#punk and all that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fearhims3lf · 2 months

Text

TIMING: Before the Parker Incident

PARTIES: @animotoph0bia @fearhims3lf

SUMMARY: Looking for an escape, Finn takes a walk and stumbles into the Vinyl Countdown, where Mateo shows him the wonders of punk music.

WARNINGS: None

A phone call with his mom always ended in one of two ways - she was almost too busy to be checking in and ended the call once she had confirmed her son was alive or, on days like today, she ranted. Finn got to hear about his sister’s trouble in school, his brother’s anxiety, how hard work was at the moment and how worried she was about her eldest living in another town. It was draining to say the least and the reason why those kinds of calls usually ended with Finn flopped on the bed, surrounded by smog and head spinning a little too fast.

He’d finally resigned himself to a walk when the options had become that or having a small freak out in the apartment. Time passed in a blur, no real mission ahead except maybe finding something to eat at some point. In his easily distracted state, Finn found himself drawn to the sound of music, decent music even, filtering through an open door and muffling as soon as the door closed. Without hesitation he followed the sound, stepping into a store that thankfully wasn’t crowded. It was, however, filled with gorgeous vinyls, posters lining the wall and making this a feast for the eyes as well as the ears.

Shuffling inside, his fingers traced over every singer and band name he recognized, heart filling with longing even though he had no actual means of playing these beautiful vinyls back in his shitty apartment. The adoration got halted for a moment as Finn was made aware of the sand-like texture in his mouth, backpack thrown off in a less than fluid motion as he began the search for a water bottle that he maybe probably had in there.

—

The shop had been particularly slow, foot-traffic growing slower by the day as the goo around town made it harder for everyone to travel. Mateo groaned to himself, drumming his fingers on his chest as he leaned back in his chair idly. There were two customers, one older man with his son, nothing to really rush to. The older the customer was, the worse, because they knew exactly what they wanted and had no intention of venturing toward something that could actually enlighten them.

“Hmm…” Mateo rocked the chair back and forth on the tips of the legs, contemplating whether or not to convince the boy to rebel and request some good music. “Eh…” He shrugged, brows rising at the sound of footsteps entering the store. “Welcome to the Vinyl Countdown, ask for my help if you need it, or don’t.” Propping his head on his palm, Mateo blew air through his lips, making a raspberry sound out of boredom. He scanned the newest customer, watching the other two leave without buying a damn thing. There was a roll of his eyes and he got up to walk around, leaning over the shelf to peer over it.

“Thirsty for some good music?”

The water bottle had finally been dug out, held victoriously in hands that were maybe struggling a little bit to work the cap, when a voice from nowhere startled him. It wasn’t from nowhere, of course, just the other side of the shelf but it was enough for Finn to drop it and then dumbly watch it roll away. “Shitfuck - I mean, yes. Or hi. Or yes to water and music,” he blathered, elegantly stretching his arm out for the rogue bottle, tilting some of the contents of his bag out in the process.

Crouching down, dropping his bag to the ground before the rest of his belongings littered the floor, Finn stared at them as if wondering what to do other than simply pick them up. Getting up and just leaving did feel like a decent option right now. “This might take a while, can you, like, circle around and come back so I can pretend none of this happened?” he asked, finally looking up at the store clerk from his graceful position on the floor, noting that the guy looked… intimidating. Didn’t feel intimidating though but he didn’t feel like anything, which was to be expected since Finn could barely feel his hands at the moment.

“You look like you’re supposed to be selling something other than music.” See, this is why we don’t go out amongst people in this state.

Okay, so the dude was jumpy and probably needed a good smoke by the looks of it. That wasn’t to say that his state of being was bad. Just a little ruffled and out of place. “I think I’ll stay right here. Make sure you don’t leave anything behind on the floor I cleaned this morning.” Was it rude to do that? Yes. Did the mare care? Not really. It was fun to be a little rude, and it wasn’t like the customer would die of embarrassment. Well, hopefully not. Mateo had learned Wicked’s Rest was capable of anything, and he really didn’t want to soil any good reputation the shop had accumulated.

Laughing at the remark, Mateo rolled his eyes and looked at himself. He wasn’t sure if he was offended by the comment or not. He needed to talk a little longer to really get a read on the guy. “Is it the battle vest? The tattoos? Or my mug?” He tilted his head back, putting on his best macho vibe. If Mateo had really wanted to, he could probably intimidate the guy, especially with how lost he seemed, but sales needed to be made and punks to be recruited.

“Regardless, I’m here to get music in your hands. I can probably throw a little extra in there, but that depends on your music taste.”

Honestly, fair. Finn probably wouldn’t have left himself alone under normal circumstances so the store clerk had the right idea. “Guess I’m thankful I’m not dragging myself along a dirty floor,” he muttered to himself, finishing the job of finally gathering up his belongings with dark eyes boring down on him. Backpack zipped up safely and thrown over his shoulder, Finn finally got to his stupid feet, bottle of water crinkling in his hand as the guy laughed. Angry? Offended? Amused? Fuck, it was hard to tell.

