𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 | robin buckley x(fem) reader

Faded Memories

Songbird.

The nickname Corroded Coffin had given you the first time you grabbed that mic. Hidden memories of your audition came flooding back, flushing your brain with nostalgia.

You were taken back to the fall of 1981. You were only fourteen at the time, almost fifteen. A freshman at Hawkins High.

You walked up an empty driveway with an audition flyer for Corroded Coffin. 

The names of the members were written on the flyers. The names were all somewhat familiar, since the guys in the band had all grow up in the same schools as you.

But the band wasn't new to you. Just a few years back, the Hawkins Middle cheer team participated in the schools talent show.

Something about dancing with friends and soaring through the air felt so comforting. It made you feel like you could fly.

Corroded Coffin had also participated at the show. And something about the scrawny boys with torn clothing and second-hand instruments was so mesmerizing. They didn't give a damn what other people thought of them, which was sort of weird to think about. They just wanted to have fun.

And here you were. About to try out for that same band. You felt four pairs of eyes follow you as you nervously made your way towards the open garage door. 

Three of the boys smiled at you as you walked up, while one stayed back with his arms crossed, sitting on a lawn chair. 

Back then, you had know all their names, but now, you had to think hard just to remember their initials. Except for the boy on the lawn chair. You thought that always remember him as one of your closest friends, until you'd left the band. 

By now, you'd remember him as just Eddie. The freak of the school.

You'd stepped over the orange-brown leaves that lined up outside the garage, blown there while the door must've been closed.

"So, you wanna try out to be our lead vocalist?" One boy asked, sitting behind his drum set.

You nodded and shrugged. "My friends have always said I have a good voice-"

"We don't need good, we need great." Eddie complained, leaning back in the lawn chair.

The drum player pointed a hand towards him and rolled his eyes. "Yo, Eds. Just give her a chance?" 

The rest of the band looked at him, as you tightly gripped the poster, leaving crumpled spots and indents from your fingernails on the paper.

Eddie stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth, took a deep breath, and sighed. "Let's see what you got, Pom-Pom princess." 

Your gut tensed up at his nickname. "Okay, first off, I'm not a 'Pom-Pom princess', or whatever the hell you said," you placed the crumbled flyer on a table and walked over to the mic, adjusting it to your height. "I just wanna try out, but if you really need a vocalist, you'll quit it with the names."

Eddie raised his eyebrows in a sarcastically-surprised way. The rest of the band stayed quiet.

You continued to fidget with the mic, talking to the older boy with your back turned. "So, what'll I be singing? Or at least what are some things you want to see?"

Eddie stood up from his chair and picked up an older electric guitar. "We we're thinking of starting off with something easy. Like a warm up, maybe some Aerosmith or Queen? The  work your way up to Black Sabbath, Evil Woman or something. Take your pick."

You answered without hesitation. "Dream on by Aerosmith, then Wicked World by Black Sabbath." The band members got into position and looked at you, making sure you were ready to start.

Once you were all finished with both songs, the four boys gathered in a huddle. You anxiously squirmed amongst yourself, a little nervous for the outcome.

You'd thought you'd done well, but was it well enough for the rest of them?

After a few more moments of the group's discussion, they all spaced out. 

Blank expressions were on all their faces, walking towards you.

An upset feeling grew in your stomach.

Was I really that bad?

Thoughts like those pierced your brain, until grins were spread over their empty faces.

Eddie stuck a hand out towards you. You shook his hand as he said with a smile, "Welcome to the band, songbird." The name had stuck from there on out.

The three other boys cheered as Eddie's eyes gleamed, but that gleam was different from now. His current gleam was glassy and panicked, somewhat terrorized. 

You couldn't help but think, 

what the hell happened?