Saffron walked over to his bed and sat down as we all piled into his room. Lee and Ryan both sat on the white carpet but I remained standing, admiring the amount of memorabilia Saffy had kept.
“You ever heard of us?” I heard Saffron ask, his voice softer than usual.
“I used to love you guys.” I admitted, looking at Saffron. His head was turned towards the memorabilia, so I turned to admire the poster he was looking at. In the poster, the raven’s hair was much shorter and his face looked like it’d been blasted with a shotgun. There were four black studs on his bottom lip and he had a massive black ring through his septum. He obviously didn’t wear those piercings anymore. Well, maybe he’d kept his septum; you could flip that ring up so it was hidden in the nose.
As I stood beside Saffy’s bed, I began to realise just how surreal this experience felt.
“It feels really weird to actually be in your room when I used to really admire you.” As soon as I stopped speaking, I instantly began to fluster. “Not that I don’t still admire you! Oh you know what I mean.”
Saffron just smiled.
“You know, that band was my life; it still is, I guess. We managed to get a record deal from a major American label a year before we split up.”
“Not bad.” Lee commented. “I don’t like all that mad rock music but then again, I’ve never really listened to it. I’ll check you out.”
Saffron laughed dryly.
“If you don’t like mainstream rock, you won’t like us; we were grindcore.”
I cast a glance over my shoulder and saw Lee frowning; he had no idea what grindcore was and since Saffron didn’t elaborate on the music genre, my brother was left in the dark.
Saffron patted his bed, motioning for me to sit beside him. I obliged.
“This is Sora Aizawa.” He pointed at one of the photographs, his voice taking on a strange tone. It was a photo of the drummer, sitting with his arms around Saffron, a half-empty bottle of tequila in one hand, his sticks in the other. Both of them were grinning. I frowned as I stared at him; he was like an oriental version of me. The resemblance was almost uncanny. There was something unusual about Sora; he didn’t have the usual smouldering black or brown eyes that most Asian people had. Instead, his eyes were light hazel, like my own.
“Do I look like him?” I checked for confirmation. Saffron nodded. Lee got up and leaned over my shoulder, studying the photo for himself.
“Mm.” Saffron nodded. “Sora was the reason Close To Post Mortem split.” he admitted. “Someone shot him dead.”
His words were blunt; instantly, a strange, awkward atmosphere descended upon the room.
“What happened?” I asked curiously.
“His little brother was involved in gangs.” Saffron explained. “Sora was shot trying to protect him. He got caught up in something that should never have happened.”
As silence fell upon us, Ryan continued Saffron’s story.
“Saffron had known Sora since kindergarten so another drummer wasn’t an option. They were like brothers. Sora’s death was perhaps the main reason why we moved – to give Saffron a new start.”
Saffron cleared his throat and then got to his feet, taking off his coat. Underneath, he was wearing a loose grey v-neck.
“So anyway,” he swiftly changed the subject. “I think it’s time to get the party started. What d’you guys think?”