Shrinking into himself slightly, Finn still took the question very seriously, eyebrows furrowing in deep thought before two syllables finally made their way out, slow and dragged out. “Haircut,” he decided was an appropriate answer for some reason, one finger wagging in the vague direction of the guy’s head. “Also just the whole ‘fuck everything’ vibe which…” He gave a thumbs up, the gesture genuine even though he probably looked like an idiot.

The temptation to leave was still rearing its head but it seemed the guy had a sale to make and honestly, wasn’t that the least Finn could do after interrupting the poor man’s whole day and maybe offending him? Uncapping his water and downing more than half of it, Finn finally nodded. “Yeah, yes. Music sounds good. Music taste is… fluid. And I most definitely do not have a vinyl player?”

Yeah, the dude needed to relax, and maybe that was a little Mateo’s fault for several reasons. Most of all, he was doing it on purpose. It was funny, and besides selling a single vinyl so far, that was the most fun Mateo had had all day. He continued his mischievous smile and watched and waited, holding back another chuckle as the gentleman in front of him let his anxiety win over. At least he liked the vibe Mateo was giving off, which meant his opportunity at making a big sale full of the music he adored was broadening.

“Well I most definitely live by ‘fuck everything’ and ‘fuck authority,’ so I’m glad I give off that energy.” Mateo grinned and as he listened to what his anxious customer liked and lacked as far as music went, an idea began to spark. There was money to burn in his pocket, and if he could push something other than Taylor Swift out and get more people listening to something like Public Enemy. ‘The real shit,’ Mateo calls it.

“Tell ya what,” The mare bounced his brows playfully and gestured for the young man to follow. “Don’t even worry about the record player. I’ll cut you a deal.” Mateo spoke as he walked the pair to his favorite section and plucked out the album, Black Dots by Bad Brains. He placed it adoringly into the system, moving the tonearm over for the music to burst to life on the speakers. First the gentle static, then the playful bass, and then finally, the drums. Mateo bobbed his head along, smiling. “Now, you won’t be getting a system like this, but the sound will be just as quality. And better yet, this album was peak punk back in the day. Not to mention, they’re a black punk band. They did punk the best, and you can hear the history in the sound.”

Lucky for Finn, it seemed people with anarchist vibes quite enjoyed being called out on said vibes, the shopkeeper grinning wide and maybe only a little bit at the empath’s expense. “You are very on brand, then.” Bullet seemingly dodged, Finn nodded dumbly at the mention of a deal and shuffled along behind the smiling man. Already wondering how many extra jobs he would have to scrape together after inevitably spending money he didn’t have here purely because saying no at this point would be way too awkward. Well, not purely, he did like the idea of listening to music on something other than his laptops tinny sounding speakers.

Eyes trailed the unassuming looking record cover as it was pulled out, the band name not ringing any bells in particular. It was fitting though - ‘bad brains’ sounded like a good description for a soundtrack to Finn’s life. Sound started to filter through the speakers before Finn could voice that very astute thought to the shopkeeper, head tilting further and further with each introduction of a new instrument. It was loud, brazen - the kind of shit sixteen year old Finn would have loved to blast back at the family house to annoy his mom on one of her ‘more controlling than usual’ days.

The hand not clutching the water bottle tapped distractedly against his thigh to the chaotic beat, mind jumping from the notes to the words, gaze focused on the spin of the record. Snapping back into his environment as the low voice cut through the music, Finn turned his attention back to the shopkeeper. “I’m not even going to pretend to know the different sorts of punk but… yeah. Hell yeah.” He held out a hand for the vinyl cover, flipping it over to look at the back and huffing out a small laugh at the song titles. “They’re great.” He couldn’t have pretended not to like it even if he’d wanted to, head subconsciously bopping along, small smile curled on his lips as the record rolled into the next song. An even more aggressive guitar strum surrounded the pair, filtering through Finn’s entire body, making him excited to blast these guys in his headphones at a volume that would threaten his hearing permanently.

Victory in sales wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it always felt like there was a scale, always on the verge of tipping in any one direction. Mateo often found it shifting in his favor, but nevertheless, it was always a relief to not pivot toward failure. “Now, these guys are from back in the day, ‘bout…seventies. Late seventies, I think.” Holding a finger up to ask for a moment, Mateo sifted through more records, chuckling triumphantly as he found the two other records he was looking for.

“This album is a little old, but a little more recent, and they released a single two years back. Good shit honestly. Look ‘em up on whatever you listen to music with, but you gotta get this album, too.” He presented Hearts of Hoodlums by Whole Wheat Bread, spinning it between opposite corners. There was just one final album Mateo wanted to find, and it was only a section over. With a smile, he reached over and slid it out of the array of other records, planting it on top of Hearts of Hoodlums. “Teen Mortgage just came out with their self-titled album last month, and it’s bomb as hell. Punk revival at its finest.”

