SCAREDY CAT - a fethan fluffy drabble

SCAREDY CAT - a history of music and love

 The September persistent bad weather was once again glazing London with a greenish coat that made the urban scene look like it'd been thrown out of a comic book.
It surprisingly wasn't raining and the city was a chaos of smoke, screamed swears and alcoholic fumes.
Ethan sighed and, making his way inside the club, blamed his anxiety for all the crap he was going through, especially on a night like that.
He was the founder member and lead guitarist of his emerging band The Murder Reactions.
The other members were Pudding Tom, a twenty-six year old drummer/beer lover that refused to wear anything but leather; Ben, a shy as hell Asian-albino teenager with an obsession for his bass; and Fox, who was the lead singer as well as the only girl of the group.
They were really good at what they did and they always had fun playing together even if, till now, their only musical experience consisted in improvised garage concerts and a few birthday party.
It was Saturday, and they were supposed to smash it at their first real gig in one of the best underground clubs in all London called Jane's.
They'd worked so hard for that gig, really.
Ethan remembered how hype they'd been all week, how lucky he'd felt during rehearsals.
But, as Fox always said, Ethan Daniel, was like a black cat, all smirks, soft purrs and bad luck.
It just seemed to rub off on him like those awful perfumes shop assistants insist on spray on you even if you tell them you're already wearing one.
It JUST never went away, and, he be damned if even on that important night, his bad luck wasn't going to ruin it all.


When they've arrived, some minutes after eleven, the club was already a mess.
There were Mohawk-provided old school punks fighting against the bar counter and it all smelled like beer, anticipation and sweat.
Making their way to the backstage, Fox placed her tiny hand against Ethan's back, pushing him away from the crowd and giggling in a way that made his loins squirm.
After greeting the owner, they started placing their instruments on the stage, their audience's excitement already hitting the roof, all eyes pointed on them with severe expectations.
Ethan's heart did a backflip.
We're doing this, he thought, tuning up his black and gold Gibson. We're doing this for real.
"Mic check, one, two, three," Fox meowled from his left, scratching her calf with her foot.
She seemed so comfortable in front of a crowd, holding her microphone between her sweaty palms.
The combat boots she'd chosen were scratched on the tips and her knee socks were the same shade of blue as her wavy hair.
Ethan blushed and felt a shiver running down his spine.
From behind, he heard Pudding Tom holding back a laugh.
Asshole, Ethan thought, clenching his jaw, and somewhat managed to move his eyes away while trying not to combust.

It wasn't exactly a secret, this awkward, violent crush Ethan had on Fox.
It was, actually, something so acknowledged and trite, either Ben and Pudding Tom had almost lost interest in teasing him for this a long time ago.
Only the girl concerned seemed not to notice when his cheeks went on fire around her, or probably, she wasn't touched enough to show it.
Murder Reaction was supposed to be a men-only kind of band, but after Ben and Pudding Tom had joined the group, they just couldn't seem to find the right voice among the guys they'd audictioned.
Once again, Ethan blamed it on his bad luck and so it was only the three of them, at least till Fox hadn't showed up to Ethan's garage on a terribly hot summer Friday afternoon, wearing a terribly ironic Revenge Gerard black tee, and asked, no, ordered, them to give her a try.
She explained, in her curious accent, that she'd seen a flyer with his address in a coin laundry in downtown, that just moved from Elkton, Maryland, a few weeks ago, and that her dream was to sing in a band.
Her hair was still blond, back then, and her tone was still a little grasp, but HOLY FUCK, the way her voice reached every single note sped Ethan to the moon and back in less than a nanosecond.
After all those months together, she still had the same effect on him.
No, it definitely wasn't a secret, at all.


Two years after, they'd pretty much all got better and now they shared a bond that only comes with experience, closeness and the right amount of trust.
They played together almost everyday, after school, or in Pudding Tom's case, after work.
Some of their songs were My Chemical Romance's covers and Fox had long convinced them to try a faster version of When the Day Met the Night by Panic! At the Disco.
Ethan secretly liked to think it was their song, even if he'd never admitted it to anyone, let alone Fox herself.
Lately, anyway, as Ethan had grown up and took interest in writing, he'd started experimenting the joy of writing his own lyrics and now The Murder Reactions claimed the tune of a half dozen original tracks.
Fox had screamed when Ben'd announced his father, a huge big shot down at music department, had set them with this gig at Jane's.
They all shared her amusement, nodding their head and smiling like idiots.
It seemed so unreal, so far away from where they'd start.
Ethan'd preyed every single night that separated them from the concert that all would go well.
He, apparently, hadn't preyed enough.


