2022 Advent Challenge

'I'm not sure about this, Crowley.'

Ever since the conversation had turned this way, Astron had been trying very hard to push aside his misgivings. Crowley wasn't a good person – he had figured that out pretty quick when they'd reunited unexpectedly after eight years. Even in school, Crowley had been a troublemaker, but if what Astron had heard about him was true, he'd done far worse things since leaving.

The man in question flapped his hand in a dismissive manner. 'Astron, all I hear is whining. C'mon, don't you want to do this? It's gonna be awesome.'

'Sure I do, but...' I don't know how I feel about being associated with you. It's been so long. We can't just pick up where we left off and have everything be normal; don't you understand that?

'But what? Actually, I don't wanna hear it. Just get your stuff and meet me at 12 Blackburn Avenue tonight.' There was a hint of impatience in Crowley's voice, and Astron realised that he should have given a firm no from the start if he wanted to get out of this situation. It seemed that Crowley had taken his hesitant replies and faltering consideration as a solid yes.

He'd crossed the point of no return.

'OK, OK,' he said, resisting the urge to sigh. 'I'll meet you there. But this had better not be some kind of joke...'

'You think so badly of me, 'Stron.'

---

Astron's misgivings did not decrease when he was standing in front of the house. What the hell was this place? It looked like it might have once been a fine old house, but now... It was a dark, derelict place, not much better than a rotting shack, and judging by the flickering light coming from the ground floor windows, it was only lit by candles. Hopefully it wasn't actually rotting...

Nonetheless, his guitar was on his back and he was committed to the part. He gingerly knocked on the door and was immediately greeted by the grinning face of Crowley in human form, dark blue hair flopping over his forehead and yellow eyes reflecting the dim light like a cat's.

'Astron! Thank the gods you showed up, otherwise I was gonna hunt you down and rip your arms off,' he said cheerfully. Astron was never quite sure what to make of these casually morbid remarks, which he could only hope were jokes. 'Anyway, come on in. I promise it's less gross on the inside.'

He was right. The shabby exterior of the house gave way to a... not pretty, but surprisingly comfortable interior, with plush rugs covering the wooden floorboards and solid wood furniture that wasn't the least bit rotted. It didn't even smell bad.

Crowley led him down the hall and through a door on the left, which took them into an expansive living room. There was a fireplace with little ornaments arranged along the top, several old-looking but cosy armchairs, and a coffee table with a few stains that somehow added to the charm of the room. There was even a smattering of Christmas decorations – a miniature tree in the corner, a rope of tinsel above the fireplace.

'Wow,' he said, taking it all in. 'So this is your place, Crowley?'

'Huh? No. This is my friend Colin's place. He said we can use it for our music stuff as long as we don't suck.'

'Right.' Though he didn't ask, Astron wondered exactly who this Colin was; somebody hard enough to put up with Crowley's admittedly violent behaviour and off-colour humour? But you're here too, a little voice in the back of his mind said. You want to be friends with Crowley too. He tried to shake it off. This is a one-time thing. I already decided that I'm not going to get close to the guy; he's way too dangerous...

That didn't really explain why he was willing to put up with Crowley even on this low level – if he thought it was too risky, why talk to him at all? Maybe he was secretly happy to connect with someone he'd known back in school. And he and Crowley had been good friends once.

They pushed the armchairs back to create a space in the middle of the living room. While Astron was plugging his guitar in, he noticed a strange, lumpy shape in the corner, covered up by a blanket. He was about to ask what it was when Crowley dashed forwards and yanked the blanket off, revealing a small drum set.

'You like it?' he said, grinning when he saw Astron's gaze travelling over the instrument. 'I thought this would be better than the old violin. Now I can give us a beat.'

'Alright, but you still haven't really explained what we're doing.'

'Oh, Astron. It's Christmas – that should give you a clue.'

'A clue, maybe, but not an answer.'

Crowley hopped up behind the drums, picked up a single stick and twirled it around, with a look etched on his face that couldn't possibly mean anything good.

'Weeell, there's a Christmas festival happening in town in about... ooh... two days. I reserved a performance slot. We've got twenty minutes to play whatever the hell we want in front of hundreds of people. So that's what this is, Astron. We're rehearsing for the show.'

Astron stared at him, digesting this information and trying to decide whether he'd expected something more or less concerning.

'You signed us up for a show that we've only got two days to practise for?'

'Yep,' said Crowley, utterly unfazed. 'So let's get started, cuz we need to not only decide what we're playing, but also rehearse the songs. I reckon we should throw in some Snare songs along with the Christmas stuff. That'd be a fun throwback, don't you think?'

It seemed impossible that Astron could have this news dumped on him so suddenly and find a way to be happy about it. But he barely had time to even think; Crowley took the lead and threw them into a series of songs without any input from his friend. As he blearily followed along, he began to lose himself in the sounds and the simple, familiar feeling of guitar strings beneath his fingers. How could be be blamed for starting to enjoy himself, with Crowley's solid drumming reverberating in his chest and the music swelling in the confines of the room?

It wasn't long before Crowley's odd bunch of friends started to crawl out of the woodworks. A young man with dead-white hair, violet eyes and a complete lack of expression, who Crowley gleefully introduced as Colin, the 'owner' of the house. Colin didn't have much to say and left shortly afterwards, but he didn't seem so bad. Then a fluffy dragon who went by the name Naraka showed up, carrying two bottles of beer and burping in a way that suggested he'd already drunk some.

'Got the crap you wanted,' he said to Crowley, his voice slightly slurred. Yep, this guy was an alcoholic.

'Great! Thanks, Naraky. Here, Astron, have a drink.'

'What, no vodka?' Astron joked, remembering their drink of choice back in their school days. When they'd been far too young to drink but did it anyway, because they were young and thoughtless and just wanted to have fun.

'Eh, we'll save that for after the big show,' said Crowley. 'We have to stay at least a little bit coherent right now.'

'I'll be looking forward to it.'

Surprisingly, Astron was. And he was already enjoying himself far more than he'd expected to, given the dubious company he was sharing. Crowley might have a poor reputation, but he hadn't said or done anything really weird all night – he'd thrown himself straight into the music, just like Astron. Maybe all he wanted was a friend to hang out and play with?

Yeah, right. And attacking Stal's little sister was just a fluke. Or a lie.

He knew Crowley wasn't the best person. He could not afford to let go of that knowledge, nor could he afford to get too close to Crowley. He might find himself getting sucked into the crowdragon's worse side, doing things he'd sworn to never do, just for kicks.

But maybe there wasn't anything wrong with things like this? Hanging out together from time to time, whilst maintaining a careful distance and not letting go of his own morals? He wouldn't lose sight of himself; he'd never do anything bad just to appease Crowley. But this... this was OK.

They played on through the night, laughing and drinking.