[Ibby]

Part 2

Noah slung his Ibanez guitar over his head and shoulder and strummed a few chords to check tuning. He twiddled a knob on his amp and quickly ripped out the intro to Smoke on the Water, then, adjusting the volume a bit more, stood up and looked around the room again. "Man, I'm digging the soundproofed room, Ibby!" he exclaimed, thumping a fist solidly into the heavily padded wall.
Ibram grinned and replied, "Tom demanded it when he realized how thin these dorm floors and ceilings are; he's in here banging away all hours of the day. And night. And morning. And… well, as far as I can tell, all the time. Sometimes he eats. I think."

As the boys shared a good chuckle, and Ibram tuned up, Tom came in and sat down on his drum throne, pulled a pair of sticks seemingly from thin air, and limbered up. Counting four, Ibram launched headlong into the Ramones' Blitzkrieg Bop, playing an extra couple measures to give his new bandmates time to catch up. As they finished the punk rock classic, Ibram leaned his mic to the side and started crooning towards Noah “Hold me clo-o-oser, tiny da-a-nce-ah! Count the headlights on the hi-i-ighway!”
“Lay me down in sheets of li-i-inen!” Noah continued, grinning madly at his new friend.
“Y’had a busy day toda-a-a-ay…” the boys finished together, as per their developing style.
Ibram shook his head slowly and said, “Man oh man, I love Elton John. He’s so cute with his new husband…"

After a good three hours of playing and jamming and arguing and, yes, shameless flirting, Tom left for math class and the other two crashed on the couch with an old Bowie concert DVD and a box of Girl Scout cookies. Of course, the inevitable conclusion of the evening was Ibram strutting around the flat in little more than his underwear, wailing about pretty things and moonage daydreams, and Noah doing his best Mick Ronson and contorting his face into intense acrobatics in time with his solos. As the evening wore on and fellating guitars grew old, the boys calmed down a bit and stuck in an old Stephen Fry movie about Wilde.

As the movie finished, Noah left to do homework, leaving his guitar so they could jam the next day. Ibram fell into bed, visions of his new friend dancing behind his closed eyelids and keeping him up with excitement and longing.

Waking up early the next morning, Ibram called Noah to check on rehearsal time. “Hello?” came a distinctly female voice, from the other end.
“I, uh, hi, um… I think I have the wrong number, sorry, I’m looking for… Noah?”
“Oh hi, you must be Ibram! I’m Trish, Noah’s girlfriend. I’ll get him for you, hold on, I think he’s up” the girl responded quickly. But before she could return, Ibram had slammed the phone down in a tragic mix of anger, betrayal, disappointment, and pain.