They were supposed to start at 11:30 pm, right after a queer-core band called Bad Puns.
Ethan's legs were shaking in his old, stained jeans, and his chest heaved with the burden of a new possible failure.
He wasn't exactly the kind of guy that let emotions drive him crazy, but still, that was too much to handle.
"Mic check, one, two, three...," Fox repeated, jerking him back into the present.
As he raised his eyes from his Gibson, he stilled.
The audience had somehow triplicated, people kept moshing other people around from one side to the other of the tiny dance floor that was opposite to the stage.
There were so many eyes observing every single move of his, so many faces ready to judge his hard work.
Fox took a couple steps to the side, her straight nose wrinkling at the way Pudding Tom had tucked his crippled top inside his leather pants.
When she was a few inches from Ethan, he smelled the scent of her shampoo, something refreshing and appealing at the same time.
"You ready, tiger?" she asked, winking at him.
He swallowed and nodded, trying to focus on something that wasn't the demanding crowd in front of him, or the way her eyes seemed even more bright under the strobes.
She stroked his forearm –oh, what those hands could do to his skin!-, and paced to where Ben stood, for the final adjustments of their set list, even though there was no reason to do so.
They'd practiced often enough for them not to fail, really.
Fox returned to her spot, a sharp smile painted on her face, impatient to start the fun.
It was going to be great, it was going to be a blast and people would remember The Murder Reaction as one of the best groups to ever exist.
The crowd began to hype, Pudding Tom's drum sticks ready on the drums.
And that's when Ethan blew it off by having the most intense panic attack of his life.


He wasn't too young to legally drink, nor to drive a car, but he was old enough to understand life should have treated him better.
Leaving them all with dropped jaws and disappointed whistles, Ethan dropped his guitar on the stage and ran out from the backstage door, hiding in the alley behind the club.
His heart was pounding so loud in his ears, a violent storm of shame.
He just wanted to go home, sink his messy face in his pillow, sleep for a thousand years and forget about everything.
Ethan pressed his back harldy against the grimy wall, the smell of garbage filling his nostrils.
Sliding down the wall, he hid his head between his knees, his hands still trembling.
"You there, kitty?" Fox's voice came from somewhere near.
He felt the need to dig a whole with his bare hands and bury himself away.
Ethan could recognize that adorable accent everywhere but he wasn't sure he'd liked her to see him in that state.
He managed a mumble, his tongue glued to his palate.
He felt her coming closer, his lungs going dry each minute.
A gentle hand sneaking under his chin, forcing his head up.
When he opened his eyes, she was there, sitting on her heels, her face so close to his he could count her lashes on by one if only he had the strength to form coherent thoughts.
"Breathe," she whispered, her fingertips moving from his jaw to his temple. He did as she told, inhaling deeply. "You okay?"
Ethan shook his head, lightly.
Her fingers kept rubbing the sweaty skin around his eyes, calming him down a bit.
His heart was still racing but the panic attack was now half the reason.
"What happened in there, Ethan?"
Ethan found his voice, lost somewhere deep within his ribcage. "I...I freaked out"
Fox chuckled, biting her lower lip. "You scaredy little cat. We've practiced so much, there's no need to be afraid"
"I failed it," he breathed, puffing his cheeks. "I failed the band. I failed you"
She almost slapped him with her free hand. "No, you didn't. Look, it's okay to be nervous. Just...don't think less of yourself just because you're not as brave as I am. I mean, I'm practically perfect"
This made him laugh, reluctantly. "That's true"
"You can do this, Ethan. We can do this"
"What if I stumble again? What if they don't like our music or our songs or..."
"We don't play for people to like us. We play because we love music and we're fucking good at it"
She smiled. Her hand wandered down his neck, trailing along his chest and stopping right across the middle of his ribs.
He gulped down when her eyes widened.
"Your heart is beating really fast"
"I know"
"Is it because of the panic attack or...?"
"Or," he admitted, feeling his cheekbones reddening.
"I see," she said, bending lower so her forehead was now inches from his. "Maybe I know what would help you"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah", she repeated, and licked her lips before bending over and kissing him.
It was just a peck, really, like the memory of a kiss, but his body reacted the way it was supposed to react.
His synapses weren't working properly, or maybe they were working way too properly for him to do anything but press his mouth against her with even more transport.
She broke the kiss first, but she didn't go far.
"Better?" she teased, playfully.
Ethan forgot how to speak for a moment and when he replied, his voice cracked. "I think so"
Fox giggled, both her hands reaching the back of his neck, her thumbs caressing the nap of his hair. "Uhm, maybe we should do it again, you know, just to be sure"
"To be sure, yes" he chocked, then placed his palms on her knees and went for it.
This time, it wasn't sweet at all.
It wasn't even a good kiss, actually.
It was rough, almost ugly, a full mouthed and clenching teeth assault that told a lot about their fears and desires.
It made his heart boil in his veins.
Ethan felt like he was about to die, and, at the same time, he'd never been more alive.
She departed first, again.
"Wowza," Fox said, a faint hint of pain running across her face.
Ethan forced a smile but there was a thunder in his belly. "What does that even mean?"
"It means what it means," Fox shrugged, her hair flying around her face, and he thought he couldn't have loved her more. "You ready, now?"
"I'm still terrified"
"Good," she exclaimed, standing up on her feet. "Your hair is really messy. I like it"
He flushed, looking up at her from where he was still sitting. "Hey, Fox"
"Yes?"
"Thanks"
She blinked and cocked her head to the side. "Anytime, kitty"
"You really sure this is going to work?" he asked, and he was sure she understood he wasn't just talking about their concert.
"Of course"
She reached out and offered him her smooth lady palm.
"Together?" he asked, grabbing her hand.
She helped him stand up and watched him from above her shoulder.
With another large smirk, Fox wrapped her arm around his waist and tickled his ear with her warm breath.
"Till the very end" she said. "We're Ethanol and Fire-Fox. And now, we're going to set this place on fire"
Feeling like a god, Ethan realized that, with his fingers entwined to hers, even a scaredy cat wasn't going to be that scared anymore.