Drums Kits, Stage Dives, And Guys.

The clock seemed to laugh at him:

02.00

Amazing. It was the third time this week that he'd woken up at exactly two in the morning, and with a heavy sigh he knew that sleep was now unobtainable until tonight. Reaching over to flick the bedside lamp on he closed his eyes over to shield them from the brightness, blinking a few times, before wincing as he surveyed the state of the room. Everything was as he had left it, no clothes littered the floor, the computer was off, and the chair was neatly tucked under the desk. It brought a smile to his face, as with a yawn he pushed the quilt back off his body, gently tapping at his stomach as he hopped up to his feet, side stepping once to view himself in the mirror. His mouth suddenly hanging agape as he took in the sight of his hair.
" What a mess. "

He only shook his head in answer, tugging his boxers down from his hips, and traipsing into the shower in the next room. One tug of the hot water, and a turn of the dial and he was in business, the warm water surged from the shower head to splash down against his well toned, slightly tanned body. His eyes closed as the feel of the water just let him drift off into his own train of thoughts, how refreshing it was to wake up to a shower. No one else in the house awake yet, almost daring, the noise the water made seemed quite loud against the stillness of night, but it didn't bother him in the least. He simply got to washing his hair, and giving his body a once over with the shower gel, smirking at the scent of strawberry that accompanied it. Once finished, he simply gave his head a shake, turning off the shower and the water. Slipping a towel about his waist, he stared at himself in the mirror again, lifting his hands to ruffle through dark brown hair that looked almost black. He grabbed the towel from his waist, and quickly gave his head a scrub dry, tending to the rest of his body too, gently replacing the towel to it's home on the radiator, he wandered back into his room.

He threw on a fresh pair of black boxers, baggy jeans and a shirt that donned the word 'Ollie' in almost scribbled font. Checking the mirror once more, an eyebrow lifted at the way his hair flopped about over his forehead, now he remembered why he loved the invention of hair gel. Routing through his bed side drawer and picking up the tube, he eased some gel into his hands, gently bringing fingertips up to his hair to mess it up into a mass of spikes, a few straight and seemingly neat, whilst other drabs of hair just seemed to mingle. The result was perfect. His hair just the right length to spike; yet not too long that it sagged all over the place. To him, it was his best feature. Taking another quick look around the room, as if something might have gone missing, he gave a smile to the drum kit in the far corner. That itching feeling like the need to play, coursed through his hands. He had to refrain however, deep green eyes flashing to the clock on his desk.
03.15
A Sigh

Another four hours before the rest of the house would be awake, and he'd be free to drum away. Slumping down into the chair at his desk, he stretched his arms up towards the CD player, pulling green day from the CD tray, and slipping another in instead. His headphones were already hooked up; he had a pair that went behind his neck, of course, so that he wouldn't ruin his hair. Smirking, he looked down to the desk again, shoving a sheet of paper down. Foo Fighters blared out into his ears, and for a moment he drummed his fingers on the desk. Picking up a sharp pencil, he began sketching. He had no homework to do; it was always completed the night he received it. Busily, he absorbed himself with the advert he was drawing up for a band.

"Come back" had long finished, but the words and the steady beat of drums with the guitar still filled his head. It wasn't until he heard the faint 'beep-beep' of his alarm clock that he realised how long he'd been working, and with a contented look on his face, he pressed down the button on the clock. He heard the grumbles from his parent’s room, a smirk filling his lips as he shuffled over to the seat of his drum kit. He began belting out the same song that had been screaming at his head for the past few hours, yelling an 'I Will Come Back!' along with the tune in his head, the guitar and bass, still audible in his mind. For Dave, playing here wasn’t anything like playing at a live gig; but all the same, the usual flow of energy crossed his body. Quivering through his hands on each flick of the wrist, the same release was achieved as to free him of thoughts of the day ahead, and the hope of seeing that someone special in Music Class. A broad grin tugging at his lips as the images crossed his mind, what joy it was just to be in their presence. Crashing the sticks down onto the cymbals for the last time, he placed them back into their home on his chair, the ringing noise still echoing through the room, as he opened the door, calling a 'Morning Mum, Dad.' Only to be greeted with harsh mumbles of parents without their daily morning dose of caffeine. They loved his enthusiasm of course, but they hadn't expected a wake up call such as the one they got every morning, without fail, but for their eldest son, it was one of the best parts of the day.

Collecting up his advertisement an hour later, he slid it carefully into his bag. Shoving on a hoodie he’d received for his birthday in late may, he lifted his bag up onto his right shoulder. Scooping up a set of keys, and his mobile, along with a wallet that slid into his inside pocket. Giving a wave to his dad as he stood in the kitchen, he faintly heard a reminder from his father that he and his mother wouldn’t be at home until tomorrow night; he made his way off to school. The summer sun shone brightly, and it filled his lips with a smile. There was nothing better than the summer.