees everyone playing with the same intense focus he feels. They’re all smiling as wildly, like him. A song follows a song, sometimes they get an introduction, some of them just flow into one another. When they play a cover, they hear cheers of excitement in the crowd. Miles’s heart beats so hard in his chest he can hardly hear Gwen's drums make the stage shake. It all feels so right, too. This isn’t the music he listens to, but it’s the music he loves to make. And they’re doing something so good with this, they’re putting out a message, they’re raising money for charity, they’re having fun. They’re being crazy teenagers who are going to look back at this and wonder what they were thinking, or maybe they’ll just feel proud. But right now it’s happy.

Towards the end of the show Margo laughs and wipes her forehead with a towel. She leans into the mic and says: “So we have a bit of a surprise, for all of you and some of our bandmates, too. Everyone please put your hands together for our drummer Gwen Stacy, to sing I’m Only Happy When It Rains by Garbage.”

Miles looks between Hobie and Pav and they both shrug, indicating they had no clue what’s going on. Gwen gets up from the drum set and Margo takes her place. Gwen’s hands twitch as she walks up to the centre of the stage. She grins at Miles, who’s staring at her with bewilderment. She takes one breath, and they start playing the song.

They practiced it with Margo as the singer, so the song itself isn’t a surprise. But Miles never expected to see Gwen sing it. She said from the beginning it was less her thing. She sang for fun when they played music, or sometimes at practice as a joke, she sang backup vocals at shows. To see her stand at the mic, slowly gain confidence as the song goes on, was something no one really anticipated. Margo knows how the drum parts of the song goes, they clearly worked on this. How long did it take? No one seems to notice Miles’ internal questions as he keeps playing the song, listening to Gwen sing.

“I’m only happy when it rains,” she smiles, “you’ll wanna hear about my new obsession. I’m flying high upon a deep depression, I’m only happy when it rains.” 

The drum beats and the bass is booming, Miles is more focused on playing than he was at first, he lets himself have some fun with it. They all do now. Gwen laughs as she sings the chorus, Hobie adds a guitar riff that wasn’t in the original song. They make it theirs. And slowly Gwen’s singing fades out and people clap and cheer. Margo gets back up to the mic and Gwen sits at the drum set. Three more songs and they’re done. They thank the audience and take their equipment backstage.

“What was that?” Pav asks once they’re finally away from everyone else.

“Surprise!” Margo says then laughs. “We wanted to switch things up. It was Gwen’s idea, actually.”

“I figured I should try it at least once. It was… fun.”

“You were amazing,” Miles says. “You should sing some of our songs sometimes.”

“Oh definitely not, once in a while is fine. I like being a drummer.” She shrugs.

“Let’s find where all the other bands went,” Hobie suggests, and they find a little lounge behind the venue where around fifteen people sit around and hang out.

“Hey!” One of the girls greets them, she’s part of the first band that was on stage. “Great set!” She compliments, and everyone invites them to sit with them. 

“Were you all here the whole time?” Margo asks.

“Yeah, you can hear all the shows from here,” the girl says. Miles thinks her name was Katie. “And we can just chill and talk. Want something to drink? Ben brought a few cases of beer over there.”

They get drinks and sit down with everyone else. Gwen crashes on the same loveseat as Miles, two beer bottles in hand. He takes one and drinks, making a face. 

“You should probably tell your parents you’re hanging here,” Pav points out. 

“Right, shit. They won’t like this.” Miles scrambles to get his phone. “Hey Pav, can I say I’m sleeping at yours so I can go to Gwen’s? They officially banned it.”

“Ooooh.” Pav laughs. “Yeah, sure. Just be safe.”

“Oh my god.” Gwen face-palms.

“We’re just gonna watch a movie, be a grown up,” Miles says.

“Yeah, be a grown up Pav.” Gwen throws the cap of her bottle at him, and the three of them laugh.

Miles texts his parents quickly and lays his head back, listening to the band playing right now. Their drummer is crazy good, and Miles barely understands the vocalist. It’s chaotic, a bit more than Miles usually likes, but still good. He finishes his beer and it’s a little better by the end of the bottle. He thinks of going to get another one but his hands and legs are dead, maybe sitting there for a moment and listening to the music will help. 

