Alright, you had to admit that was pretty much the best night of your life. You're still grinning stupidly as you're walking to work, so you pull your scarf over face. Besides, it was getting cold.
John had put up a bit of a fit earlier this morning, wanting to cuddle a bit more. Obviously, you both knew who wore the pants in this relationship. You promised him you'd be home in time for dinner, so you put one of those microwavable mac and cheese bowls on the table for him for lunch.
"Hey, Strider, it's time for our lunch break," your coworker calls out from his cubicle. You thank him and sigh, taking off your headset. Helping ungrateful shitheads all day really takes a toll on you sometimes. Not that all their yelling gets to you. Nah, you've learned to ignore that shit. You just wished that you'd have done more with your life sometimes is all. You've got half an hour, so you head on over to the lunch room to heat up another mac and cheese bowl you stole from John's kitchen. While you're waiting for it to heat, you steal a quick glance around. No one's there, so you pick up the phone and dial John's number. It rings several times before he picks up.
"Hello?" You smile a bit at the familiar voice.
"Sup, it's me," you say, as if he could be expecting anyone else. "Obviously you can hear everything loud and clear now?"
"Dave! Yeah! Are you at work? No, wait, duh, of course you are," he says, and you can hear a dull thump. He probably just smacked his own forehead. "Are you on lunch break? I saw the mac and cheese, by the way. Very romantic."
You manage a chuckle. "Yeah, just a few more hours and I'll be heading home. Just called to make sure you were still ok. Should probably get off before I get caught using the company's phone for a personal call."
"Haha alright, see ya later then, Mr. Rulebreaker!" And with that, you both hung up.
After eating your own mac and cheese, you lounge around a bit before heading back to work. Another few hours of taking calls pass by and you're totally beat and ready to go home. You wave to your fellow cubicle buddies and head out.
Just for kicks, you change up your route a bit. You pass by the club that John took you to a few weeks ago and just… stand there. They're not open yet, since it's way too early for clubbing, so you look sort of suspicious, but what do you care. No one's around to see you. At least, that's what you thought.
"Hey! Club's closed. Need something, bro?" a voice calls out from behind you, rudeness clear in his tone. As you turn, ready with a snarky remark, both of your expressions turn to surprise. "Dave? Dave Strider, that you, kid?"
"Hank?" you manage to say before the large African American pulls you into a bear hug.
"Shit, man, I haven't seen you since forever!" the other man lets go and pats you on the shoulders. "Where have you been all this time? Underground clubs or some shit? DJ Stri!"
"God, no, please not that name. That's fucking embarrassing," you're red in the face, but you're smiling. Ah, his younger days. "I'm just working now. But, yo Hank, don't tell me you own this club." He gives you a smile and a wink. "No way! When did you move here? What happened to the other club?"
"Sold that one when I moved here with the missus. Bought this one a few years back. You still DJing, dude?" You shake your head in reply. "Aww, what a damn shame! You were sick, I gotta tell you that."
"If I was so sick, why didn't you ever hire me, man?" you ask, smiling a bit sadly. Your tone wasn't at all accusatory.
"Listen, kid, the only reason I didn't hire you when you were a kid was cuz you were too full of yourself. You were great, you knew it, and you flaunted it. You had that 'I'm-so-cool-everyone-else-get-out' kind of vibe around you. I couldn't have that in my club." He says, and you appreciate his honesty. "But you know, kid, I can tell now that you've grown a LOT more mature."
You sort of just stare at him. No one had told him that he was mature. You admit, when you were a kid, you were pretty cocky with your whole coolkid/ironic spiel. However, you hadn't really noticed that you're not like that anymore. Well, you're still cool, but you hadn't noticed that you no longer flaunt it. You guess you have really matured after all. When you don't answer, Hank tries to break the silence.
"I see you're still doing the whole shades thing." He motions towards your sunglasses.
"Yeah, well, that's for different reasons now," you shrug, not really wanting to elaborate. Hank nods, not really wanting to pry.
"You still DJ, Strider?" he asks. You raise an eyebrow.
"Not really," you say, looking away slightly. "I've forgotten."
"Naw, man. You haven't forgotten. I knew you. You love the tables. And when you love something, you never forget it," he smiles at you, eyes twinkling. "A good friend of mine told me that."
Man, John's like a fucking ghost or some shit. He's everywhere! Infecting the minds of everyone. Slowly, but surely. You sigh.
"Yeah, but I don't have time any more. I'm working several jobs to pay the bills, you get me?" You put your hands in your pockets, shrugging. Hank studies you from head to toe and puts a hand on his chin. "What."
"Nothing," he says, still looking at you funny. "You know, if you'd like, I could get you a slot here. A favor for an old friend." You raise both your eyebrows this time, mouth a little open.
"Woah, wait, but I haven't practiced in a while.." he waves you off.
"Don't worry man, you still got it, trust me," he says. "When you were younger, you killed it with those fingers. The music you made? Brilliant, my friend. You don't need practice. Trust me. Come by later tonight. I was gonna DJ myself, since there's a slot open. But I'll let you take it. I've even got an older style turntable I could set up for you. I'll even pay you for the night's work."
At the mention of pay, your ears perk a little. Well, it couldn't hurt, right? What's the worst that could happen? A no-face DJ getting boo'd off the stage. It's not like he had a reputation to lose. Besides, he'd still get paid. Hank wouldn't go back on his word.
