March 1989

Danny had honestly thought it would be alright. Having Bobbi in the band, he meant. Even though Swampy wasn't sure, Danny had been sure that when people saw the blonde play they'd see exactly why he was in their band in the first place.

Sure, it hadn't been great when not one, not two, but FIVE different people came up to him and asked whether he REALISED that Bobbi was gay and was he completely insane? To which he gave the same answer every time. "I don't care, he's a great player."

Of course, that led to rumours that he himself was gay and that him and Bobbi were in a relationship. Danny rolled his eyes and tuned the voices out. He was on his own now, in the music room waiting for Sherman and Bobbi to turn up.

Sherman slouched into the room looking completely miserable. Danny stopped strumming. "What's wrong with you?" He asked.

Sherman rubbed his eyes. "Tired." He muttered. "Didn't sleep well."

"Ah." Danny smiled. "Partying again? I've told you to stay away from Clint Jones. His 'celebrations' go on forever."

"Wasn't at Clint Jones's. Just can't sleep. You're lucky to have me at all." Swampy dragged himself to his drum set and 'warmed-up' via half-heartedly tapping at the hi-hat and the crash cymbols. Then he stopped.

Danny watched him incredulously. "Is that it!? C'mon Swampy! We're not going to get anywhere if you don't make an effort!"

"Get stuffed, Danny!" Swampy snapped, temper suddenly rising. "I told you you were lucky to have me at all - I'll just go if you carry on like this!"

Danny held his hands up in surrender. "Dude, chill out. I'm sorry alright?" Not that he'd had a clue what he'd actually done, but his mother always said an apology was a good start. "Look, if you're not feeling great - like seriously not great - then GO home. No point you being here if you're not feeling well."

Swampy banged his drums sticks on top of the ride and crash cymbal causing an almighty din. "So now you want to get rid of me!?" He yelled, while Danny's ears rang. "You know what, never mind. Bring it on. Which song are we doing? And where the hells Bobbi?"

"We'll do 'Bring On The World' and fuck knows where Bobbi is-"

"Someone say my name?" They both turned to see the bassist standing in the doorway. "Hello Lover." He added, winking at Danny.

Danny glared, then sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "You've heard the rumours then?" He asked, rhetorically.

Bobbi gave a wide smile and casually sauntered into the room. "It' a bit hard not to. Everyone talks. And everyone comes up and tells you what they've heard." Danny fancied he heard a trace of bitterness in that last sentence.

Apparently Sherman heard it to because he quickly looked over at Bobbi and asked. "You okay?" Before looking back down at his drum-set.

Bobbi waved a hand dismissively. "You get used to it." He said, with an air of forced cheerfulness. "Anyway, enough about my fabulous self. What are we playing?"

"Starting with Bring On The World." Danny said, for what felt like the tenth time.

Bobbi nodded and brought out a folder.

"You've got a folder?" Danny asked, in surprise.

"And exactly how else am I meant to learn it?"

"By memorising it? Like proper musicians."

Bobbi rolled his eyes. "We've got loads of time to properly memorise it."

"We've not got a lot of time, you know-"

"Really?" The bassist raised an eyebrow. "And when's our first gig?"


"And, while we're at this, have we got a name yet?"


"I thought so." The bassist finished setting up his music. "When we've got a name, and got out first gig, THEN I'll concentrate on learning the music pitch-perfectly. Until then, paper is my friend."

Danny was smart enough to know when he was losing a fight. "Okay, okay. Let's just start. Swampy, you ready?"

Swampy massaged his temple and nodded. "As I'll ever be." He said, glumly. "On three right?"

Danny nodded impatiently and Swampy lifted his arms, then started the song.

Three false starts, 2 instances of Danny messing up the lyrics and one instant of Swampy missing his cue later, Bobbi stopped playing and held his hand up. "Hold it, hold it."

The other two stopped and looked at him.

"This isn't working." The Bassist stated the obvious. "Swampy clearly isn't in the right frame of mind, and neither are you for some reason. And to be completely honest, neither am I. So, shall we just stop this torture and call it a day?"

"Thank god for that." Swampy said, standing up immediately. "I would like to say it's been great, fellas, but it really hasn't. So I'm off back to bed. Don't bother me unless you want a heavy book thrown at your head, good bye." And with that he practically ran from the room.

Danny and Bobbi both stared after him. "Well, that's the end of that then." Danny grumbled, taking his guitar off and walking over to his case.

"Do you reckon he's got know." Bobbi made a 'crazy' motion with his hands.

Danny shrugged. "Maybe. He goes through these low periods occasionally I've worked out. I don't have a clue though. I usually try and get him to focus on positives, but then he just tells me to eff off, so." The singer shrugged.

Bobbi nodded, understandingly. "We'll try again next week then." He said, smiling slightly.

Danny sighed. "Yeah. Well. I'll catch you around dude." He patted Bobbi on the shoulder, then left.