This is actually based on a headcanon I saw on tumblr. Just thought it would be fun to write. The headcannon: "Firkle and Vampir have the same favorite band; Deftones. Vampir doesn't see the problem but Firkle hates it." Now, I completely disagree that Firkle's favorite band would be a nu-metal band but I can see him at least liking it. This can also be seen as Vampir/Firkle pre-slash or just a frienemy thing, which ever the reader wants. Seventh grader!Firkle and Junior!Vampir.

Warning!: Strong language ahead.

"To the edge

'Til we all get off

I will take you away with me"

~Diamond Eyes, Deftones

Firkle growled as he pushed his way to the front. This wasn't some local talent at an alt bar, no, this was a band he actually liked. Really liked. Though his affections for this particular band were kept in secret to avoid elitist discrimination that was common within his subculture. He growled again, there was not a chance in hell that he wouldn't be able to see the performers due to the idiotic conformists around him.

His short stature made the task at hand incredibly difficult. He completely fell back on his ass as he bumbed into the back of some tall motherfucker. Firkle grunted as said motherfucker turned aruond. Then he just sat there on the hard floor, dumbfounded.

Mike fucking Markowski. In all his poser glory.

The vamp had the nerve to smile down at him and offer his hand in assistance. "Hey! Um, Georgie was it?"

"My name is fucking Firkle goddamn it!" The little goth had no clue as to where everyone got that name from. "Out of my way", he said, ignoring the outstretched hand as he stood up.

"Where are the rest of your friends?" Vampir asked as he trailed closely behind Firkle. Henrietta was on a graveyard date with some guy while Pete and Michael were at a different concert, Fear Cult, which Firkle would have attended as well, but Deftones' tickets are much harder to come by. However, the goth certainly wasn't going to divulge such details to a conformist.

"Clearly not here."

"So you're here by yourself, per se?"

"No shit."

"Well good thing I found you. Can't let a little guy like you wander around all alone. It's dangerous."

Firkle sputtered. "I'm thirteen!" Okay, even he admitted that sounded rather stupid aloud.

"Exactly! And you're alone in this huge crowd of strangers. You already fell down once." Firkle's black lips twisted into an ugly grimace as he rolled his eyes toward the heavens. "Thus, I shall protect you! 'Tis my duty as a princely lord of the night, per se!" This exclaimation of coarse garnered quite a few stares.

"Fine! Whatever. Just shut the hell up 'fore I cut your tongue out and make you eat it." The switchblade he always carried on his person was used as emphasis. Firke heared a sigh. "Why are you even here?"

"Isn't obvious? The main act!"

At last, Firke stopped his forceful journey to the front of the stage and faltered. "What?! H-how?" Mike raised a slim eyebrow in question. "How can a nazi conformist poser like yourself understand the deep, poetic beauty that is Deftones?"

The vamp kid chuckled. "I don't think I understand them, per se. The sound they make, instruments and vocals, I like that. They just make good music, ya know?" He smiled, porcelain fangs very much visible.

The younger boy's eye twitched. "At least they're a step up from plastic," Firkle thought. "Let's just keep going."

"But hey! Maybe you can teach me all the "poetic beauty" of Deftones."

"I'm going to have to, lettting a moron like you remain ignorant to good music would be an unforgivable act. The dire consequences would include me getting raped by demons in the fiery pits of hell."

And finally their destination was in front of them. Right as the beloved band was setting up. Perfection. Well, near perfection, as Firkle was barely half a head taller than the stage. Damn everything. Oh well, getting squished between rabid fans and a stage was a small price to pay to witness musical gods preform.

Large, strong hands made themselves present on the sides of the goth boy's upper torso. "The hell?!" The hands, which belonged to none other than Vampir, lifted Firkle off the ground and up on to his shoulders. Firkle looked down at him, eyes filled with a vague sort of surprise. The vampire offered only a smile in response. With that he averted his attention back to the stage. Mascara consumed the crowd's eardrums.

Chino Moreno waved his arm over the audience and by some chance of fate, when Firke reached out the singer grabbed his hand. For nearly a full minute Moreno held his hand, eyes locked on his own as he sang. When he let go Firkle had a hard time regaining his breath.

For the remainder of the performance the goth sat comfortably upon Vampir's shoulders, leaned forward against the back of the older boy's head.

Once the band started packing up Mike helped his frienemy down. To which he recieved a small "thank you" uttered through clenched teeth.

"Thank god none of your asshole friends came with you." He muttered as the duo made their way to the merch table. "Why didn't they?"

Mike shrugged. "None of them are into this band, per se."

He scoffed as he handed over fiffteen dollars for a poster and a CD - Koi no Yokan, to be exact. "What, do your underlings sit around listening to the Twilight soundtract?"

The vamp blinked. "How'd you know?"

Firkle pinched the bridge of his noes in exasperation. "You're the king of fags, you fag."

"I would appreciate it if you refrained from calling me as such. I'm a lord of darkness, after all."

"...You do realise everything you just said is the very definition of "fag", right?"

"Whatever." He sighed as he handed the merch guy twenty-five dollars for a shirt and rubber wrist-band. Of coarse he was the type to spend money on rubber wrist-bands. "Hmmm, ya know, I only have the album you just got and White Pony. Which other one should I get?"

Firkle just shook his head. "Of coarse you'd only have the recent stuff."

"Fiffteen years ago isn't exactly recent, per se."

Another shake of the head. "Just get either Adrenaline or Around the Fur. Those are the best." Vampir got both. "How did a loser like you even get a chance to hear Deftones anyway?"

"The first time I heard them was in my favorite movie, Queen of the Damned. They used to come on the radio pretty often too, back in the day."

"Back when radio was somewhat decent." The younger boy mentally noted as they stepped out of the line. "Oh Jesus. Well, Deftones and Anne Rice together is pretty badass. Before she turned into an extreme pro-christian Nazi and ruined her later work."

He laughed. "Come on, we better get out of here. It's late anyway and there's school tomorrow." Firkle snorted, he was just going to ditch like he usually did. "How'd you get here?"

"Walked."

"It's not safe to be walking home this late. I'll give you a ride."

"I'd rather listen to Mandy Moore while ripping off my penis with my bare hands."

"Worse could happen if you're out by yourself at this time of night."

"It's barely fucking eleven."

"Precisely! I should have been in bed an hour ago. You too, everyone needs at least eight hours of sleep a night."

"I'll go with you if you stop talking."

"Done!"

"That counts as talking."

"Time will see us realign

Diamonds rain across the sky

I will lead us to the same realm"

~Diamond Eyes, Deftones