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Growing up a Christian in a small suburban town, you’d had a very plain life. You weren’t allowed to listen to any metal or rock music. You weren’t allowed to watch inappropriate or scary movies. You weren’t allowed to hang about shady parts of town, your parents afraid you’d be ‘corrupted’.
So when the new boy, Dave Grohl, moved to your strict and closed minded catholic high school, your world changed.
You’d never seen anybody like Dave in a real life before. He listened to punk rock music and had bleached hair. He swore and smoked cigarettes. He skipped class and played drums. You’d hardly even realised that people like this could exist outside movie screens.
You couldn’t help but be intrigued. Dave fascinated and excited you in a way you’d never experienced before. When you overheard him talking about the punk shows he’d seen at the weekend, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to go to one. They always sounded so thrilling, brimming with excitement. People screaming, sharing drinks, smoking, stage diving.
You would’ve never dared to talk to Dave. That was until Dave’s family got invited round for dinner one day.
It had been a shock. You’d been in your room, reading a book and listening to some of The Cars when your mother called you down.
“Our guests are here!” Your mother yelled up. You sighed. You’d been told some people were coming over for dinner. This happened often, so you didn’t expect much from it.
You walked down the stairs, ready to put on a dry and polite smile to meet yet another bunch of your mothers acquaintances, but were shocked to see Dave standing there with his mother and his sister.
You practically gasped, faltering on the stairs. Your mother turned back to look at you, staring at you with her perfect white smile and the pearls round her neck. You felt embarrassed, a rocker like Dave seeing your perfect little Christian family. You looked down at yourself, wearing neatly pressed trousers and a polo shirt, suddenly feeling self conscious.
“Say hi to our guests, y/n!” Your mother spoke, beckoning you down the stairs. “David’s just moved to your school!” Your mother and Virginia both worked together at their school, and your mother being the overly friendly woman she was must have invited the Grohl’s over for a meal.
Your eyes widened as you dropped to the bottom of the stairs. You had no idea it was Dave’s family that had been invited over. “Um-..hi.” You shyly shook the hands of all three, feeling your face heat up as you touched Dave’s hand. He was wearing washed out black jeans and a homemade Black Flag t shirt. Even his clothes were cool. You felt stupid standing next to dave.
- - -
You were sat next to Dave at the big dining table, scooping mashed potatoes onto your plate. Your mother had cooked up meatloaf and mashed potatoes and everybody was digging in. You kept darting glances at Dave out the corner of your eye, unable to stop yourself from watching him.
Your head was swimming with thoughts. What did Dave think? Would he like the food? Was he happy to be here? Did he think your family was stupid? You were so confused, you’d never been this anxious about what somebody thought about you before.
All your life you’d kept to yourself. You went to church, you read your books, you did your chores. You were a good boy. The most rebellious thing you’d ever done was sneak some candy into your room. Your life had been so straightforward, so uniformed. But since meeting Dave you just…wanted to act out. Wanted something to change. You wanted some of that excitement Dave was always talking about.
“So, David, how’re you enjoying the new school?” Your mothers words snapped you out of your thoughts. You looked up at her, her too red lips and her eyebrows risen high. You snuck a look at Dave, who had lifted his head up and was giving a bored but polite look. “It’s been fine, yeah. Bit uh-..different to what I’m used to. But it’s fine.”
Your mother nodded, that everlasting smile on her face. You could feel yourself getting hot. You couldn’t understand why you were so nervous. You grabbed your glass, gulping down the cool water.
“Mm, well, I’m sure you’ll find it useful. Y/n’s been going there since his freshmen year, and he finds it quite satisfactory.” Your mother chirped, patting your shoulder.
You gave a withering smile, lowering your eyes to your plate. How embarrassing, you thought. Dave must think you’re such a dork. And he’d be right.
- - -
The dinner went on and the mothers chatted, sharing stories of their kids in youth and talking about work and whatever else middle aged people spoke about. Your mother had ushered you away from the table, telling you to take Dave up to your room.
“Why don’t you show David your room? I’m sure you boys have some schoolwork to talk about!” Your mother beamed, raising her eyebrows again. Virginia gave a kind, pitiful smile—she knew schoolwork was the last thing on Dave’s mind.
You felt numb, palms sweaty and body warm. You tugged at your shirt collar. Dave seeing your room? Oh god. Your whole mind was buzzing with a million thoughts, like a hive overridden with bees.
You slowly plodded up the stairs, barely even registering the world around you. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to do. Should you be speaking? Apologising to Dave for him having to come over? God, what was he thinking about you?
You reached the top of the stairs, the buzzing in your ears the only thing telling you you were still in your body and hadn’t floated up above in embarrassment.
“Uh-..my rooms at the end here.” You murmured. Dave looked about as bored as you were nervous. “I- um I just wanna say I didn’t know you were coming over. Sorry about this. My mother likes to have everyone around.”
You wrung your hands together like you were squeezing water out a cloth. You pushed open your door, revealing your fairly bland bedroom. Neat single bed, shoes tucked underneath. Your floor was tidy. There was a beanbag next to your record and cassette player, and stacks of records and cassettes were set up neatly beside it.
“It’s fine,” Dave responded, eyeing your room. His eyes caught on your record collection in the corner, and he moved towards it. He looked a the sleeve that lay empty next to the record player and smiled, shooting you a teasing look.
“The Cars?” He teased. You felt yourself blush, but you swallowed. “My mum doesn’t like me listening to much else. She says rock music nowadays is the devil.”
Dave couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping his lips. He straightened up, looking at you. “Sorry. Do you believe that too?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his big brown eyes staring at you past his thick fringe.