He puffed his chest victoriously just before removing Black Dots from the player and returning it to its sleeve. When it joined the rest of the pile, Mateo placed them all in Finn’s hands and walked away to retrieve a player he’d refurbished from a storage closet. It was an older Crosley turntable he’d found that only had a few frayed wires and needed a needle replacement. After that, it was good as new, and it even still had the original box, which Mateo presented when he returned. “Thirty bucks and all of this is yours. I fixed up that turntable so it’s no big deal to pay what it was worth before. Just pay for those sweet records and spread the good word of punk.”

Finn let the music bleed into him as the clerk rifled through records, actually appreciative of the fact that there were no outside emotions spoiling the experience. Sure, a thought had passed through the semi functioning portion of his brain that so far, no emotions meant vampires but this was public and in broad daylight. Besides, eating your customers was far from a good business model.

Nodding along as the clerk’s excitement grew with every pulled record, Finn realized this is what people normally meant when they talked about infectious excitement. The passion held for the music being displayed was hard to ignore and it definitely made the empath curious to listen. A change of pace from making a fool out of himself and applying that the guy looked like he should be a thug for hire, but a good change. Returning the genuine smile that somehow softened the man’s harsh edges, Finn couldn’t even be bothered to worry about how much money he was about to lose. “Look, the only music recs I’ve ever gotten are from my younger sister so I am putting my faith in you completely.”

The records felt nice in his hands - maybe shit like this would make the apartment at least semi less depressing. Speaking of stuff that would liven up the apartment… “Oh, dude. That’s so dope. Pretty sure my dad might have had something similar now that I think about it.” And consequently, Finn made sure to not think about it. Running a hand over the slightly frayed edges of the box, his head whipped up as it came to the payment part of the sale. “Wait, seriously? I mean, I can totally pester people about good music like nobody’s business but… are you sure?”

Sale tactic or not, this definitely felt like a nice gesture.

—

When a younger sister was mentioned, Mateo couldn’t help but think of his own back home. How most childhood afternoons were spent picking music and ragging on each other’s tastes. They’d skip songs, yet spend hours dancing or head banging around the room before their parents were home to tell them to turn the “noise” off. Then when it was quiet, they would make mixes, blending the music they were just making fun of because music held value, and the currency changed from person to person.

To this day, Mateo still held on to a good handful of those old cds, and he softened with a swallow as he thought of those memories, almost thankful for the babbling idiot that was now a bit more composed than before. He chuckled, mostly to himself, but also because it was an appropriate reaction to mask the tenderness he was experiencing. “Ayo, don’t knock her tastes too quickly. Guarantee there’s at least one banger in there.” With a smug but friendly shrug, Mateo patted the records. “But…putting your faith in me is a smart move. C’mere.” He took all the items and led the two to the register, scanning each one as a mixture of reverence and awe washed across the customer’s face. That’s when Mateo knew he’d not only made a sale, but also helped someone truly listen to the message of punk. Passion, freedom, and expression.

“I’m serious, chico. Like I said, found that thing and fixed it pretty easily. Not losing anything on it, and if it plays these records, that’s all the payment I need.” With a passionate rocker horns gesture, Mateo wrapped the records and placed them on the turntable’s box. “So gimme that thirty bucks and scram to listen to these. Oh, and, uh…” He plucked a logo sticker from the stack and planted it on top of everything. “Don’t forget to come back for another hit.”

It was hard to remember why exactly Finn had been so intimidated by the guy before. Okay, maybe not hard - he was confident and had a buzz cut and maybe looked a tiny bit scary in that way his sister definitely would have fawned over - but definitely silly. Not to say he’d want to pick a fight with the guy but in the setting of discussing music, the clerk was easy to talk to. “If there is, she’s not sharing them with me,” Finn sighed, following obediently to the register and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Right! Yes, payment.” The traitorous bag was pulled off his shoulder, this time with less incident, and the crumpled bills dug out from a zipped pocket. Finn was sure he’d probably been saving that money for something but whatever it was, this literally felt more important. Maybe just a tiny bit because he wanted this guy to like him but mostly because of the music. Bills exchanged for the purchase, Finn scooped the stack into his arms with a smile. “For sure. Next job that doesn’t pay like crap, I’ll swing by straight after. Which, by the way, you ever need a coder for anything, I owe you one.” He raised the new, prized possession in his arms to cement the point before adding, “and also for not kicking me out for being an idiot.”

Starting to backtrack towards the door, careful with the record player because at the very least, he wasn’t going to break it in front of the guy that had literally just fixed it up, Finn gave a tiny wave. “See you, then. And, right, I’m Finn, if you need coding. And I am leaving now. So, uh, punk rock and all that.”

#wickedswriting #writings #nightmarescapes #c: finn #finn and mateo #punk and all that

8 notes · View notes