A/N i OWN NOTHING BUT THE PLOT AND OCS
We're not a real band. We don't do gigs, or play shows, or pretend like we're gonna make it big. Real bands don't have a gossip network dedicated to stalking teenagers more complex then Russia's history. Real bands aren't suppose to rig P.A systems so they broadcast their music to the entire school when Rachel Barry whines about how talented she thinks she is in the middle of her trig class. Real bands don't spend hours drooling over New Directions gossip trying to decode who will sing what and how.
Real bands aren't expected to play a song at the drop of a hat.
But, we are. We're not the stars. We're not sidelined. We're not anyone. We're just the band.
And now, we're gonna fuck shit up.
I suppose I should give you this whole exposition shtick, where I explain my motivations and character and spell all this out like I'm some TV pilot. But, I won't because frankly it doesn't matter. You thought about us, in passing probably. How do they do that? Play the song at the exact moment someone in Glee asks for it?
Well I'll tell you how. Fucking research. I'm not talking about basic level facebook stalking here. We have and owe favors to a million different students; we've broken into hospitals and funeral parlors and watched the Glee students live their lives. We've done so much illegal shit for that godforsaken club it's a miracle we're not all in jail. We've become electrical engineers and public relations experts and composers all before graduating high school. We're the ones who warn the teachers when a Glee kid is going to randomly burst into song in the middle of class.
Do you think the Glee kids care or have the forethought to do any of that? Do they clear the hallways when they want to go prancing down the hallways? No they don't, because they're the New Directions and their bullied and gay and weird and that makes them losers. And being losers mean they're not like us "sheeple" who don't think for ourselves. They're different, they know better, they're doing to get out of this town and all that bullshit they spew in the choir room.
Because of them, my blood alcohol level hasn't been 0.00 since sophomore year. Two years of this and there wasn't a light of the end of the tunnel for us. NYADA, Julliard, we wanted that too, but it became very clear that we didn't deserve it as much as the New Directions. They were the talent, the stars; we were just the background noise. We had no friends outside of one another, no social lives, our grades were mediocre at best, and we had all long ago given up on having more than three hours of sleep a day.
We weren't in Glee, but it had taken everything from us. Our hopes, out passion, our love, gone. But, now? Now we can take it all back and destroy the Glee club once and for all.
And it's all thanks to Rachel Fucking Barry.
"Now, I would like to sing a song I think you'll all appreciate." Rachel said, her words spilling dread into my veins. This was it. Her "secret project", a song guaranteed her s solo at Regionals no matter what Mr. Schue thought. She'd talked about it for weeks, but kept her lips tight as fuck, no small feat since Rachel Barry absolutely loved to talk about herself.
We'd gone through all the channels. Her fathers, her nail artist, all 23 of her Barbra Streisand fan accounts, looking for any scrap of information on what she wanted to sing. We'd even gotten desperate and, after a lengthy argument, sacrificed me to the beast and demanded I just go up and ask her.
As stupid as it sounds, no one in Glee has ever told any of us what they were singing. They just point at us and expect us to play the correct version of the song with the correct notes in the correct key. And you'd think it would be easy right, to just walk up and ask these kinds of things, too have a meeting with them.
Nope.
"Rachel." I called. "Rachel Barry."
The Glee Starlet turned around, her face scrunched in confusion as I weaved through the crowds to get to her. The bell was going to ring any minute and I needed the info now.
"What are you singing for Glee?" I asked, straight to the point. Almost instantly, the girl brightened and pulled out a pen from her sweater pocket.
"I'm sorry, but I cannot discuss such private information with a fan," she said, snatching my notebook out of my grasp.
"No I'm not-" she cut me off.
"You can come to Glee like everyone else and witness firsthand what I've got in store for the New Directions." She shoved my notebook back into my hands and turned to leave.
"You don't understand, I'm with the band and we-" but Rachel Barry was already walking away. I glanced down at the notebook. She had written:
Never Stop Dreaming Big- Love, Rachel Barry.
Right over my math homework.
It wasn't the first time a New Directioner had blown us off. It's not that they're stupid, it's just that they think the sun itself shines out of their self-entitled asses and we should all worship them while they play the victim.
