Hit that Snare [o]

[Jeffrey Dougal]

~Wearing
~Inspiration

Jeff actually didn't listen to many American bands. He just....preferred his nation's music more. He understood it easier. It didn't take work to translate the references or slang as much--he had that problem just talking to teenagers his own age here. However, there were a few bands that filtered through, simply because he liked the music and could tune out the singers enough to enjoy it. Paramore, was oddly one of those bands.

The first time he had heard this song was on the radio a few years ago, on the way to the grocery store with his mother. The drums just reached out to him in one particular song--they weren't particularly complicated or even semi difficult. It was just rooted into his cortex. It festered, got stuck in his head. He went through a period of absolutely hating the band for the song that he heard whenever he slid into the car, but eventually....he came to terms with it, and just used the beat of the song to help him warm up. He even came up with an awesome variation of the chorus, which totally sounds bad ass.

Today, that very song managed to come up during his shufflefest on his iphone. He had over two-thousand songs (most in Korean, but there was a growing percentage of English) and he had playlists for different moods, but on days like today he just put it on shuffle for his whole library. He had been ready to just relax in his dorm for the day--this very unexciting Saturday morning--but when this song came on, well he had the urge to play the drums. He didn't really put any thought into the clothes he pulled on, nor did he bother with socks and any of his shoes and just slid his feet into a pair of flip flops.

Drumsticks in hand, Jeff navigated his way to his destination; the music room.

He wasn't sure if he was actually allowed to be in here or not, but over the year he had been here, he had spent a lot of time in the room playing the drums. He slipped in the door, glanced around and was relieved that he was the only one in. He started the song over after he was situated on the little stool with his feet on the bass and symbol pedals respectively. He let out a slow breath and started playing along immediately, his face contorted in concentration.

[Braxton Carson]

Nicotine was such a terrible vice. Not long after arrived at Hammel, almost thirteen years old, he had his first taste of it, and since then, he needed to smoke at least two cigarette a day. He had tried to quit it, but it had proved to be too hard so he just concentrated on diminishing the quantity of cigarettes a day he allowed himself to smoke, and considering the fact that at first he started with one pack a day, he was doing really well. He was already an expert in smoking on campus, by now he knew all the spots he could smoke with no one noticing and he even had a schedule, and on Saturday mornings, just after a light breakfast, instead of taking his morning jog, he rested on weekends, he went up to the solitary band room to enjoy his unhealthy delight.

As he approached the band room his mouth was already salivating a bit and his knees twitching a little, it felt like an eternity since his last smoke. Only when he opened the door and enter, his hands ready to take the pack and lighter from his pockets, the sound of the drums of a song he recognized reached his ear. It was most likely due to the fact that the room had been soundproofed to avoid bothering other classrooms. Crap. He quickly considered all the other places to go smoke, but the closest one, which he knew would be empty, required crossing the campus, in the other side of the pond.

"Nice drums." He approached the asian kid clenching his fist to avoid showing off his anxiety. "Your tempo is a bit too fast for Misery Business, but still sounds good." He knew about music, something not many people knew of him. "Hey, can I ask you a personal favour?" He was now in front of the drums the boy was playing. "Do you mind if I smoke a cigarrete? Just one. And can it be our secret? What do you say?"

[Jeffrey Dougal]

It's a matter of time before we all run out. When I thought he was mine, she caught him by the mouth. I waited eight long months, she finally set him free. I told him I couldn't lie, he was the only one for me. Two weeks and we caught on fire, she's got it out for me.

The woman sang into his ears, his big head phones situated on his ears. He didn't exactly try his best as this was him just warming up, but he did know his speed was a little off about halfway through the song. He was playing ahead. He just opened his eyes to orientate himself with his position and to slow his pace, but he spotted a boy enter the band room. He ended his playing immediately and slid the headphones off his ears. How long was the boy there? He scratched the side of his head a little in embarrassment.

