In the heat of the beat and the lights
May. 12th, 2008 06:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonoflongshotAiden was sure classes were over this time. There was no Hana trailing behind him and clearing her throat. He had honestly thought classes were done for the day at noon! He walked into his dorm room and walked past the empty part. It would be for a roommate when he got one. The boys dorms seem to be filling up slower than the girls were. While half of the room was bare and waiting, Aiden's half was crammed and lived in. His half of the room was plastered with posters. Except the windows. He needed to let some light in.
There were laminated posters brought from home. Keith Moon. John Bonham. Roger Taylor. Rick Allen. Tommy Lee. Mick Fleetwood and Ringo Starr to appease his mother.
Where there was supposed to be a desk was Aiden's drum kit instead. Hana wasn't the only one who got musical talent from their mother. Hers just happened to be able to be done quieter. Aiden tossed his backpack next to his bed and went digging under the sheets for his drum sticks. He figured he wouldn't get in trouble for playing now. It wasn't during class. It also wasn't midnight.
Aiden's hand closed around his drum sticks after a minute of rifling. He grinned at them as he pulled them out. "Ready, steady?"
So what if he talked to them? They talked back when used properly. He pulled his drum stool out and seated himself. He rolled his shoulders and went through his mental inventory of songs. He shoved the gymnastics moves out of the forefront. That was another means of thumping he got into trouble for doing at midnight.
He could hear the synth and vocals going 'Ohhhh'. Then came the crowd cheering and clapping. The power chords. And then Aiden was up. His sticks hitting the skins. Hitting them like a jackhammer. There was a girl's laugh and then he was completely lost in playing the song. He would stay that way through song after song until somebody got him for dinner.
There were laminated posters brought from home. Keith Moon. John Bonham. Roger Taylor. Rick Allen. Tommy Lee. Mick Fleetwood and Ringo Starr to appease his mother.
Where there was supposed to be a desk was Aiden's drum kit instead. Hana wasn't the only one who got musical talent from their mother. Hers just happened to be able to be done quieter. Aiden tossed his backpack next to his bed and went digging under the sheets for his drum sticks. He figured he wouldn't get in trouble for playing now. It wasn't during class. It also wasn't midnight.
Aiden's hand closed around his drum sticks after a minute of rifling. He grinned at them as he pulled them out. "Ready, steady?"
So what if he talked to them? They talked back when used properly. He pulled his drum stool out and seated himself. He rolled his shoulders and went through his mental inventory of songs. He shoved the gymnastics moves out of the forefront. That was another means of thumping he got into trouble for doing at midnight.
He could hear the synth and vocals going 'Ohhhh'. Then came the crowd cheering and clapping. The power chords. And then Aiden was up. His sticks hitting the skins. Hitting them like a jackhammer. There was a girl's laugh and then he was completely lost in playing the song. He would stay that way through song after song until somebody got him for dinner.
