#Can you not call him a stupid asshole on his birthday because he misheard you on a side dish and then the resturant messed up your order?

[desthen]

Me: I'm so glad my parents are getting along better. They seem excited for their anniversary

Literally the next time I see them, 2 minutes in to my visit, they get into a big ass fucking arguement infront of me, where my mom brutally insults my dad over a misunderstanding /on his birthday/ and then they only talk to me for the rest of the evening unless they're making snide comments.

Me:

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

Hey! I don't know what kind of prompts you write but as I'm now officially a grumpy old woman, please could you write something about a grumpy Bobby? Thank you! x

Happy birthday friend!!! Have some grumpy Bobby, featuring Luke is an Insensitive Dumbass Sometimes, @latinposeidon ‘s JatP timeline that makes Luke a Pisces, and some angst you didn’t necessarily ask for. I hope you like it! This technically takes place in my All Too Well verse cause it vaguely references my Bobby tragic backstory, but you don’t have to have read that to understand this.

--

It takes Luke longer than he’s proud of to realize something’s up with Bobby.

In his defense, Luke’s been a little distracted lately. Tomorrow’s his seventeenth birthday—his first birthday since he left home—and it’s all he’s been able to talk about for weeks now: what he’s gonna do and what he’s gonna eat and (perhaps most importantly) what he’s gonna play (because Bobby is actually the coolest friend and rhythm guitarist ever and somehow managed to get Sunset Curve a gig at this awesome club down by the beach on Luke’s birthday and Luke almost kissed him he was so excited).

Luke’s pretty sure his friends are a little sick of him by now, or at the very least sick of how much he’s been talking about his birthday, but he just can’t stop, for all the same reasons why none of his bandmates verbally call him out on it: it’s his first birthday since he left home, his first birthday without his mom to make his favorite chocolate cake or his dad to gift him cassette tapes he thought Luke might like (meaning they’re terribly out of style), and if Luke doesn’t force himself to be excited about it every minute of every day until it’s over, he’s going to have a complete and total breakdown, so yeah, he’s not gonna shut up until the day after tomorrow, but he’s also not gonna cry, so his friends are just gonna have to deal with it.

(And actually, now that Luke thinks about it, that might be why Bobby got them this gig in the first place. Nothing can distract Luke from his problems like music can. So, yeah, reiterating: best friend and bandmate ever.)

But for now, Luke’s birthday and their next epic gig are still a day away, and Sunset Curve is supposed to be rehearsing, but mostly they’ve just been playing the same song on repeat for an hour because something isn’t working, and it takes Luke way too long to realize it’s Bobby.

“Bro, are you sure you’re tuned right? Something’s off.”

Bobby takes a little too long to react to Luke’s words, his fingers continuing to fumble on his guitar strings after the rest of them have all stopped playing. Finally, he looks up, and Luke is taken aback by how lifeless Bobby’s eyes look, bereft of any of their usual spark.

“Bobby?” Luke prompts when all Bobby does is blink at him. “Focus, dude. Rehearsal? Gig tomorrow? Any of this ringing a bell?”

Bobby scowls—that’s more like it—and tugs forcibly at the tuning pegs of his guitar, grumbling under his breath.

“Thank you,” Luke sighs, shooting Reggie and Alex an exasperated look. Neither of them return it, too busy frowning worriedly at Bobby, but Luke ignores that in favor of lifting his guitar again. “Come on, guys, once more from the top. Count us in, Alex.”

They barely make it through half the song, though, before Luke’s stopping them again, waving a hand and huffing in frustration.

“It’s not the music,” Reggie pipes up before Luke can say anything. “It’s the energy.”

Luke snaps his fingers. “Yes, thank you, Reg. That’s exactly what it is. Bobby! Where’s the energy, man? Wake up! What, do you need some coffee or something?”

“Yeah, or some new friends,” Bobby snaps, and before Luke has been sufficiently slapped in the face by that, Bobby’s got his guitar off and in its stand and he stomps out of the studio, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud.

Luke, Alex, and Reggie all collectively flinch.

