It made Marc sad that this idiot didn’t let the world see the fucking gem he really was. Yet, he was happy Chris held this kind, big-hearted nature inside of him, reserved only for those he considered important enough.
4. Fragile Dreams
September,fouryearsprior
Munich, Germany
“Holy shit, Vik!”Marc shouted as he entered his apartment.
“What?” Viktor left the book he was reading over his lap.
Fuck. The bassist wasn’t sure what he liked more; the intellectual, good boy look he had with the glasses on, or the bad boy with tattoos vibe he oozed without them.
“Remember we had this rehearsal test with Leah today?” Marc asked from the entrance, sweeping his long, jet-black mane to the side to avoid getting entangled with it while he took off his combat boots.
“Yeah. How was it?”
“Incredible,” the bassist said, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge that was literally eight strides away from the couch. “She was nervous as fuck, which was kinda cute.”
“Of course.” Viktor flashed him a mischievous grin.
Ignoring his remark, Marc handed the blond his bottle and sat beside him. “She was trembling so much at the beginning, I thought she was going to pass out.” He chuckled. “Her voice sure needs a dash of confidence to erase the shakiness in the calmer parts, but her technique, projection, and ease to adapt to whatever we’ve thrown at her is insane.”
“Does she sound as good as in those videos Chris showed us from that concert he went to when she was in Hamburg?”
“Better.”
“Now you’re exaggerating.” Viktor laughed before taking a swig of his beer. For some reason, the joy didn’t reach his beautiful emerald eyes, but Marc was too hyped to focus, so he dismissed it.
“Fuck, no. There are subtleties in her timbre and technique you’d only be able to catch listening to her live. I’m telling you; she might have all these years of training with her mom, but she’s a natural. And fits so fucking well with the band.”
They had repeated the first half of their own personal metal cover of “Zombie” twice. Once because Leah’s tongue had tangled up mid-sentence, and she hadn’t managed to continue. The second because Marc had joined her in the chorus without warning and she froze. The third time, though, magic had happened.
It was as if the four of them had been doing this together forever. Every chord, note, and beat of the drums synchronized. No one had dared to leave the path Erik was marking, controlling the tempo and shifts in rhythm, all paddling in the same direction.
“Livin’ On a Prayer”, “For Whom the Bell Tolls”, a rock cover of “Bad Romance”, “Severed”, “In Your Face”, “Invictus”, and “Prayer Of Hatred” followed. It was a weird mix, yeah—Bon Jovi, Metallica, Lady Gaga, Mudvayne, Children of Bodom, Lamb of God, and Morbid Angel—but it granted enough diversity to test Leah’s skills.
They all wanted her in the band. She was laid-back, fun, and a friend. However, this wasn’t a children’s game anymore. It was business. They had to make sure they were choosing well. Especially since Chris was known for making hasty, sometimes wrongful, decisions. But this wasn’t one of those. You needed warm, soft vocals that pulled all your strings and made you feel all kinds of things? Powerful and gritty? False cords growling, fry screams, or gutturals? Leah had itall.
“You have a new vocalist, then?”
“She said she loved it today, that she hadn’t experienced music like that in a long while, but that she needs time to adapt.”
“Can you blame her?”
“Not at all.” Marc took a sip of beer. “But I’ve never seen her so relaxed before. So bright and beautiful. I can’t wait to see how it’ll be when she lets go of all the fear.”
“Aww…” Viktor teased. “Are you in love?”
“Shut up!” The bassist facepalmed him and pushed his head back, making him laugh even louder.
Such an idiot.
Still chuckling, the blond offered the most honest and sweetest smile—the type that would make Marc burn the whole fucking world for him.
“She sounds like a great new addition to the band, especially compared toThe Diva.” Viktor was the most tolerant person ever, rarely making those kinds of judgmental comments. But he was also very protective of his loved ones, and Hannah yelling at Marc one night after a gig because he’d messed up in a song had forced him to put her name on a blacklist. “I think it’ll do Leah good, too. So it’s a win-win.” A sweet smile with a dash of nostalgia on it tugged the side of his lips.
“Why you gotta be so handsome?” the bassist said, leaning towards him as he took his glasses off and left them on the coffee table.
