Here’s that Eli fic i mentioned the other day! it’s not all that but i hope you enjoy!!
warnings: cursing, girly pop is an asshole to eli lmao, not beta read and probably kinda shit
It all began on a hot July afternoon. Her friend Hannah had dragged her to a gig with her boyfriend Pete, because 'she didn't want to be alone while Pete talked to his friends'-she knew they'd end up making out as per usual, but still went regardless.
When they got to the bar it wasn't packed. It wasn't empty per se, just crowded enough to look full but not filled to the point of sacrificing personal space every time you moved. She waited for the band while listening to the playlist to hype people up, a Blondie song if she wasn't mistaken. She tapped on her glass while she payed only partial attention to Hannah who was rambling about some date idea Pete had come up with the last time they went out, more focused on the stage that was still lit up with normal white lights. They chatted until the lights turned off and an intro song began playing and the band came on. She clapped and cheered a polite amount while the band set up when she set her eyes on him.
The boy at the mic stand with shaggy curly hair that was getting slightly long, with eyes that reminded her of a fawn. He pushed his hair off his forehead and grinned as he began the show, introducing the band-Inhaler, she learned. They began their set with a hyped up song that got people to jump around and scream out the lyrics with him as he sang them. It was going to be a good show.
After Inhaler's gig she thought they were decent. scratch that-they were good, they were really good. she might have been biased, considering she spent the entire gig practically drooling over their singer, but that wasn't relevant. She wanted to meet him, she needed to meet him.
thankfully, Pete, her friends' Hannah's boyfriend was apparently friends with the bassist of the band, Robert. So she found herself backstage, chatting with all the guys except the guy she wanted (Elijah, she learned), so she needed to find a back up plan. After he had been ignoring and brushing her off for the better part of an hour she finally approached him.
"So...is it the guitar pick or are you just a shit guitarist?" she asked as she crossed her arms across her chest, making him finally look up from his phone with a raised brow and a mildly pissed off expression. "Excuse me?" he asked with a huff and a thick irish accent that matched her own, making her nearly flush.
Shit.
Why couldn't she have gone the normal route, like 'oh you guys were really good can i get your number by chance?' instead of full-on insulting the guy.
"Are you a shit guitarist or is it just the guitar pick?" she asked again, cringing internally at how mean she was.
He stood up, standing a couple centimetres taller than her that felt especially intimidating with how pissed off he seemed. "Well first of all," he clicked his tongue, "i'm a front man, i sing." he began.
"So is the guitar not plugged in?" She joked, earning another glare before he continued, "yes, it is plugged in, i do actually play." he scoffed. "And i'm not shite either, i'd know by now if i was." he rolled his eyes and stepped closer. "What's the point of this anyways? you acting insufferable i mean," he huffed and stepped back, pushing his hair out of his eyes again. "if you hated the show you should have left the moment you decided it."
She saw his disinterested expression and she felt slightly bad. Still, she had dug too deep of a hole for herself, so she had to finish what she started.
"No, no, i just wanted to give you some...friendly advice if you will." she smiled. "I feel like you're playing with the wrong pick, you know?" she sighed as if it was she most obvious thing ever.
"the wrong pick?" he asked, corking a brow, his expression turning amused. This girl could not have been serious.
"yeah, you know i just think that you should use like, .35mm you know? i think your playing would benefit from it," she nodded.
"A-A .35" he looked at her as if she was insane. "that's way too fucking thin." he rolled his eyes. He was beginning to regret ever entertaining the conversation they were having, let alone her. But still, something was pulling him in.
"No, no, trust me!" she said through a chuckle "you'd love it!" she laughed. "i'll even bring you one to the next gig for you to use," she added, hoping he'd get the message that she wasn't there only to fuck with him.
"I can assure you i wouldn't." he quipped back, a small grin forming on his face at her mention of coming to the next gig. "Oh? you'll be there?" he asked with a small smirk.
"of course, i need to see if you listen to my advice don't i?" she laughed and patted his shoulder before turning around and walking off, panicking the entire time.
________
Once again, she was at his gig a few weeks later with Hannah, this time without Pete. They'd gotten drinks and chatted, ended up meeting Rob's girlfriend Martha, who was frankly gorgeous beyond belief, and stayed with her throughout the show. Eventually the lights dimmed and once again, Inhaler took the stage. They began the set the same way as last time, when she noticed it.
she'd genuinely thought he'd forget about it. Either that, or ignore her so-called 'advice.'
So she was surprised to see him on stage with a paper thin guitar pick, trying his hardest to not fuck up while glaring at her every so often, making her laugh. He did pretty good actually. He lasted for about three songs before switching back to his usual pick and practically sigh in relief when he could play normally again, but not without sending another glare in her direction. The set was regardless, still fucking good. The vibes were great, the band was great and so was the crowd. They delivered song after song with the same amount of energy and passion, getting increasingly more sweaty and exhausted throughout it under the hot stage lights.
After the show was done the guys came to the bar all exhausted but buzzing with excitement and post-concert energy. The moment he spotted her he marched up to her and pushed the guitar pick into her chest, making it fall in her palm after she'd set out to catch it. "Take your stupid pick," he huffed and crossed his arms. "That was the worst fucking experience of my fucking life," he dramatised and once again pushed his curly hair out of his face.
She let out a laugh, pocketing the guitar pick and patting his arm. "you know, maybe it's not the pick," she began, “maybe you are a shit guitarist,” she teased.
"Zip it.” he gritted out and ordered himself a beer, sliding another one to her. She hummed contently as he handed her the bottle, thinking that maybe, maybe, something would come out of it.