You shook your head quickly, stepping away from your door now. “No, of course not. I’m not that naive. You know I-..well, sometimes I’ll listen to those rock stations whilst I’m driving the car alone. I like a lot of the stuff.”
Dave laughed again, but in a kinder manner. “Woah, what a bad boy you are,” he smiled at you, slightly. “You should hear some of the stuff I’m listening to. Way heavier than The Cars. I bet your mom would freak.”
“That..punk rock stuff?” You question. Dave nodded, a small smirk on his lips, like he was proud of it. You swallowed. “My mother isn’t a fan. I remember seeing a poster for Sex Pistols once in a shop and my mother walked in there to tell the shopkeeper to take down such inappropriate stuff.”
Dave laughed again, shaking his head. “Man..sex pistols aren’t that bad. I guess they’re kinda raunchy. But you should hear some REAL punk music. Black Flag, Germs, Minor Threat… Scream’s my personal favourite. They’re from right here, in Virginia!”
You nodded along to what Dave was saying. Even the names of these bands were exciting and dangerous. Much more exciting than The Cars or The Beach Boys, stuff your mother liked.
“I’d like to hear them some time.” You said, trying to meet Dave’s gaze. You were feeling less nervous, less like you were about to dissolve into a puddle of sweat.
Dave nodded his head, giving you a look you couldn’t read. “Y’know man…you should talk to me at school more. You seem like an alright dude.” Dave spoke.
An alright dude. You sighed internally. You couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult. Just alright? Or was alright good? You nodded, giving a week smile and patting your trousers pockets.
“I will, yeah, okay. And you-..you seem really cool, Dave. Nobody at school is really like you. Everybody-.. everyone’s so boring.” You felt silly saying that, but it was true. Nobody at school was truly rebellious like Dave. You knew he smoked weed. You knew he cut classes. You knew he swore in places where it was a terrible sin. You knew he took risks. And you’d be lying if you said that didn’t excite a part of you that nobody had ever excited before. A part of you no man should ever excite in another man.
Dave smiled, patting your shoulder. “Hey man, thanks. I don’t think I fit in much at that school,” he gave a lopsided grin. “My mom sent me there for reform. Thinks I smoke too much weed, don’t study enough.” He paused, wetting his lips. You watched his tongue, pink, dragging across his plush lips. “She’s right.”
You stared at him, not sure what to say. “I’ve never smoked weed. I’ve never smoked anything.” Is all you responded with lamely. Dave laughed, and you curled your toes in your socks. The sound of him laughing, laughing because of you. People rarely found you funny. You weren’t sure if you were trying to be funny.
“Yeah, man, I kinda figured. You don’t seem like a very rebellious person.” Dave responded. You knew when he said that he wasn’t meaning to be mean or to hurt your feelings but for some reason it did. It did rub you the wrong way that everybody saw you as some goody two shoes—even if you were.
“I wish I were,” you muttered, folding your arms. You felt so embarrassed. Saying to Dave, the punk, the beautiful authority defying smoking trouble making punk, that you wanted to rebel, knowing you were standing in a polo shirt listening to The Cars.
Dave stared at you for a long moment, looking at the way you held yourself. Like you were insecure, regretful. He saw the crosses all throughout the house. Heck, he saw the cross on your bedside table. He watched the way your mother acted. He saw how you were at school. He knew that your faith was tying you down like a dog chained to a fence. He wanted to be the one to let you break out.
Dave was the saviour you had been looking for. A saviour different to the lord. A saviour that would satisfy that craving you’d had all your life. Satisfy that feeling inside of you that always made you feel different, feel alienated from the rest.
“You can rebel in plenty ways,” Dave said softly, stepping slowly towards you. You could smell him. He smelt like coconut shampoo and something earthy. You wondered what he tasted like. You nibbled your lip. You knew you shouldn’t be having thoughts like that but something about Dave made it hard to stop—or even want to stop.
“Like what?” You asked, looking up at Dave and locking eyes with him. He looked down at you again through his shaggy hair. He was beautiful up close. He was tall and skinny and his adam’s apple stuck out like a triangle. His lips were weirdly shaped and his nostrils were too big. It something about Dave made you feel giddy inside. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time.
He smiled, murmuring, “Like this.” He bent down, pressing his lips against yours. You froze up, first instinct to reach behind you and make sure the door was shut. You’d heard what your mother had said about homosexuals. Or rather, not said. She liked to prefer they didn’t exist.
You kissed back, eyes squeezing shut, unsure what to do. You hadn’t kissed anybody in your entire life. And to have Dave kissing you right here in your room, you almost fainted.
When Dave pulled away a little whine escaped your lips. You stared up at him, cheeks pink. Dave smirked, looking you up and down with such intensity. You felt like you had to shy away, cover yourself up.
“Hm. Maybe you are a bit rebellious after all.” Dave commented, before slipping past you and opening the door, heading down the hallway.
You stood dumbfounded, licking your lips, sucking up any trace of Dave. Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever thought of that happening. You lifted a hand to touch your lips, almost unsure if that was even real. But it was. It had happened. Dave the beautiful rebellious punk rocker who smoked too much weed and never studied had kissed you on the lips, in your room.
- - -
The Grohl’s left soon after. You stood next to your mother, waving them away and watching them leave to their car. You saw the way Dave’s gaze lingered on you. It excited you, made your stomach roll. You felt like a giddy schoolgirl. You bit your lip, staring at the cross hanging on the wall, the one hanging in gold round your mothers neck.
You knew your mother wouldn’t approve of your kiss with Dave. Not many people would. But you couldn’t help but want to do it again and again and again.