Maurice is still an asshole.

Rob hums tunelessly to himself, his body thrumming with tension. Looking through Maurice's Facewall
photos (fuck Maurice) is having a more visceral effect on him than he had expected.

It's all there, in the pictures. The old practice room in Fudge's dad's garage. The smell of body odour,
diesel oil, and the musty second-hand jacket he'd bought because he thought it would make him look
like Bowie.

He hums, a monotone.

SHUN: You're making that noise again.

Rob smothers the noise coming from the back of his throat. He's logged into Shun's Facewall account, on
Shun's phone, so the least he could do is, like, not be fucking weird in front of him, right?

ROB: They started a new band.

SHUN: Well, you'd already expected that, hadn't you?

ROB: Yeah, but I hadn't seen it. Look.

He finds the post he's looking for, and opens the video. A familiar background fills up the phone screen,
the small stage at the Snail & Cabbage, already kitted out with drums and amps. A few drunken hollers
as Maurice, Fudge and Paulie take the stage.

Maurice is wearing guyliner, for fuck's sake.

ROB: He never used to wear make-up. Why is he wearing make-up?

SHUN: We're wearing make-up.

ROB: Exactly. He's ripping me off. I used to do that, and he told me I looked like an emo twat.

SHUN: I mean, you kind of did. I've seen the pictures.

Rob is back to humming as he scrolls down to the comments, but the sound dies in his throat with a
choked cough.

"we're better now without the fucking deadweight, lol".

"Imagine being put in a boy band just to fit the 'moody bastard' archetype. And then being the least
talented of the lot, hahahahaahha"

"lol, he looks constipated in every photo he's in"

"Remember when they did a Spice Girls song during the finals?"

"lmao!!!!! rob looked like he was about to cry, i nearly pissed myself"

SHUN: Stop.

Shun is taking the phone out of his hands and closing out of Facewall. Rob's knuckles are white. He
wants to hit something.

ROB: I mean.

ROB: They aren't wrong, are they?

SHUN: They're wrong.

ROB: I was about to cry, though.

SHUN: ...Okay, they might have been right about that one. But I was pretty pissed, too.

SHUN: I mean, they could at least have chosen 'Wannabe' instead of 'Say You'll Be There'. We would
have fucking slayed with 'Wannabe'.

Rob is itching to keep reading the comments, but he knows he's not going to be getting the phone back
from Shun now, and he can't log into his own Facewall account to stalk them because the fuckers have
him blocked.

SHUN: Rob.

Rob can feel the lump in his throat forming. He raises his head to the feel the rain on his face, blinking.

ROB: I know. Shut up. Let's have another bacon butty.