There are a few moments of awkward silence, and then Luke says, “I realize I may have been a bit mean there…”

“Yeah, man, you think?” Reggie says.

“Okay,” Alex sighs. “Go talk to him!”

“Yep, right, on it.” Luke abandons his own guitar and hurries out of the studio.

He doesn’t have to go far. Bobby’s sitting on the little rocky wall next to the driveway, legs hanging down, head in his hands. Luke thinks he might be crying. Or shaking. Luke pauses a few feet away, trying not to show how uncomfortable he feels, and says gently, “Bobby?”

Bobby slowly raises his head, regarding Luke with a dark but hard to read expression. Not crying, Luke’s relieved to see, but the hand that reaches up to shove Bobby’s hair out of his eyes is trembling just enough to be noticeable. Luke frowns, his stomach twisting in concern. He slowly approaches and hops up to sit on the wall next to him.

“Hey, Luke,” Bobby grunts, looking down at his shoes. “Sorry—for sucking today, and for snapping at you. I didn’t—” He shakes his head, frustrated. “I’m just having a weird day, man, I’m—”

“Grumpy?” Luke supplies.

Bobby glares at him, but there’s no heat to it, and a hint of a smirk tugs at his lips. “Tired,” he corrects, rubbing at his forehead with that same shaky hand.

Luke’s concern only grows. He scoots a little closer so that his hip just presses against Bobby’s. “Are you okay? Did you not sleep well last night?”

Bobby lets out a bitter chuckle. “Last night, the night before, have I ever slept well? All good questions. Answer’s always no.”

“Bobby,” Luke murmurs sympathetically. “I’m sorry, man.” He doesn’t know how he’s never noticed, in all his days spent hanging off of Bobby like an extra limb, or all his nights spent climbing through Bobby’s window when he can’t sleep (and really, how did Luke never wonder why Bobby always seemed so ready to meet him at the window, no matter what time it was, always looked so tired and yet wide awake whenever Luke needed him?). Luke feels stupid all of a sudden—stupid and selfish. He nudges his shoulder against Bobby’s, says, “And, hey, man, I’m sorry for being an asshole in there, I was just excited. But it was selfish, and I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.”

Bobby shakes his head, won’t look at him. “Not your fault. Gig tomorrow’s important, I know that.”

“Yeah, but it’s just a gig. There’ll be others. And I know we’re gonna rock it no matter what, so I really need to chill out. I just—you know how it is, man. Tomorrow’s my birthday and—”

“And today’s mine.”

Luke freezes, choking on whatever he’d been about to say next. He stares at Bobby, thinking maybe he misheard him, but Bobby’s got his head ducked toward his lap, and the tips of his ears are turning pink, and he doesn’t correct himself, just lets the words hang there in the air between them until Luke catches up enough to process them.

“Today is your—?” Luke finally sputters, but even just that one question he can’t complete.

“Yeah,” Bobby rasps. “I was held back a year? In middle school. So I’m eighteen. My eighteenth birthday… First one without—”

“Right,” Luke huffs, so that Bobby doesn’t have to say it. “Man, why didn’t you say anything? We could’ve—”

“What?” Bobby cuts him off, finally meeting Luke’s gaze. “We could’ve what, Luke? Celebrated? My parents aren’t even here to celebrate, man. They went to Maui for the weekend. On my eighteenth birthday. Without me.”

Luke winces. “Bobby, I’m—”

“Don’t apologize.” Bobby shakes his head, looks up at the sky for a moment and then back at Luke. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to take the attention off of you when you so clearly needed it.”

It takes Luke a second to realize Bobby’s messing with him. When it hits, he laughs, and bumps his shoulder against Bobby’s again, and then hops off the wall. “Come on, birthday boy! Let’s play through the song one more time, and then the guys and I will let you take a nap while we go pick up some cake!”

Bobby’s smile is fondly exasperated, and barely there, as he rolls his eyes and takes Luke’s proffered hand to help him off the wall, but at least it stays painted lightly on his face the whole rest of the day.

--

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