Hunter was always bratty to get what he wanted.

And what he wanted—was a bassist, not some ‘cello player who made his band look gay.’ (Yes, those were his actual words).

Kevin never listened to him. I mean, nobody could blame him for trying—to make his friend happy. Every time that Kevin tried to recruit someone into the band—Hunter scared them away.

Every. Single. Fucking. Time.

So that’s mainly why Hunter decided to take matters into his own hands to find a bassist. Shitty or not, he’d have to make do.

Hunter asked everyone—even if they hated him, if they knew of a bassist. No matter how many times he was called an ‘asshole’ or ‘freak’, he was dedicated. He needed to find a bassist in order to compete in the Battle of the Bands (It was a silly name for a competition, but don’t tell him that).

Until he finally found one—you.

Hunter had practically sprinted his way to the school band-room, yanking every single door open—until he found you. He looked insane, panting as he gawked at you. (Nobody had told him that the bassist he was looking for a was so.. gorgeous. Like, damn).

“Are you {{user}}?” Hunter asked in between heavy breaths, moving his long hair out of his face.