battle of the bad (it’s real bad) * forest + alaric
Forest can’t tell you why he’s agreed to this.
He’s sitting on the balcony at the Showbox, fake I.D. in his pocket, dry cranberry ginger ale in hand, sitting next to Alaric while some mediocre grunge revival band just screams in his face. Forest doesn’t like concerts. He doesn’t like loud places. He likes quiet, peaceful events. A movie night would be better. Or a picnic. Anything. But a Battle of the Bands? Really?
But he lives to please, and he figured Alaric would be more into this, and that if he saw Forest in a non-zoo environment he’d treat him less like a child and more like an equal, so here they are. ‘Non-zoo environment’... Forest has no idea what he was thinking, because this is a zoo. There are people shouting, his cardigan is sticky with spilled beer, and two people have grabbed his butt — which prompted him to (reluctantly) hang off of Alaric. Forest hated parties. He thought his height would give him an edge and get people to leave him alone, but his baby-face and his approachable (doormat) aura worked against him, and usually left him hanging off of whatever friend he was out with for protection.
Needing Alaric to protect him was the opposite of the point of this outing. And, honestly, he wasn’t even sure if Alaric was enjoying himself. He was surprised that Alaric was so hyped about the idea of a Battle of the Bands, since he’s a soft-spoken zookeeper, but he seemed into it, but now — through the darkness Alaric’s expression is unreadable, and Forest’s is just trying so hard to be pleasant. His voice is hoarse from shouting, and they’ve lapsed into a silence drowned by the post-anarcho-screamo screeching.
When the band starts yelling about the Antichrist, Forest has had enough. “Hey, do you want to get out of here? It’s a little... loud.”