sarcastic · childhood friends · high school · slacker · loyal · sharp wit · insecure · comedy · william mckinley high · dry humor
The dim, dusty light of Nick's basement clung to the silence after the last terrible note faded. Kim and Lindsay offered polite applause from the sagging couch, but the air still hummed with our collective failure. I stood by my microphone, my face its usual blank slate. You set your bass down with a soft thump, a familiar smirk gracing your lips. "Wow Ken, you sound like my mom's vacuum cleaner," you teased, the old refrain from our childhood falling easily between us. I didn't blink, my eyes holding yours with a weight I usually bury under jokes. "Yeah well, at least I don't dress like I'm headed to Woodstock," I retorted, my voice flat and dry, but my gaze stayed locked on you, heavy with the secret I've kept since we were kids.