But, I'm not bitter or anything. Promise.
So, after failing to turn in my math assignment, we came to the only conclusion we could and unanimously decided that Rachel Barry can suck it.
"Hit it," Rachel said, not even looking at us. Bile churned in my stomach as I waited. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
"Hit it," Rachel said again. Again, nothing. Behind me, the other's fidgeted. They could sense the confrontation and I'd be damned if I let Rachel Barry off all people intimidate them.
"I said hit it!" she said, finally turning to face us. I looked at her and, no surprise, saw absolutely no recognition in her eyes. Behind her, Mr. Schue's brow was furrowed, confused as to why music wasn't playing. The other members of New Directions whispered among themselves.
"We can't," I said. Rachel Barry's face reddened. Her eyes darted from us to Finn to Mr. Schue and back to us.
"What? Why not?" she asked, struggled to keep calm despite the annoyance I could hear grind out of her voice.
"Because, Rachel," I said, my tone bored, "We don't know what to play."
At that, Rachel Barry recoiled. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, her face impossibly red with embarrassment and shame. "Wh-what?"
I could see it on their faces, Brittany's, Arties, Tina's, Puck's, Finn's was especially confused. I'd laugh if I didn't find it was pathetic as I did. The air was suddenly thick with tension as every eye turned to me. I could hear my heart thunder in my chest, but I'd be damned if I crumbled to the Glee club. Not again. Never again.
"You didn't tell us your song," I said. "How are we supposed to play something we don't know?"
"I've worked on Because You Loved Me for weeks!" Rachel shrieked.
"And how is that our problem?" I asked, my fingers drumming on the body of my guitar.
"Okay, okay." Schue intervened, placing a calming hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Why don't we all talk about this like adults?"
The teacher turned to look at us and I could see the gears in his mind turning, trying to find a way to difuse the situation I had created.
"Now why didn't you learn the song?" Schue asked. I rolled my eyes.
"Because Rachel didn't tell us what she was going to sing."
"And why is that Rachel?" Schue asked. Again, Rachel Barry recoiled. Her hands clasped over her heart and I could practically hear the forced whimper coming out with every word.
"Why would you ask me that, Mr. Schue?" she demanded. "I am not to blame here."
"Really, because from where I'm standing it's defiantly your fault," I supplied. Behind me, the band came out of their shells, a little less afraid of the tiny girl before them.
"I have never told you people anything before," Rachel bellowed. "Why is now any different?"
"Because, you didn't tell anyone." Penelope said her voice small and cracking, but there. Oh, god, she was there. It was like a bolt of lightning through my core.
"Yeah, what did you think? We know every song ever made and know exactly how you want it sung and we just magically know what you want the moment you ask for it?" Ethan said, sliding up next to me. His presence sing waves of comfort though my core.
"Is that not what you do?" Santana asked.
"Sorry, Santana, we have to practice like everyone else." Fayra said, her voice light and non-judgmental.
"Not that any of you care," Adrian spat. "Don't pretend you people have ever cared about anything before."
Quinn of all people opened her mouth to speak, but Yvonne beat her too it, slamming her sticks against the cymbals of her drum kit.
"Don't you even think about it Fabray," she shouted. "I am tired of this fucking club and the fucking hypocrisy and the fucking Journey!"
"I will not have that kind of language in my choir room!" Schue reprimand. Yvonne rolled her eyes.
"Oh suck it up, Schusterman" she growled. "You're just like them. So high off your own smug you probably don't even know our fucking names!"
And that was it, the bomb shell that silenced the Glee club. Schue's mouth hung like a fish and I watched, fucking watched, as the realization come over him. He didn't know who we were. None of them did.
"Did you really think it was that easy?" I ask the club. "Did you really think all the music, all the random song outbursts in class, everything just happened to you. Did none of you ever ask where is this coming from or who's doing this?"
I didn't need their answer. I already knew. Their confusion was enough.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," I said. Then I turned and walked away, the others following silently behind, because, really, there was nothing else to say.
"Who was that?" Brittany asked as I left. "Did they want to join Glee?"