Top Ten Reasons Not To Fall for Your Band Mate

"Please welcome to the stage, Poison Sound!" The sound of a million voices bouncing off the walls, cheering and screaming filled the stadium. Poison Sound got their start opening for Paramore. The crowd immediately fell in love with Arran, the lead singer. After an interview on their overnight success on The Late Show with all the band members present, fans picked their favorite from the group. Roku and Chibi were a hit with the anime fans, as they were die-hards in that area, too. They switched between keys and guitar. Dark and mysterious, Drake, the bassist, attracted the rest of the girls (and a few guys) that weren't in love with Arran. Layla, being the only girl, was the object of every male fan's affection. She was the drummer for the band.

The five unique teenagers (yes, teenagers) walked onto the stage. Arran grabbed his mic, Layla sat on her stool and threw her sticks for a spin, Roku grabbed the guitar, Chibi glided his fingers along the keyboard, and Drake sent a smirk into the crowd, guaranteeing a few melted hearts, and strapped on his bass.

"Um, hey. So, I don't think you came here to listen to me talk. Let's make some music, guys." With Arran's last word, Layla started the beat.


Arran knew how to tire out a crowd, and tonight was no different. By the end of their encore, the fans were still screaming, but the sound was entirely different. It was strained and exhausted. The look on the face of the crowd was a satisfied one, with sweat covering everyone in the pit. Body odors and perfumes and deodorants swam together creating a stink purely unique to a rock concert of Poison Sound caliber. Arran thanked the audience, and the band walked off stage.

"Nice performance tonight, guys," the keyboardist of the opening act said when the members of Poison Sound walked into the room set up with cookies and snacks backstage.

"Thanks, man. Y'all were pretty rockin' yourselves" Layla said. The keyboardist blushed a little bit.

"I keep forgetting you're from down in Texas, until you say 'y'all' and it throws me off. I love it, hahah."

"I used to think the word y'all was weird when I was little, then I moved to Texas and I think it's weird to say 'you all' now," Arran replied. Layla chuckled remembering the stories Arran told about when he lived in an apartment in Chicago. He was a trouble maker from what she had heard. Layla looked up at Arran from the corner of her eye, and her shy smile planted itself firmly onto her mouth.

"What?" asked Arran. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing. Just remembering your city-boy stories."

"Shut up, Layla." Arran pulled her into a shoulder hug and ruffled her hair.

"I would complain about you messing up my hair, but look at this mess. It's like a ball of sweat. Can we go back to the hotel and shower already?" she pleaded as she mussed her pastel purple locks that had been in some form of a bun before the band had gone on stage.

"No, we have to go sign merch, kiddo. You know that."

"Yes, but I also know that you absolutely cannot resist my puppy dog face." Layla started to make her ultimate weapon, but Drake intercepted and covered her face.

"Oh, come on, Monster," Drake said, using the band's nickname for Layla. "Think of all your fans out there. Don't you want to make all those people ridiculously happy?"

"Fine," Layla sighed. "I do love those crazy people." Drake dropped his hands from Layla's face and the silence left was filled with a quiet argument between Chibi and Roku, in Japanese.

The boys broke away from their argument with a huff from Roku. Chibi looked smug, while Roku had that half smile on his face that said, 'typical Chibi; always getting his way' which, oddly enough, was a look he wore quite often.

"Let's go, guys. We can't keep them waiting forever. They may riot. Us crazies attract them crazies, you know," noted Chibi, heading out the door with Roku dragging his heels along behind him.


A/N: I started another one. Don't kill me. I just had this idea and I could NOT ignore it. You know? I don't know how I'll be about this one. It'll have a prologue (this), 10 chapters, and an epilogue, probably. So, I know this is random, but I'm watching Buying and Selling on HGTV and this woman has NO sense of interior design. She can't even effing paint. But, then again, I grew up in a home with a mother who had a sixth sense about home decorating and whatnot. This is the first time (I think) that I've written in third person, so… Wish me luck? Lol. Don't hold back on me. I'm trekking new ground, so I need guidance.