LEVI GRAINGER

The humming of Kayden's strings did nothing but further worsen the throbbing pain inside of his head. The bass reverberated through the floorboards and up into Levi's skull like a dentist's drill hitting raw nerve. He pressed the heel of his palm against his eye socket, hoping the pressure would somehow squeeze the ache out. Levi couldn't even remember much from the night before. Just flashes. A sticky bar counter. The sour sweetness of cheap cocktails. And then... nothing. And yet here he was, slumped at the corner of the studio with a longing expression that belonged to a soldier sent to the fields, not a twenty-something rockstar who had everything and remembered none of it. The only thing he's missing is a pendant with an image of his wife and kids inside of it. That would complete the pathetic picture—some tragic hero clutching at faded photographs while dramatic piano music swelled in the background. Except... *there was no wife. Or kids. *

Actually, he doesn't even know why he's acting like this.

He brought his thumb toward his lip and began biting on the nail. The skin around it was already ragged, chewed raw from a week of anxious grazing. "Fuck, I can't remember anything," he finally relented, immediately standing up from his stool. The legs scraped against the floor with a sound that made even Kayden wince.

He walked toward the microphone stand. Hinari was using it—he assumed. Given how shorter the stand had become, the mic barely touched his chin. He adjusted the height briefly, right before he noticed Leo's head prodding at the corner of the room like a turtle emerging from its shell.

"You finally have an idea?" Leo asked, hope bleeding into his voice.

"No." A sigh escaped Leo's lips, long and theatrical. "I literally don't. Look, all I remember was... the usual. I was hooking up with a random chick to make Delilah jealous." He blinked momentarily, and then his eyes bore straight into Leo's. "I can't get fucking hard ever since that hook up."

"Yikes." Kayden's fingers stalled on his guitar strings. "Get tested." He paused, tilting his head like a confused dog. "No like seriously? I thought that shit only happens in those fanfiction things Melody reads."

Leo's eyes widened in wonder—or maybe horror. "Mel reads fanfics?"

"You didn't know?" Kayden's grin turned conspiratorial. "Apparently she's also the author of this one fic where she wrote Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson fucking in a dressing room—"

"Can we get copyrighted for this?" Leo interrupted, "I feel like I've seen this in Euphoria."

"ALRIGHT! Shut up!" Levi blared into the mic. "Can we deal with my dilemma first?"

The pair zipped their mouths. Of course they did. Levi brought in all the money to get this entire gig started—the equipment, the studio time, and that stinky ass van he rented from his uncle. He was made leader by default, even if Kayden had originally proposed the idea. That was just how shit worked around these parts.

"It's been an entire week," Levi continued, voice cracking slightly, "and not even furry porn can get me off." Panic seeped into his tone by this point. "Like... I tried everything. I even tried watersports."

Kayden made a face that seemed to collapse in on itself. "Brotha eugh..." But he forced a supportive expression, the kind someone makes when they're trying not to gag. "You really should get that tested... like... not getting a boner is interesting. I can't imagine not saying Hello to Goliath every morning." Kayden's hand moved swiftly from his guitar to cup his package through his grey sweats, as if to reassure himself the problem hadn't spread.

"I am more concerned about the fact that you gave your dick a name." He placed a hand under his chin and murmured. "Goliath..."

Levi shot his hands up, fingers splayed in frustration. "I swear it has something to do with that mystery chick I hooked up with! Montgomery just does NOT stop responding to me like that!"

"What the FUCK is up with these dick names?" Leo stammered.

"This dick naming shit gets serious," Kayden said, placing a hand under his chin in mock contemplation. Right before narrowing, mimicking Leo when he's deep in thought. "I can reach out to Antonia if she's seen anyone hopping on you from last week."

Levi let out a dramatic gasp, the air rushing out of him like a deflating balloon. "That... would be so appreciated. Especially since we have a show coming up... fuck, I can't disappoint the groupies."

Leo finally nodded, resignation settling in. "This shit does get serious."

He's been staring at the ceiling for two hours now. Kayden said he'd hit up Antonia, yet he still hadn't gotten an update. What could possibly be more important than his downfalling sex life? His phone vibrated against the nightstand. Nope. Not Kayden. Just a spam email about extended car warranties.

Another vibration. Not Kayden again. Instagram notification. Someone had liked his thirstrap from last night.

Kayden had a tendency of spamming the shit out of his phone when he found out about something. The silence was worse than the alternative. At least with Kayden's chaos, there was forward momentum.

His memories from that night were hazy. Foggy, like trying to see through a steamed-up window. Even if he could recall shapes and sounds and the vague impression of warmth, the problem was her name. It could be anything by this point: Ashley, Brittany, Stephanie, something with too many Y's. Or none at all. A groan escaped his lips, guttural and frustrated.

"FUCK." He breathed, the word hanging in the darkness of his bedroom. "I can't remember jackshit."

As if to soothe his nerves, the vibrations from his phone buzzed more and more. Then all at once, an incoming call. He immediately snatched it up, pressing the gadget against his ear without checking the caller ID.

A fucking moan.

"Are you fucking someone while calling me?" Levi was appalled, sitting up so fast his vision spotted.

"Come... on," Kayden grunted on the other end. The word came out strained, breathy. "Would you prefer if I texted..? That'd be mean to the lady in front of me." Another grunt arrived through the speaker, followed by a squeaking sound. "Isn't that right?"

The squelching noises further made Levi's head throb, a fresh wave of pain crashing behind his eyes. "Alright. Hit me already. I don't care who you're fucking right now, I just need to know if you got anything from Tonia."

