- So, this music? Are you going to show it to us, or are you going to keep it for yourself?

Johnny lights a cigarette, despite my protests.

- Listen, Billie Joe, we're going to calm down right now, because you're the last one to arrive, so honestly, you have no right to ask that, protests Aiden.

- Seriously?! exclaims John. Do I really have to be the one typing the compound first name? Couldn't you have found something more beautiful?

I feel the red rising to my cheeks under the effect of anger. I get up abruptly.

- Dare you again to say that this first name is ugly, I'm making you eat all my Green Day records one by one. And you're blowing smoke everywhere!

John smiled, obviously proud of having managed to piss me off.

- Try it, to see! he said with a laugh. Try to make me swallow your records. You'll never be able to, you care too much!

- Of course, I do while sitting down.

- Canwe work or are you going to bicker like kids for a long time?! Aiden gets upset.

- It's true that you two are boring, Adele slips us in. Come on, Aiden, show us.

She puts her hand on that of the blonde, who nevertheless withdraws it briskly, to turn the pages of his notebook.

- She's here, he said, pointing to a double page.

The text is crossed out, scribbled in a hurry for some parts. Others are even perfectly illegible, but most of the lyrics remain understandable. Barely read, John already finds fault with the music.

- It's too much... I don't know. Too gloomy. Too hard. You feel like you're reading the confessions of a suicidal person, seriously! Anyway, I don't sing something like that. It's too much for my poor little heart.

- Your poor little heart is going to end up being kicked out of the group, grumbles Morgan.

Then, turning to Aiden, he adds :

- I like it.

Johnny gets up angrily from the windowsill on which he has been sitting for five minutes.

- You know what? It's not even worth tiring yourself out to fire me. I'm on my own.

He removes his denim jacket from my coat rack, and leaves my room slamming the door of it. I rush to him on the stairs. As he is about to cross the threshold of the front door, I stop him by squeezing his arm.

- What's up again? does he let go of me bitterly. Are you going to tell me again that I'm screwing everything up? That because of me we're not moving forward? That...

I silence him by gently placing my lips on his. I can feel her cheeks heating up, knowing for a fact that my skin has also taken on this red hue. If he only knew that I have been pretending not to understand the signals that Aiden has been sending me very clearly for almost three years, simply to allow me, if only once, to kiss John.

His reaction surprises me more than anything. I, who expected to be repulsed, feeling him tighten up to me makes me feel like an immense breath of fresh air.

- Why? he asks me after we take off. Why did you kiss me right now?

I smile at him.

- Because I love you, Bitch.

Her eyes start to sparkle.

Boo-boo.

Like what, a simple nickname, as stupid as it is mean, can wake up an overwhelming wave of memories.

That was ten years ago. The Prits family had just moved into our street. Our band was, at that time, still composed only of Adele, Aiden, Morgan and me. Four neighbors of the same age, who went to the same school, and who hung out together. We had absolutely all laughed at the young Johnny Prits. Plump, with red hair and a shy look, this shy child had made us all snicker.

Until one day he started crying in front of me. Her round cheeks were soaked with tears, and it was only then that I realized how stupid we had been, all as much as each other. I had made excuses, the only thing I had been able to do, at the age of seven.

Since then, John has not left our band. He has changed radically, both physically, by dyeing his hair black and losing a lot of weight, and mentally, by becoming a big provocateur, but deep down, I am the only one who really realizes that he is still the same red-haired and plump little boy he was ten years earlier.