Since he'd only ever lived in one place, and his family was already deeply entrenched in the scene, Holden was pretty familiar with every single band in his town (and any towns within a radius of, like, 75 miles). Even if they didn't play at the bars he frequented or scheduled shows in basements, he could usually get his hands on a VHS, and about half the time he did his best to show his support. When he wasn't a personal fan he could pick out what was a good band and what wasn't nonetheless. Get raised by musicians and that became a force of habit - he knew the lifestyle, knew how hard it was to make a living from what you loved (and consequently how easy it was to give it all up just to keep a roof over your head), so of course he kept up with anyone trying to 'make it,' and, with his own moderate success locally, reached out to extend a helping hand any time possible. Sometimes, though, they didn't even need his help. His drummer passed him a demo one night, told him his buddy lent some guys his studio who killed it for such a new band. The tape just said 'BULLETS' in scrawled sharpie across the top, which was intriguing enough, but when Holden actually played it he fell in love pretty much instantly. It was rare to hear such vocal power, especially juxtaposed with the coordination between the singer and their instrumental, and Holden - ever the guitar nerd - had to replay over and over again to truly appreciate the tabwork in the background. He was almost grieving over the fact that there were only two songs. Anyway, that was what motivated him into actually finding them, and soon his whole band-turned-fanatics had coerced the younger group into performing a show. Part of Holden sort of wanted to be in the show he already imagined in his head rather than in the audience, but... he already had the one occupation. Unfortunate. Didn't feel like much of a setback, though. Holden tried to ignore his impulses. Pencey's sets all went similarly - fast, loud, and destructive. Holden tended to leave a stage in shambles, and if there was anything breakable, it'd break. Including himself. This time he both kicked a stage light out and dove into a crowd that ripped his hoodie half off him and some hair from his head, so it was a homerun. In any case even the crowd familiar with them showed an untiring enthusiasm, giving Holden high hopes for the band they were now babying to success. When he passed them on their way up the singer said something indistinguishable, partly 'cause it was too loud, and partially because Holden had already established a stupid schoolboy crush on them [i]somehow[/i]. Really he was just far too easy. All you had to do was look dead and a little unwashed, bam, he was into you. It was only after they dazzled him with an unusually sharp smile and turned away that he could process the compliment, and Holden promptly had to lean against the wall to concentrate his brainpower on not dumbly confessing his attraction rather than on standing. He's totally crazy fucking good with that guitar. [i]Thanks[/i] was his quiet reply, a whole thirty seconds after they were already out of earshot. He recovered quickly if only to be first infront of the stage and stared up like a kid seeing their idol for the first time. Honestly, he didn't even know them that well. If the bands had formally met, well, he was definitely stoned at the time. Now, though, sober and desperate to put a name to the face, Holden studied the frontman who looked like they'd already performed in the few moments the band got to put themselves together before playing. They even smoked his brand. Hell. Holden was just about leaning against the stage by the time they started, narrowly avoiding the pit starting behind him but still shouting out what lyrics he could make out when he originally listened to their demo. His energy seemed to pass on to the crowdmembers around him who would otherwise have been deterred by an unfamiliar group, 'cause soon he was surrounded by people throwing their arms out like him, urging on the mysteriously charismatic lead without knowing anything about them. Yeah, Pencey had definitely chosen the right pet project. Holden rushed back to meet them as soon as they came off again, ready to rave about how well they did but too nervous to talk over his other band members. He wasn't a nervous person, generally, but this was definitely [i]new[/i] to him, to be so taken aback by a group and specifically one member. He didn't really trust his mouth not to betray his bias, mostly. To compromise he let the others talk amongst themselves excitedly, looking as discreetly as he could at the oddly pale and less-oddly disheveled lead, hearing bits and pieces of conversation that would reveal them to be 'Mitch.' Sounded about right - so he definitely knew that information at least subconsciously. Rather than carrying a cohesive look, Mitch sort of stood out from the rest of their band in that they looked like the band had just dug them up from a grave, so maybe he could blame his intrigue on that. But then that totally implicated him into some weird sexual interests, so no. Holden cut his losses and decided he'd just have to go along with his strangely powerful crush. They caught his eye while he was very blatantly staring, though, and he felt nothing less than supreme embarrassment, quickly looking away simultaneously. They disappeared just as swiftly and Holden naturally followed, his feet more confident than his mind, but it at least brought him somewhat back to normal. Probably not for the best. 'Normal' for Holden was being forgetful of boundaries, so self-assured that it hurt. So he was close to that state again when he landed directly beside Mitch, trying at a small smile when they turned to him and managing it. Thank god- he was kind of getting over his awkwardness, then. Up this close he could see the red around their eyes, the thick hair that clung together from either grease or stage sweat or maybe both, truly androgynous features. He honestly meant to say hi first, but their unique appearance was proving to be entirely too distracting. Holden had a second to feel self conscious about the fact that they had to look slightly down to see him, but then their eyes were exploring his collection of body mods. [i]That[/i] Holden was not ashamed of. [i]Hey. Holden, right? Nice lip ring.[/i] For one thing, Holden was dangerously close to inviting them to bite it the way everyone romanticized lip rings, and for another, with his close inspection, any 'biting' suggestion appeared deadly. He was distracted from making an ass of himself by having to hide his curiosity about the stark canines that occasionally gleamed as Mitch spoke. Maybe asking was a little rude, or a weird thing to notice, he didn't know. [b]"Thanks!"[/b] he said easily, pairing the oblique silver shine with a quick flash of his teeth in a grin. [b]"I just wanted to say, uh- your band is fucking awesome. Like, 'I'd [i]buy [/i]every record and not pirate it' awesome. You guys killed it."[/b] Holden paused, thinking about their stage acting again and sort of phasing out, before correcting himself. [b]"Oh, and I think you're really hot, so can I buy you a drink? Is beer cool?"[/b] He barely waited for an answer before reaching over the counter himself and taking two cans of Pabst from ice, putting a bill on the wood in return. Perks of being a regular, apparently. [b]"Speaking of record. When do I get one?"[/b]