"Alright, I'll do it," you say, inclining your head a little. Hank is ecstatic, clapping you on the back and going off about how great it would be for the club while you're telling him not to get his hopes up. You two work out a time and say your goodbyes. You're about to leave when you suddenly remember something.
"Oh, yeah, hey, do you mind if I bring my friend John over too?" You turn to ask before you forget.
"Woah, wait. You wouldn't happen to mean John Egbert, would you?" Hank asks. You smirk.
"Would you rather I call him ET?" With that, Hank is between choking laughter and high-pitched spluttering. He's waving his hands around like a madman.
"Naw, man, NO. Don't TELL me you know ET! He's a legend around these parts! Without him, I wouldn't have gotten this club so big! He comes to DJ for free sometimes, isn't he just great?" Hank pulls you into another bear hug. You say yeah, sure, he's great, now let me go home to change and he lets you go.
On your way home, you're way more ecstatic then you let on. You're grinning stupidly again, so you pull the scarf around your face once more. You finally get home and John's sitting on the couch watching some sort of crime drama. His head pops up from behind the couch and his face lights up like fucking Christmas or some shit.
"Welcome home!" He gets up and strides over to you to give you a quick peck on the cheek. "Wow, that feels weird to do, haha!" The two of you head on over to the kitchen.
"You hungry?" you ask.
"Super hungry," he responds.
"Well, too bad, 'cause I'm taking you out tonight," you say, kissing him on the lips. He's surprised, just as you'd hoped.
"Woah, where to?" he asks. "Should I dress up?"
"More like you should dress down," you reply. "It's a surprise."
"Aw, man, don't tell me this is payback for all those surprises I took you on to last time?" John smiles his goofy smile and you can't help but to smile back.
"This is totally payback and I need time to prep so go get ready, ok?" He reluctantly agrees and slinks off. You rush over to his music studio and rifle through his CD collection. Please let there be some decent clubbing music in here. You pull several off the shelves and silently promise to help him put them back later. After spending a good deal of time choosing some familiar tunes, you return to your room to change into jeans and a t-shirt with a relatively cool design on it. Not that it matters, because you throw on a red jacket and check yourself in the mirror. Ok, you're still pretty cool-looking for a 25-year-old, not that that was too old.
By the time you get out, John's all ready in his own blue hoodie and grey jeans. It was just like old times, when they used to color coordinate with Rose and Jade. You've got the CDs in your pocket and you put an arm around him.
As the two of you are walking to the club, he's telling you about his day, how he spent most of it catching up on dramas and calling his manager. You tell him about a few of the callers you've gotten lately, and before you know it, you've reached the club. He gives you a curious look, but follows you in when the guard unlinks the chains for you, much to the protest of many in line.
The club is already jam-packed and you have to hold John's hand to snake through the crowd. Once you reach the turntables, Hank is there to greet you both.
"Woah, Dave, you know Hank?" John's confused face got even more confused, if that were possible. Hank laughs heartily.
"You didn't tell him?" he asks. You shake your head in confirmation. "Well, then, ET, you're going to be in for a great surprise! Go kill 'em, Strider." He shakes your hand as he leads you up the steps. You turn and wave to John, reassuring him that everything is going to plan, and that he should just sit there and relax. One of you guys should at least relax. You were pretty much shaking like a leaf. You pull up your hood and look down at the turntable, getting yourself situated. Good 'ol Hank pulled through. He had installed a turntable that was almost like the one you used to have as a kid. You ran your fingers over the buttons and knobs and you felt right at home. Everything was so familiar to you.
"ATTENTION!" Hank's voice booms through a microphone. "We've got a special guest in the house today. This is his debut, so everyone, treat him kindly." He turns to you and you wave at the crowd, trying to keep a straight face. "Everyone, give it up, for DJ STRI!" He held out the last syllable in announcer-like fashion and you almost die right then and there. You totally forgot to tell him to think of a new DJ name for you, but it was too late. Besides, this may only be a one-time gig. You swallow your pride and ignore it.
You've got the CDs all set and ready. Your fingers are over the buttons. You're ready to go, when suddenly, the lights dim out and you can see absolutely nothing at all. You're about to yell out for someone to turn the lights back on, but you can still feel the heat of a spotlight on you, and there's no change in the crowd's murmuring. That's when you realize that that was the moment your sight has failed you. Great, just great. Of all the times to go blind, it has to be NOW? You can feel yourself trembling, and the crowd getting restless. And John is there. John, the most important person. You can't possibly let him down.
So you tell yourself. You've got this. This is just like old times. DJ Stri. The coolkid.
You feel around and you realize once again that John and Hank were right. You never forget. You hit the play button and it starts. The music streams through the speakers, and you're working your magic. You can hear the crowd swelling up, and the club vibrates as they start moving to the beat. The bass pounds and you can still hear everything. You can hear everything. You can feel everything.
You realize that it was just like closing your eyes and immersing yourself in the music. And you really were killing it. Music is your weapon, and you are killing the club.
Hours fly by with you at the tables. It feels as if it were only minutes, but then again, you always seemed to lose time whenever you were immersed in your music. Your last song ends and you stand there a bit awkwardly, since you don't want to trip on the stairs and kill yourself. You don't move until you feel someone run into you and put their arms around you.
"Dave, that was amazing!" It was John's voice, and you're so relieved, you put your arms around him too. "This really was a great surprise! I'm so, so proud of you, oh my gosh!" He pulls you closer and puts his head on your shoulders.
"Yeah, well, I have one more surprise for you, John," you say, voice wavering just a bit. you feel him pull away from you and you're not sure where to face. "I can't see."