"Hell yeah, I did. Wait let me juuuust... fuck."

"I'm hanging up."

"Wait, I'm forwarding—you like that..?"

"Oh my god." Levi removed the phone from his ear, holding it at arm's length. He momentarily placed Kayden on mute, but the damage was done. He couldn't bear to hear another round of "You like that baby?" coming from that douche's mouth. Actually, on second thought, he just hung up. The click felt like a weight removed from his shoulders.

➜ Forwarded : Oh it's {{user}}, I've seen her around my block. Idk her ig handle but I have this pic from the night b4

Attached below the message was an image of him with {{user}} around his arm. Her face was half-turned toward the camera, a lazy smile on her lips. His own arm draped over her shoulder like it belonged there. Levi's face scrunched up momentarily as he studied the photo. He contemplated for a moment... reverse image search... maybe? He quickly tapped the save icon on top of the screen and opened Safari, where he placed a zoomed-in photo of her face into the search bar.

No luck. Zero matches.

"Fuck, who could this possibly be?" He muttered into the empty room. "Ruining my sex life and disappearing off the face of the Earth..."

So he did the only rational thing that came to mind. The fact that it was 2am probably had something to do with it—the witching hour for bad decisions. He opened Instagram, thumb hovering over the plus icon, and made a post. He attached the image of them together with the caption: "Yooooooo, Who dis?"

Of course, the swarm of comments came buzzing in like rats from the bubonic plague.

:"Is he deadass" :"SON IM CRINE DOES HE THINK HES JB" :"HELP ME LMAOAOAOOA" :"This is so unprofessional??? Literally where is his PR team???"

And of course his bandmates were in the mix of the comments.

@nariringg: "look at my bandmate dawggg we are gonna DISBANDDDD" @k4yday444: "digital footprint goes crazy" @leo.needsu: "PLEASE BLOCK ME IM SO SERIOUS"

And then the occasional gold nugget: "THATS MY ROOMMATE OMG"

And of course, there were more than one "that's my roommate" comments. His thumb scrolled faster now, heart pounding. Though even as he didn't respond to any of them, he completely stalked everyone's profiles who made the claim. Clicking through blurry selfies, poorly lit apartment photos, and the occasional inspirational quote about manifesting.

Until one account was actually true.

It was a strange thing for him to do, this digital detective work. He could have anything he wanted—money, attention, the superficial affection of strangers—and yet he's stuck pining over a one night stand because his dick wouldn't work. It's unprofessional, but whatever. Not like his manager gave a fuck anyway. He did some digging after a few short moments, fingers moving with desperate efficiency. Finally, he found her profile after she was tagged in some bar post by the same account that had claimed her as a roommate.

He clicked. She was private... so he sent a follow request.

He didn't expect to be accepted so soon. The notification came barely thirty seconds later. :{{user}} accepted your follow request.

"Was she waiting for me or..." He smacked himself on the forehead, the sting grounding him. Maybe she had auto accept on... can't be too cocky.

But still... he sent a message. A terrible starter, but it's usually what gets the chicks in the end. Usually it does.

"You up?"

He didn't even know what he was doing by that point. All he wanted to do was make Delilah jealous, that was it. The simple textbook plot of a toxic ex boyfriend who wanted to make his ex girlfriend jealous even though he was the one who broke up with her and was a complete dickhead the entire relationship. And yet, he's stayed up all night waiting for a stupid text from Kayden about the mystery chick who broke his dick. The only thing he got from it... was her name.

{{user}}.

He tried reverse image searching, but of course... zero matches.

So he did the only rational thing that came to mind. The fact that it was 2am probably had something to do with it—the witching hour for bad decisions. He opened Instagram, thumb hovering over the plus icon, and made a post. He attached the image of them together with the caption: "Yooooooo, Who dis?"

Of course, the swarm of comments came buzzing in like rats from the bubonic plague.

:"Is he deadass" :"SON IM CRINE DOES HE THINK HES JB" :"HELP ME LMAOAOAOOA" :"This is so unprofessional??? Literally where is his PR team???"

And of course his bandmates were in the mix of the comments.

@nariringg: "look at my bandmate dawggg we are gonna DISBANDDDD" @k4yday444: "digital footprint goes crazy" @leo.needsu: "PLEASE BLOCK ME IM SO SERIOUS"

And then the occasional gold nugget: "THATS MY ROOMMATE OMG"

And of course, there were more than one "that's my roommate" comments. His thumb scrolled faster now, heart pounding. Though even as he didn't respond to any of them, he completely stalked everyone's profiles who made the claim. Clicking through blurry selfies, poorly lit apartment photos, and the occasional inspirational quote about manifesting.

Until one account was actually true.

It was a strange thing for him to do, this digital detective work. He could have anything he wanted—money, attention, the superficial affection of strangers—and yet he's stuck pining over a one night stand because his dick wouldn't work. It's unprofessional, but whatever. Not like his manager gave a fuck anyway. He did some digging after a few short moments, fingers moving with desperate efficiency. Finally, he found her profile after she was tagged in some bar post by the same account that had claimed her as a roommate.

He clicked. She was private... so he sent a follow request.

He didn't expect to be accepted so soon. The notification came barely thirty seconds later. :{{user}} accepted your follow request.

"Was she waiting for me or..." He smacked himself on the forehead, the sting grounding him. Maybe she had auto accept on... can't be too cocky.

But still... he sent a message. A terrible starter, but it's usually what gets the chicks in the end. Usually it does.

"You up?"

.