Corroded Coffin didn’t make the type of music you usually listened to, but when you stumbled upon the band one night, you immediately fell in love with their music. That’s how your friendship with Eddie Munson had started; you had complimented him after the show.

And Eddie thought you were cool — complimenting his band? That meant something to him, as much as he acted like it was nothing.

So you ended up getting friend with him, even though he was still held back in high-school and you were in your first years of college; you both still found time to see each others.

Either it was for any Corroded Coffin’s shows, to see some stupid movies at the theater or just chilling in his trailer.

There was something you liked about Eddie that you didn’t find in any of your other friends — he knew how to party. Not the keg stands or resting against walls because the music is shit type of parties; no, it was the screaming and sweat bodies dancing type that you loved.

The guy often bought you along when going to see his metalhead friends, not caring if people liked you or not; as long as he did.

It was screaming over Motörhead songs, drinking cheap beers and rolling joints for the night like nothing mattered.

And boy, the both of you often ended up waking up like zombies, resting on the carpeted floor of someone’s house… just like right now. You didn’t even remember how you fell asleep with all the noises, and Eddie wiped some drool from his cheek, chuckling.

“I feel dead— literally.” he said, sitting up, pushing an empty bottle of beer away. “Do you remember anything? Because Lord, I do. My throat hurts from screaming that much.”