Seeing as I've only seen Bandstand once, I'm gonna do my best and kind of make up my own stuff. Some stuff may not be right, like, at all, but I'm trying so just let me know.
Again, I can't quite remember some(read: most) of the details so just pretend I have some sort of idea of what happens in the musical.

Also, this is very short compared to most of my other chapters and stories, so I'm sorry. The next chapter will be longer, I promise.
***

Johnny had been home for a couple of months.

His mother had insisted he live with her and his father for the first month or two, but Johnny had finally managed to convince her to let him move back on his own. He much preferred it that way. It was quieter.

He'd been trying to act normal, like nothing was wrong, especially since the war had ended in Europe. He did his best to be happy lest people accuse him of being ungrateful, but he wasn't happy--not truly.

Johnny Simpson was scared.

No one would want to hire a man whose brain didn't work right, and he was slowly but surely running out of the money he'd been given for his service. He'd of course chosen that over college; how could a man who couldn't remember what day it was be successful at university?

No, Johnny couldn't go to college but he couldn't keep living the way he was living either. He'd be out of money soon. He needed a job.

Johnny sunk into his armchair and reached for his pills, downing them quickly. He'd had two more operations since he'd gotten back to the States, but the pain hadn't dissipated. It was constant; morning, noon, and night.

But Johnny tried to be positive: at least he was walking better.

In addition, he'd been playing his drums again. Funny how he still couldn't remember 'Harry's' face or the voice of his friend 'Pete', but he could remember every big band hit from the past decade.

Johnny brushed away that thought and tried to focus on his music; that was the only thing that could distract him.

His hands were flying back and forth, playing some tune that he couldn't quite recognize. Back and forth, over and over.

Knock, knock.

Johnny flinched at the rapping on the door. He didn't know why, but in his mind the polite knocking had turned into loud pounding and angry yells and someone pushing something made of metal into his hands while hissing something in his ear.

And then it was gone.

That was the most frustrating part for him; the almost-but-not-quite remembering. The fragments, the broken shards of memories would be right within his grasp. Just inches away, poking at his mind, and as soon as he'd stretch his fingers out for them they'd escape his reach like dandelion fuzz blowing away in the wind.

It was like trying to catch a hold of wisps of smoke. You knew it was there, but it was impossible to grasp.

Another knock sounded at the door and Johnny leapt up. Sometimes when he got in a state he forgot things like that--just another reason his mother wanted to keep him home with her.

He cautiously moved to open the door, ignoring the paper tacked to it--he'd check that later--and was met with a dark haired man wearing a grin.

"Hey, Johnny," the man said and stuck out his hand. "I'm Donny Novitski."

Johnny glanced down at Donny's hand, then shook it slowly and excitement bubbled up inside of him--the name had struck something in his brain and he felt a memory coming on. Donny Novitski. He knew that name; he was sure of it.. "Do I know you too?"

Donny looked a bit surprised. "Pardon?"

"We know each other don't we? You served in France, right? Marseille?" Johnny closed his eyes and tried to imagine this man in the uniform standing next to him at the base. If he thought hard enough, maybe something would come up...

"Uh, Solomon Islands, actually," Donny responded. "But I heard France was nice, wish I could've been there."

Johnny looked back at him, only a bit disappointed--and very confused--that he'd once again been wrong. "It was fine I guess, I don't remember too much of it."

The something occurred to him. "Wait; if we didn't serve together then how'd you know who I was?"

Donny blinked. "Wayne sent me. He said he told you."

Johnny furrowed his brow and thought it over; did Wayne mention sending someone over? He supposed it was plausible, it sounded like something Wayne had said.

Donny cleared his throat a bit uncomfortably and Johnny invited him inside, realizing that he'd gotten lost in his thoughts again and had left the dark haired man standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Closing the door, he noticed the paper again and pulled it off the door for a better look. He squinted as he tried to make out his messy scrawl.

Monday. 4 o'clock. Donny Nov?(Wayne's friend) visiting. Talk about band?

"Oh!" Johnny exclaimed. "You're Wayne's friend; you're here about a band!"

"Yeah, that's what I was say-" Donny cut himself off. "Yeah, that's right. So, what do you think?"

"Well I haven't thought it over much," Johnny mused. "At least, I don't think I have, but it sounds good to me."

"Really?" Donny grinned.

"Sure, I don't have anything else to do," Johnny smiled. Maybe he could finally make some money to support himself, and do it in a way that kept his mind off of what he couldn't remember.

"That's great!" Donny's face lit up and he excitedly shook Johnny's hand again. "It's happening!"

"Yeah," Johnny nodded. He wasn't quite sure what the man was talking about, but he seemed happy so Johnny played along.

Donny gave Johnny the details about the first rehearsal, then again when Johnny couldn't remember what he'd said, and then once more when Johnny decided it'd be best for him to write it down.

Then Donny left and Johnny was all alone again. But looking at the bright side, he reminded himself that he wouldn't be alone for long.

***
So sorry about the month long wait! I've been going over this time and time again; desperately trying to add something to it because it didn't feel complete.

But after weeks of nothing coming to my mind I decided that it must be complete, otherwise I would've thought of something to add.

So this is it for now. And updates may be even more sporadic than they are now(is that even possible?) because I'm trying to build up a bunch of chapters on my stories.

That's because I have time to write now, but during school weeks I won't. And I won't during NaNoWriMo. So again, sorry,

Luckily this is just a short story and will be over after five or six more chapters.

Thanks for reading!!!
-Anna