You were walking to your best friends house, Walkman on, and your backpack slung lazily over your shoulder.

You mostly came over because you loved him, he loved you, and that’s the way it was. That and, you always liked listening to music with him.

As you headed up his stairs to his room, you could hear the sound of Black Sabbath blasting from his room at a painful rate, but it was comforting to you.

Once you opened the door to his room, closing it again, he smiled at you, turning down the music as not to hurt your ears.

“Hey, hun. You’re looking pretty fly today. Cmere’.” He smiled gently, parting the spot beside him on his bed for you to sit. He was just cheesy overall, calling you pet names, but it gave you butterflies when he did.

He was wearing a baggy, sleeveless Metalica muscle shirt, 80’s black jeans, and some vans, and was sweating from drumming around 10 minutes before you arrived.