He had just been enjoying himself so he was pretty sure he was making some stupid faces. As the boy approached, Jeffrey smiled a little uneasily at him as he commented on his drums. At first he had complimented him and then he pointed out he had been playing a little fast--though Jeff was glad the boy could at least recognize the piece he was playing. "Thank you. I was just warming up." The Korean boy spun one of the drumsticks in his fingers to punctuate this. When the boy asked him for the favor, Jeff arched an eyebrow at him curiously, wondering who on earth this boy was.

A cigarette? "Go right ahead." Jeff couldn't make a hypocritical statement about how those were bad for you, because Jeff partook in the smoking of weed on many occasions. He hadn't in a little while, but he was always game to. Cigarettes, on the other hand, weren't really his cup of tea, he didn't like how they made him smell or how they died his teeth yellow. "Just open a window." He smiled a little.

[Braxton Carson]

"Right." YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!! Braxton took the cigarette pack and lighter from his back pocket, putting one in his mouth and lighting it with perfect expertise in the blink of an eye.

He could perfectly feel how the anxiety was already going away with the first smoke and god, he could feel his soul coming back to him in relieve. This thing will kill me one day. He took two steps towards the closest window and by raising his left hand a bit, Braxton managed to give it vertical momentum and open it without touching it just before walking back to the Asian kid. He took another breath of his cigarette while looking at the boy and attempting to remember when was the last time he had played music. Back when he was in music classes he had learned to play the piano and then managed to learn, by himself, how to play the synthesizer, but he never practiced much and, due to the side-effect of his ability, inflammation and numbness of limbs, he never managed to be very good at it. Still, from time to time he dusted the synth he kept in his room and learned a song or two as a way to release stress, but since graduation rush started, about two months ago or so, he haven't even thought of playing.

Nodding to himself, Braxton then decided to walk towards the large black synth next to the drums, cigarette still in his mouth, and cracked his fingers while sitting in the uncomfortable stool.

"I don't know Misery Business." He managed to say without taking the cigarette off his mouth. "But I know a couple others of them." He started playing some single notes and pushing buttons to change the tone into one that would fit a Paramore song. "Crushcrushcrush. That's what you get. Fences. Decode, though don't ask why I learned that one. I don't know any from the new album, though, but Playing god doesn't seem too hard."

[Jeffrey Dougal]

Jeff could see this boy was a seasoned smoker, by the ease at which he lit the stick and everything. Jeff wasn't nearly as clean about lighting blunts, or pipes, or bongs--depending on the method of getting high he was using, mainly because he wasn't an every-day use sort of person. Though when he did, he played the best music. He could actually go for some at the moment, but as it so happened, his stash had been drained thanks to that dorm party a few weeks ago. He had not yet gotten more because he hadn't really wanted any, and his allowance had just been spent on spring clothing.

He was slightly surprised to see that the boy didn't just stay at the window, but actually came over and sat down behind the keyboard nearby. Jeff didn't think that because he could play an instrument, that everyone he met could do the same. He tried not to hold anyone to an expectation like that because it was awkward when it wasn't true, and he felt pretentious when he managed to pin someone right. It was just better all around if he didn't assume anything, especially with his power having the tendency to broadcast his thoughtful musings. It got him into trouble quite a lot.

He plucked his iphone out of his pocket to pause the song--and to conserve his battery-- and turned his head to look at the guy as he settled himself and got the keyboard ready for playing. Jeff knew a handful of the songs the boy mentioned--mainly the ones that were off the same album as Misery Business. Jeff liked buying the entire album from the itunes store instead of just getting the one song from an artist--or downloading illegally. He figured his illegal habit was already taken by marijuana, and supporting the artist wasn't a bad thing. He nodded his head and randomly struck the drums and symbols around him for a moment. "Fences is a good one." He nodded his head and then lifted his headset to his ears, after maneuvering through his music library, he landed on the Riot! album and tapped the song, it started playing in his ears, and on his cue, he started playing.

