I'D RATHER DIE THAN BE FAMOUS. [ BILL KAULITZ ]

.01

EINS.

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SOME PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE, a harsh reality [Y/N] hadn't learned to accept before losing her guitarist.
He was one of the best, a striking personality and appearance, his guitar skills like she'd never seen. — But he was gone, gone to egoistic tendencies and letting fame cloud his mind.

He changed.

She would never let that happen again, standing and pacing around the guitar section of a music shop.

The solution to losing your lead guitarist? Become one.
The only problem being she'd never picked up a guitar in her life, looking at all the different types, thinking hard.
She decided a few was better than one, opting for three total.

A hand tapped her shoulder as she waited for the cashier to ring up the guitars, she turned around, slightly startled.
"[Y/N], you know you don't have to do this." Her drummer said quietly.

Kole was obviously worried, his brows furrowed as he watched the total go up.
He was the oldest band member, 24, and the one she's known the longest.

He was tall, 6'2 1/2, he had blond buzzed hair, his clothes baggy, and an avid enjoyer of the girls in big cities.
He was attractive, not the most but most certainly not ugly.

Though the face of the band lies in the lead singer, herself. She was the showstopper.

[Y/N] knew he wasn't talking about the guitars, trying to rid her memory now fresh of their ex-guitarist.
"I'd rather not," She said, "—Talk about him.."

Kole shrugged, "All right."
He placed a pick on the counter, smiling once [Y/N] looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"You need a pick to play a guitar." He explained, [Y/N] pushing him, "I know that." She replied.

—

"MTV awards are nothing, we've done this a million times." Tracey shrugged, taking his hands off his bass and letting it hang from his shoulders.
[Y/N] scoffed, "Easy to say when you've been playing that bass since you were a toddler."

Tracey smiled sheepishly, "Not a toddler.. Maybe 6 years old."

[Y/N] strummed their newest song's chords on her guitar, blowing on her hand as it cramped.
Tracy did the usual bass routine, complimenting the guitar.

He was good at what he did, his hands gliding across the familiar frets, he could play all of their songs without looking.
Putting his bass down, letting it sit on its stand, he tied his long dreads into a half up half down. His hair was the most important thing in his life, the dreads in question reaching about below his shoulders, a black color with a few red accented ones.

They didn't blame him. his hair was what gave him that rockstar look anyway. He was tall, 6'0, and lanky.
His teeth shone when he smiled, making it his signature thing, the small gems on his teeth changing every month.
Tracey yawned, stretching and sitting down on [Y/N]'s guitar amp.

"Tracey, come on." Kole chimed, "We gotta practice, no breaks."
Being a three-man show was stressful, with long practices, but equally long breaks here and there.

Tracey sighed, picking his instrument back up, though he stayed seated.
"[Y/N], you sure you can learn all this before next week?" He asked, looking at the sprawled music sheets all over the floor. "We can always find a temporary replacement for—"

"Don't say his name." [Y/N] interrupted, both Tracey and Kole looking at her worriedly. They mostly worried about how hung up she was on him, it'd been weeks at that point.

"Sorry." Tracey said, clearing his throat as he tapped his bass with his hand, patiently waiting.

It was a small garage they practiced in, despite their fame, they'd grown an attachment to their small area and refused a new studio at their record label.
Well, they got a new studio anyway, obligated to record there. Though they always practiced in Tracey's garage, him being the only one with a house.

"I'm positive I can do this." [Y/N] muttered, "Have a little faith?"
Kole rolled his eyes, Tracey always joked he had a wide stare 24/7, making it known he had Heterochromia.
Though [Y/N] didn't blame him, if she had brown and blue eyes, she'd show it off too.

Beating his cymbals loudly, Kole caught both their attention. "[Y/N], if you're gonna get this before next week, we got to hurry up."

[Y/N] looked at the guitar in her hands, nervously biting her lip before Tracey threw one of the rubber bands on his wrist at her.
"You got it, [Y/N]." He said, "You're a natural."

Smiling at him, she nodded at Kole to indicate she was ready.
"Finally," Kole sighed, tapping his drum sticks together to start the song.

"One, two, three."