After a while Pav gets up to get himself another drink, and gets Miles one too. He finishes this one faster, and the last band is about to end their set. Some of the people there dance around to the music, a small group move aside to smoke, and Miles and his band still sit there, with ten other people. Conversations happen around them, people laugh and he chimes in every now and then. Pav tells the group how they started the band and Gwen talks about everything they’ve done so far, and their plans for the future of the band. People with more experience offer some advice, and the conversation drifts away.

Two or three  beers later they’re all a little buzzed, and the show’s over. Miles thanks god in his head that his parents left him alone. He knew if they saw him drinking he wouldn’t be allowed out of the house until he goes off to college, maybe longer. 

Someone brings out a speaker and now everyone’s dancing. Not a single one of them is a good dancer, but they don’t care. Everyone’s a little drunk, some are a little high. They’re being way too loud, but that doesn’t matter either. The music is blaring and it’s harder not to move in the wilting grass behind the venue. 

When he looks around, Miles mostly sees people dancing or sitting around. Most of them hold beers, a lot of them have cigarettes or blunts, too. Hell, if anyone offered him one now he probably wouldn’t say no. He laughs to himself, maybe his parents were right about drinking. Someone grabs his hand and he turns around, seeing it’s Gwen. Her hair’s an absolute mess, and she’s smiling at him.

“Hey, we should probably head out. I promised my dad we wouldn’t be too late.”

“What time is it?” Miles checks his phone, and his eyes widen when he sees the clock creeping up to midnight. Time flies. “Yeah, let’s go. Shouldn’t we tell someone though?”

“Just send a text in the group, they’ll see it eventually.”

Miles does as she says, and they find their way back to the street. 

“Okay, it’s just a ten minute walk. I know a shortcut,” Gwen says and starts walking. Miles follows her, and they’re both a bit unstable. The area is still full of cars, and some people are still walking on the sidewalks. Miles and Gwen don’t get a single strange look as they manage to walk back to Gwen’s neighbourhood. The street they’re on is lined with finely trimmed trees yet the sidewalk is uneven. Or maybe Miles is just dizzy. They’re just five minutes away from Gwen’s house, then they can fall asleep in her room while a movie they’ve both seen a million times plays on her laptop.

“You were really great tonight,” Miles says. “I never thought I’d see you sing on stage like that. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Margo and I thought it’d be a fun surprise. I don’t think I’ll do it again, but thanks.” Gwen turns to him and smiles. He grins back.

They don’t say anything after that. Miles takes Gwen’s hand and their arms swing back and forth until they get to the apartment. Gwen’s dad is asleep when they walk in as quietly as possible. Gwen’s room is dark and warm, they’re cuddling in her bed and watching Coraline for what might actually be the hundredth time. It’s easy to imagine the night will stretch forever, Miles thinks as his eyes slowly shut; as he drifts into a slumber he thinks about the concert venue being cleaned right now.

Tomorrow dozens of people will walk in there to see the art hung on the walls and not know about the temporary stage that stood there, and the music that echoed through the gallery. He thinks about his friends, scattered all over the city in their houses. They’re going to get a long night of sleep, hopefully. They’ll talk again the next morning, after Gwen sneaks Miles out of her window before her father wakes up. They’re gonna start planning the next concert already, and write a new song. 

Gwen’s room is warm, small, and messy. She refuses to really clean it, she says the mess is comfortable. Considering the state of Miles’ dorm, he can’t say anything. Now he understands what she means, the mess does bring some comfort. It makes the room cozier, it makes him want to stay in there forever. Gwen turns over, still half awake like him. He touches her arm in the dark, and through lazy, heavy movements they find themselves in each other’s arms. 

“You gotta sneak out in the morning,” Gwen mumbles.

“Ugh.”

“Don’t complain.” Even with his eyes closed he can hear her smile. 

“We have band practice tomorrow.”

“Fuck.” Now Miles is the one to smile.

“Goodnight, Gwen.”

“Goodnight, Miles.”