Steve feels something hit his legs and clatter to the floor. He doesn't look at whatever hit him; he looks at Eddie, across the room.
"Did you just throw something at me?"
"No," Eddie lies, arm still extended.
Steve rolls his eyes at him, then looks down at the floor, where two drum sticks are laying at his feet. "What-"
"Outside," Eddie says, and he doesn't even wait for Steve to get up before he starts running for the door.
Steve sighs, but he picks up the sticks and follows, admittedly at a slower pace.
Outside is cold as shit. The wind blows Steve a little sideways, but Eddie doesn't seem bothered. He stands, arms out, showing off the open back doors of his van.
The entire back seat is occupied by a drum kit. It's cramped as hell, but Steve thinks there's a little stool wedged in there and just enough room for a person.
"Eddie, what-"
"Tell me if i'm going too far," Eddie says, "but you mentioned wanting to pick up something new, and I figured this might be okay."
Steve doesn't know how to say thank you to that, so he says, "Gareth is gonna kill you."
"Nah," Eddie says with a smile. "I’ve borrowed the set before. He knows where it is."
"I don't know how to play drums."
"Neither do I," Eddie says. "Let's figure it out."
He bows dramatically, prompting Steve to enter the van. He does so with a light shove on Eddie's shoulder.
He almost bangs his head on the roof, but eventually he gets situated in the midst of all the drums.
He's not sure where to start. He ignores his hands shaking.
Because that’s a thing they do now. They shake all the time, anywhere from a little rattle to a tremor so bad he can’t hold anything.
Steve hates it. He balls his hands into fits and takes a deep breath.
"Now, I've never actually played," Eddie says, sitting on the edge of the van floor, facing Steve. "But I’ve watched Gareth enough. Start with the bass drum, the one by your foot."
Steve tentatively steps on the pedal. It makes a soft thud. He does it again and again, starting up a steady beat.
"Good," Eddie says, and his enthusiasm for something so simple is so contagious, Steve can't help but smile. "If you want to use your other foot, you can step on the high hat. It should be to your left.”
Steve keeps his right foot going on the bass and his left starts a dun dun-dun, dun dun-dun on the high hat. He looks at eddie, who's got his eyes closed and is humming something.
Eddie cracks his eyes open. "Sorry, force of habit. Just thinking about a guitar part for this."
Steve laughs. Of course he is.
"You can do whatever with the sticks," Eddie says. "Just do what sounds right. You’re not gonna break the drums, not if you don't try to."
Steve takes a breath and tries.
It's hard, trying to keep everything going at once. He steps off the high hat and focuses on keeping the bass drum going in time with his sticks.
Eddie calls out rhythms for him to try, and Steve does his best to parrot them. His hands are still shaking, but the stutter they make on the drums sounds cool.
It sounds unique. It sounds good.
He definitely isn't holding the sticks right. It doesn't matter.
When he feels brave, he tries out a solo. He just goes, not caring about the rhythms at all, just doing what feels good. It’s loud and he can't think, he just goes and goes and goes until his head is just sticks and cymbals.
When he's done, he's panting for breath, and Eddie is smiling at him like he hung the moon and stars.
"I think you need your own set, Stevie," he says.
Steve thinks so, too.
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