Jeff, however, did not sing.

[Braxton Carson]

With no warning, the boy had started playing Fences. It was a good choice, song's most powerful instrument, and the leading one, was the drums, with little to no support from other than the occasional strings. Although Braxton felt a little attacked at this choice, he had actually learned to perform the song without the need of drums, actually replacing them along with the strings. After cracking for a second time his fingers, he started playing along with the boy, trying to keep his pace, which seemed rather hard at first but after a couple of seconds, they played in quite good synchronicity. Too bad drums plus synth just didn't sound that well.

Up until now Braxton had never considered the idea of a band, the idea actually made him a little sick, he was not a team player, but performing such a good song in such a mediocre way (one thing was performing one instrument, but using more than one and still missing something was mediocre) made him wonder how good would it sound with someone playing the guitar with them. Sick. He wasn't worried about singing though, some songs transmit the feeling good enough without the need of voice, at least as long as the person listening knew the song from before.

"You've got a girl?" Braxton asked/yelled midway through the song, almost letting his cigarette fall from his mouth. "If we get a guitarist we can get tons!" He attempted laughing, but fearing that the lung-cancer-cylinder would fall, he only smiled. "No singer though, they always get them all." Now I really wish I could sing... outside the shower. "I feel like we're killing the song like this, with no strings."

[Jeffrey Dougal]

Jeffrey realized just before the bridge that his song choice wasn't exactly fair, but it was far to late to stop at this point, and from the corner of his eye, he could see the boy was playing along. Sure, the drums kinda drowned him out, so Jeffrey lightened up a bit, to give the boy--who was still nameless--a chance to be heard. It was only fair. Jeff would be willing to let him pick the next song, if the pianist even wanted to play another song with him. The Korean boy could admit when he'd been a bit rude, and he didn't get the chance to play with other people often; conflicting tastes in music.

Believe it or not, Jeff wasn't too keen on the idea of being in a band--sure he was good, and he loved doing it--because he felt that if he started to seriously try to put words to his drumming and find someone to play guitar, bass, piano, and whatever other instrument, then it would become too much like work. The drums was something Jeffrey could play to get away from everything that stressed him out, he didn't know what he would do if playing the drums also added to his stress. He might pop.

When the boy shouted at him, his drumming faultered for a moment but he recovered like the rock star he had in him and turned his head to look at him for a moment. "A-a girl? No." Jeffrey'd never even kissed a girl before. Not on the lips anyway. There was a girl at his school in South Korea that he'd held hands with and kissed on the cheek once, but she decided she didn't like him. Broke his six year old heart. Since then, he just hasn't really cared enough about anyone to date or get close to. Moving to America also just scared him, his English wasn't perfect, and he didn't want to be made fun of because of his different culture.

Jeffrey laughed then at the boy's follow up on his question and he shrugged a shoulder--as best he could while playing--and looked back down at his drums. The drummer, as he noticed from his lurking around the clubs in Pilot Ridge, was the overlooked member of the band, as he generally got the sweatiest and was hidden from the crowd behind the singer and the drums themselves. He did not really mind this, people set him on edge. "Somewhere Paramore is wincing." It was his lame attempt at a joke. At the end of the song he simply let his beat die and he wiped his brow with one hand and looked at the boy.

"I do not think I would like to be in a band, but I would enjoy playing with you again in the future." He hated his formal talk, but that was all he could really do. His accent wasn't so bad, but he still looked away quickly from the boy. "My name is Dougal--" conflicting cultures again. "Jeff, I mean." He corrected himself with a frustrated blush creeping around his cheekbones.

[Braxton Carson]

The other boy's comment made Brax chuckle a little, but not enough for his cigarette to fear falling, fortunately. They kept playing up until the end of the song when he heard the response of his subliminal question about a band. It was a good response, it wasn't like Braxton wanted to be in a band either, aside from the groupies, it didn't call his attention, but playing with someone, well, that did seem like an interesting exercise... sort of.

