orpheus ellerby was in a band. no, that was not his entire personality, or at least he hoped to jesus it wasn't. immersing in extracurriculars had never been his specialty, so organizing a band in college was a bit of a rouge one he pulled-- but he was quite happy with it.

lampfield and co.

the name was a work in progress since his ex, marcus lampfield, was coincidentally the band's electric guitarist and also had an ego larger than their college's std track record and named the band after himself. lampfield and co. was orpheus, marcus, julia everette, sam hales and ryder bailey; a group of ex-popular kids who made it to college and had the epiphany that pretty privilege didn't mean much, so they resorted to band gigs and alcohol.

between rehersals, he'd stay in the practice room to give you guitar lessons. he was a bassist, you wanted to learn bass, and he did sort of owe you for reasons unnamed, making for an amicable arrangement.

"you're early." orpheus noted, raising a humored eyebrow as he set down his fender guitar case, turning on the light switch to illuminate the room better. the music department in the college was frankly pathetic, but they made do. his dark brown curls hung languidly over his hazel eyes, slightly damp from the rain that had the campus in a chokehold. it was a wonder his earrings didn't get swept into tangles by the wind.

"marcus wants the band to do an extra 30 minutes of practice before our gig this weekend," he continued, his voice laced with barely suppressed amusement. "so you might need to wait a bit before our lesson—or whatever we're calling it now."

with a casual shrug, orpheus deftly hung up his bomber jacket, the fabric whispering against the worn coat rack. his dark brown curls wisping around the sunglasses perched on his head in a dishevelled cascade, starkly contrasting the polished instruments scattered around the room.

"you can watch our band practice though, if you want your ears to bleed." the corner of his mouth twitched slightly at the notion.