Chapter Text
Max groggily opens her eyes, her alarm clock blaring out on her bedside table. After a few moments, Max sits up and reaches over to the clock, silencing the incessant beeping. As she sleepily rubs at her eyes, Max looks over at her dresser. Potential outfits are scattered across its surface, ranging from her usual hipster aesthetic to a couple of outfits with more punk-looking graphic tees and very lightly used black jeans. Max was quickly beginning to regret agreeing to go to this concert with Kristen and Fernando tonight, the choice of even what to wear seemingly being nearly too much for her to handle. Classic Max Caulfield, can’t make a choice or put herself out there to save her life. Memories flood back to her of her family, encouraging her to apply to Blackwell Academy for her senior year. Max knew it was what she wanted, but simply being too scared of failure to follow through, she never sent in her application and finished out her high school career in Seattle. It had been a while since she’d beaten herself up over that or even thought about it in general, but the added stress of going to her first concert in Seattle in her 6 years of living there really got to her this morning.
“Max, breakfast!” Max's mother hollered from downstairs.
This seems to finally snap Max out of her mental spiral of what if’s, as she quickly yells back “Just a second!” Max sighs deeply before getting up off her bed, tossing on a graphic tee of a deer and blue jeans, and heading down the stairs.
Max takes a seat at the table, bacon and pancakes already being served by Max’s father, Ryan. He was always the cook of the family; Mom never really had much of a knack for the kitchen, but Dad picked up a few things from the time he spent working in diners as a teenager.
Diner. Joyce. Chloe. Why haven’t you texted her for 4 goddamn years? So much for ‘always’, huh?
Wowser, Max’s brain, way to go. Thinking about everything awful you could on what’s supposed to be one of your most fun nights in years. Max quickly pushed those thoughts down as she shoveled a bite of pancake into her mouth.
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It’s later in the day now, and Max is still deliberating over her outfit in her room. The sun is beginning to set. She is now joined by Kristen and Fernando, her two closest friends over the past few years. Kristen is adorned in her usual combo of hoodie and tank top, although she's ditched her usual skirt for a pair of black jeans. She's also holding a flask, which she and Fernando are gonna share throughout the night. Max is the Designated Sober Person™ for the night, which she generally prefers as alcohol was never really her thing. Fernando, meanwhile, is decked out in a leather vest, a graphic tee with a skull on the front, and some leather biker pants. Classic Fernando, overdoing it as always. Max ends up aiming for a middle ground between the two with her outfit, settling on a plain black t-shirt and black skirt, with a few bracelets around her wrists to tie it all together.
Max takes a deep breath in and looks at herself in the mirror. This is probably the most punk outfit Max has worn in god knows how long, and she is beginning to doubt if it really suits her. Kristen notices the anxiety creeping over Max's face and stands up, moving to Max's side.
"You look amazing, Max. It's perfect," Kristen says, a genuine smile on her face. Max looks over and a small smile creeps over her face.
"You really think so?" Max retorts.
Kristen feigns shock at this remark and steps back slightly. "You take me for a liar, Miss Caulfield? For shame, for shame..."
Max genuinely laughs and slugs Kristen lightly in the arm. With one more deep breath, Max opens her door and heads back down the stairs.
"Mom, Dad, we're heading out to the concert!" Max yells in the general direction of the living room, where her parents are cuddled up, watching a movie.
"Stay safe!" Max's mom quickly retorts.
"We will, bye!" Max shouts back before she and her cohorts leave the house.
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The ride to the venue luckily goes off with little to no incident, which is a near-miracle given the state that Seattle's public transit is in at this point. Despite Max’s nerves earlier in the day, she has this sense of cautious optimism as Kristen and Fernando lead her inside the small building. Though the doors only opened 10 minutes ago, there’s already a decent amount of people inside the part bar, part music stage. Max looks at the crowd around her and the first thing that strikes her is just the sheer diversity.
A Latino man and his two young sons, clearly taken here straight from work at a mechanic’s shop. A young, ginger man with a thick beard and a bottle of kombucha, typing away at one of the tables. A preppy teenage girl, hair cut short, vibing to the openers playing.
The opening band for the night was called the High Seas. They were adorned in pirate hats, playing some classic 80s and 90s rock. Considering the fact they said that this was their first gig, Max thought they played very well. Before she knew it, the openers had played their final song and departed the stage, making room for the next band.
Max reaches into her pocket and checks her phone. Nothing too important. Suddenly, Kristen and Fernando cheer incessantly. Max looks up to see the guitarist of the group’s favorite band setting up on stage. Cheers and claps begin to erupt from the small crowd gathered, as the rest of the band began setting up.
Despite all the hype her friends had given in the past towards the guitarist and lead vocalist, someone else caught Max’s eye tonight. A custom drumset is quickly being assembled on the stage, the bass drum painted in the colors of the lesbian flag. The girl setting it up is wearing a dark red beanie, an unbuttoned flannel, a graphic tee that reads "BE GAY, ROCK OUT", some torn blue jeans, and a pair of black boots. Max is weirdly unable to take her eyes off the girl, who seems to be no older than 21 if that. After a bit more tinkering with the cymbals and hi-hats, the girl sits at the drumset.
“Check. Check,” the young girl says into her microphone.
“Good! Give me drums.” an older man yells back, seemingly indicating audio levels are fine on the mic.
The girl taps her sticks on one of the snares for a few beats before suddenly launching into a nearly half-minute-long drum solo, sounds of crashing metal and percussive beats filling any previous silence. Max is impressed by the combination of control and aggressive energy that the drummer possesses. After she’s finished, she looks back towards the man who looks to be the venue’s owner and is given a thumbs up. The drummer nods her head before speaking once again.
“Hey guys, I’m Steph,” she says. “This is our bassist David.”
A slightly older boy, holding a black bass, waves awkwardly.
“And this is our guitarist and lead vocalist, Natalie,” Steph continues.
Kristen and Fernando hoot and holler with almost too much energy as the guitarist steps forward and bows, a vibrant crimson guitar in her hands.
“You ready to rock the hell out?!” Natalie yells into her mic. The venue nearly reverberates as the crowd cheers and the set begins, but Max’s eyes stay where they were before: on the drummer.