Taking his cigarette from his mouth with his left hand, it was now little beyond half the cylinder and it still tasted like heaven.

"Dougal Jeff?" Braxton grinned. "An interesting first name. Dougal. Doug. You're dog, Doug!" He smoked a little more while putting his left hand in in his pocket. "I'm Braxton. Nice to meet you or whatever." Cigarette once again in his mouth, being holded only by his lips, he started playing random notes and parts of songs he knew, mostly rock. "Why don't you like bands? It's almost every musician's dream. What makes you part of the group that puts an almost in that sentence?" Remembering a song he always loved to play, he attempted to crack his fingers to no avail and with his left hand, started playing Savin' Me by one of his all time favorites, Nickelback. Before he had to use his right hand, he lowered with it the volume a bit to be able to keep the conversation from dying because of the music, and not knowing if Doug actually knew the song. "Like Nickelback? This one's called Savin' Me. Not my favorite, but one of the best ones, and sounds beautifully in piano."

[Jeffrey Dougal]

He rotated his shoulders in their sockets, and stretched out his back. His muscles were good and woken up now. He was ready for the harder stuff. Though of course he didn't want to tire himself out so soon. He usually was here for a good few hours, just playing his heart out. After sessions like that, his arms and legs felt like noodles. Today might end up being a day like that, if the two of them kept playing like this.

He shook his head faintly. "Dougal is my surname. Jeff is my first. In South Korea, you introduce last name, first. You only tell close friends your first name. It is not that way here." Of course Braxton would know that. "It is nice to meet you." He echoed with a small nod of his head. If Braxton was being sarcastic at that point, it was lost on Jeff. He scratched the back of his head, stick still in hand, as he thought about how to answer Braxton's question.

"My power....I do not work well with others. Often. They do not like to hear," he waved at his head, "my thoughts all the time. Opinions of what I do not say." He shrugged a little. That wasn't the only reason, but it was a large factor. He nibbled on his lip as he looked at his drums. He would very much like to be able to control his thoughts to just stay in his own head, but it was very, very difficult. It was like trying to stop your hair growing; impossible. Jeff sighed.

"Nickle...back?" The tone of his question and his hesitation was answer enough. Jeffrey had never heard of the band before. He scratched his head again. "Wait. I have Pandora." Gotta love apps, right? He went to the app on his phone, and after a moment, he searched the song and slid his headphones on. He listened to it, not even paying attention to the vocals, but the drums. He picked it up pretty fast and lightly started playing along with Braxton, with it still playing softly in his ears. Of course he faltered and messed up here and there, but if was obvious of his musical talent at how quick he was to fix his rhythm and find his place again.

[Braxton Carson]

For a guy that had never heard of the band, Doug, or Jeffrey, apparently, was picking up the song really quick. Even though it was not the first time Brax had seen a proficient musician do something like this, it never ceased to amaze him. It wasn't the ability per se, no, it was mostly the fact that it wasn't a skill that could be practiced much, it was a skill that some people are borned with. Just like some people can paint really good without having no education on it, some people are just naturally virtuoso. I like that word. Virtuoso. Virtuoso. It flows right out of your mouth.

Still playing through the song, and wondering if the other boy wanted, or not, to keep talking, Braxton started wondering about the reason behind the band thing. To Brax, by the way he talked, this boy was either having a cultural crash or was just plain shy, but taking into consideration what he talked, things pointed towards the second and Braxton was not that good at reading people... besides blonde girls, but then again, incentive boosts everyone's skills at everything.

