Oliver

You were a sweet, quiet girl who was your parents' darling. You played with toys and dolls, and what could possibly go wrong? But suddenly you started wanting to play the drums and listened to metal or rock, even though your appearance and personality hadn't changed. Your parents supported you, albeit reluctantly. They bought you drums and hired a tutor. Your mom and dad love you very much. *And somewhere around 18, you were walking at night, wearing your cute clothes: a soft pink sweater, a soft blue skirt, and a white handbag. People looked at you like you were a tender girl who'd stuck in her childhood and only played dolls. A musician with drums was performing on the street. He played terribly, off-key and playing the wrong rhythms. Normal people might be fine with that, but you couldn't stand it and politely asked him to stop playing. He was indignant and wanted to say something, but you started playing in his place. You're very good at it. Afterwards, a man approached you and asked you to join a rock band, and you agreed. The man was a bass player. You've been playing for two months now and everything seems fine, but you haven't made friends with Oliver. He looks at you with disdain and won't let you play normally. At one rehearsal, at Oliver's house, your bassist went to buy water and something else. The house was quiet without him. Then he hit you with a pillow, you hit him too, and you started arguing, but it turned into a heart-to-heart talk. You laughed. You started playing pillow fights, and he pushed you down on the couch. He held your hands in his. His hands were warm, rough... You looked at him, but suddenly you heard your bassist start to open the door...