"But you look like a Doug, you know? I mean the name, not the animal. Doug is a good name for you." He kept graciously playing the song as he talked. "Do you oft..." Braxton left his cigarette fall from his mouth and caught it quickly with his hands. Reflexes. He burnt. "Jesus!" He exclaimed while dropping the cigarette, this time falling in his jeans, which prompted him to push it aside before burning his clothes. "That should teach me to stop smoking..." He said while pressing his slightly-burnt palm to his mouth to salivate the wound and walking towards the spot where the cigarette landed. Exhaling, and with little concentration, he pulled the trick which took him the most time to learn at power training: activating them without the need to move his hands, making the cigarette fly upwards from the ground, and exhaling a second time, the little lung-cancer-cylinder stopped in mid-air close to his mouth. He took it with his right hand and placed it back in his mouth. "Then again it's a shame to waste the little guy, no, Doug?" He turned and smiled at his jamming-mate, not even knowing if he had even noticed the thing behind his headphones. "You know, I actually thought girls liked men that smoked. That it looked cool. Turns out they don't. Now I have another vice and probably black lungs." He walked back to the synth with a smile in his face. "Good thing I don't care about either. What about you, Doug? Got any vice?"

[Jeffrey Dougal]

It had been liked this the first time he had ever sat behind a drum set. He was over at his next door neighbors house, playing with his friend, when the two of them stumbled into the older brother's room while they were wrestling. Jeff spotted the drum set, and almost like a magnet he was drawn to it. He sat down behind it for a minute and tapped each of the drums with his hands, listening to them. Each time he hit one, and made a sound, he thought of the songs he had heard before and made the connections, so this is what makes that sound. His friend, stood watching, handed Jeff some drum sticks and Jeff just started hitting them, making what he thought was a beat. Of course it took him a little while to get used to the bass drum but the astonishment on his friend's face was something Jeff will never forget. Jeff was good.

At the end of the song, he exited out of the internet radio app and looked up at him. To be honest, Braxton, you are on both accounts. Jeff is an awkward turkey in foreign lands, even if he had been living here more than a few years. He didn't acclimate well from the American base to Hammel and the shock of it still left him painfully shy. And that wasn't even adding in his already shy and withdrawn nature. Once you top that off with his ability to leak his most private thoughts, well you don't get a very outward happy Asian boy.

Jeff didn't think he looked like a Doug, or any other name. He was Jeffrey, and that had been his name all his life. His parents, even his birth parents, had called him Jeffrey and it was only until he went to the American High school that people started to call him Jeff. It was weird at first but he soon came to realize that was just the American way, so he didn't try to fight it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Braxton drop the cigarette and he winced as the boy shouted out in pain after he caught it. No doubt it hurt. Jeff shook his head, he was not judging the boy for his addiction to smoking, but he did not agree with it. They just did nothing for you but slowly drain your money, health, and hygiene. Some might say he was the pot calling the kettle black, but he only smoked weed occasionally and more often than not out of a bong. And according to him that is a big difference to blunts.

"My vices?" He asked, getting drawn out of his inner debate. "Getting high," he admitted finally. "To help me relax." And study for tests, but he didn't think Braxton was one of those people that knew that weed was not a bad thing, by any stretch of the imagination. Jeff could go on for days about how it wasn't bad for you, and he wasn't a 'pot head' by any means. It almost got on his nerves about how those that abuse the herb are the stereotype. You will not be like them if you smoke weed. You just won't.

[Braxton Carson]

Getting high, the boy said. Inside Braxton's head, the little words triggered a long train images, picture after picture, each one of them with his sister on it. His face expression turned suddenly into a rather serious one. He remembered her sister getting high from everything she could, her state several times he found her around downtown or even the school, she mumbling words with no coherence, she behaving like a mindless animal, she seducing men to get her hands on more drugs or money to buy them later. He hated her. He hated what the drugs made her.

He took the cigarette from his mouth, and making not a single sound, he walked up to the window, pressed the lit side to the wall, putting it off, and threw it as far as he could forty-five degrees into the sky with the help of his power. Without looking at Doug, because Braxton was determined that he was a better Doug than a Jeff, he turned and slowly walked towards the exit.

"Goodbye." He said before opening the door and exiting. He just didn't need another drug-user in his life.