(no subject)
- Title: The Music
- Author: _ohholyfoolsx
- Pairing: Mikey and Frankie
- Rating: R
- Summary: He walked into the music store and started browsing the CDs. Every Friday Mikey saw him and never knew his name, only the way he moved, the way he dressed, the 4 layers of shirts, all thread-bare, and the music he liked. It was always about the music.
- POV: Third Person.
- Authors Note: Written whilst listening to "A perfect Sonnet" by Bright Eyes.
- Disclaimer: AU. Completely and utterly untrue.
Two boys. One old enough to know the difference, another still hopelessly lost in music, trying to grip onto it in hopes of never losing his innocense. One trying to fit in, trying to make it seem as though he's not completely alone, the other lost in the crowd, wanting to escape, wanting to get out of the life, wanting to escape all the things he'd even known was right. Just two boys. Similarly caught up in themselves.
He climbed out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trickling off his slick body and onto the cold tiled floor. He gently scrubed a towel over himself to catch the rest of the warm water before picked up his shirt, still wrinkled from his night. The search for a newer one long over, he slid his arms into the sleeves and buttoned it up quickly before pulling his checkered red tie around his neck loosely. The pants and underwear he put on next were the same ones he'd worn yesterday, but it didn't matter. He twitched the curtain back from the bathroom window and sees cars going by. The sun is still rising from behind the thicket of trees across the street. If he walked through all those trees, would he be any close to the sun? He knows he wouldn't be, but the illusion of it is beautiful. With a final sigh, he places his glasses on his nose and slips out the door of the bathroom.
The floor is cold and he realizes he didn't turn on the heat last night. Sauntering into the kitchen, he sees steam rising from the tea kettle still plugged in from the previous night. He smiles, knowing it's his flaw to leave things on when he's not around. Walking away from something, leaving it unattended and having it bloom into catastrophe; it's all happened on occasion and he seems to have a knack for it. Gently, he turns it off and pours himself a cup, happily thinking what good fortune it is that it was left on or he wouldn't have anything to drink before work.
Sipping the warm green tea quietly, he notices his bass guitar sitting on the floor surrounded by his papers from the previous night; he remembers spending all night working on a new song and only coming up with a few bars before he noticed the digital clock blinking midnight at him. Deciding it was going to be an early morning as it was, he had gone to bed shortly after, leaving the work out on the floor.
With a sigh he gulped down the rest of the tea, slipped on a pair of old ratty socks laying in the clean clothing hamper and picked up his bookbag, shoving whatever was close into it; his cell phone, his wallet, a notebook with some music written in it, is glass's case, a pen, half a sandwich William had wrapped and an apple. As he slips on his worn shoes and grabs his mittens, he takes one final sweep of the living room and finds his had wegded in between the accoustic guitar stand and the wall.
He steps out the door, feeling the freezing air attack his uncovered face and begins his walk to work.
He pulls open the door and hears the small bell ring alerting the attendent someone was there. He smiles at the customers milling over the racks and walks to the back room, setting his bag on the floor in the open office, glad no one is in there so he has time alone before his shift. He notices another pile of things next to his; most likely Bob's if you were to tell by the coat. He's worked here enough to know what belonged to who so it wasn't much of a shock when Bob entered the room and claimed his things. Bob mumbled a greeting to him and exited, closing the door and allowing him the time alone he had sought after. He opens his weathered backpack and riffles through it, coming across his notebook and pen while humming a tune he was hearing on the stores speakers. Bob had obviously made the choice in music: Bright Eyes.
He worked for a little while until he saw the start of his shift and tighted his tie, anticipating the lifeless teens wandering the sections, the jumpy girls giggling over the newest teenage hearttrobs' album and the old weather-beaten women asking where the Christian section was, please. Bob gave him a little gesture towards the counter as he left the office. He wandered over there, taking his mundane place behind it and watching the steady flow of kids coming in and out. He made small talk with them, but ultimately was waiting for Bert to start his shift and releave him of counter duty, leaving him to wander the ailes and change that depressing teen-angst music.
Bob wandered over after he had finished ringing in a new Green Day DVD for this girl. "Hey, Mikes." he said, leaning forward and playing with the debit machine. "I see you're not so excited to be here today." Mikey shrugged, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
"Just had a late night. I've been busy with some stuff and with William just getting back, it's been weird to have someone else around." he shrugged again. "Are we still on that bet?"
Bob nodded. "I still think I can beat you."
Mikey chuckled. "We'll see."
Since they first started working here, Bob and Mikey had had a bet with each other; try to stereotype each person and see how well their music matched their looks and to find the best contrast between music purchase and fashion sense. So far Mikey was winning with 78 year-old woman purchasing the newest Coalesce CD. Bob, being just that inquisitive, had asked what she liked about it and she had responded with "ohhh, my grandson just loves them! He's such an artist. He drew this gorgeous 5 leaved plant one day. Oh my, I'd do anything for him." Right then Bob knew he had a challenge ahead of him.
Bob nudged Mikey gently, shaking him out of his reverie. "There's that guy again." he whispered to Mikey while ringing in the Desaparecidos's CD they'd just started carrying. Mikey looked at him curiously, scanning the rows of CDs before his eyes locating the same guy they'd seen in there every Friday around this time. Mikey's breath caught in his throat.
He was gorgeous. His hazel eyes reflected the depths of the forest, glittering green and chestnut with flecks of red and orange. He gently bit at the shiney metallic ring through his lip, off to the side, as he flipped over a CD and read the back of it. The patch of longish black hair behind his ear fell into his eyes and he swiftly caught it and returned it to it's place before setting the CD back in it's place with the others. He began walking again, turning towards the 'R' section and picking up another CD, reading it over and over again, fiddling with his pink belt around his slim waist and tight fitting jeans. Mikey would have guessed he was wearing 3 or 4 layers of shirts, each as faded and worn as the next. After a moment, Mikey released the breath he'd been holding and sighed, never taking his eyes off of him.
Someone in front of him cleared their voice and Mikey jumped, immediately grasping the disk they were holding and collecting the money. When he looked back up, the guy was gone.
"Oh well," Bob sighed. "Adieu, stranger. See you next Friday." and with that he left to write up the new price list in the office. Mikey stared at the exit of the store for a moment before sighing and putting a receit in the bag.
- Author: _ohholyfoolsx
- Pairing: Mikey and Frankie
- Rating: R
- Summary: He walked into the music store and started browsing the CDs. Every Friday Mikey saw him and never knew his name, only the way he moved, the way he dressed, the 4 layers of shirts, all thread-bare, and the music he liked. It was always about the music.
- POV: Third Person.
- Authors Note: Written whilst listening to "A perfect Sonnet" by Bright Eyes.
- Disclaimer: AU. Completely and utterly untrue.
Two boys. One old enough to know the difference, another still hopelessly lost in music, trying to grip onto it in hopes of never losing his innocense. One trying to fit in, trying to make it seem as though he's not completely alone, the other lost in the crowd, wanting to escape, wanting to get out of the life, wanting to escape all the things he'd even known was right. Just two boys. Similarly caught up in themselves.
He climbed out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trickling off his slick body and onto the cold tiled floor. He gently scrubed a towel over himself to catch the rest of the warm water before picked up his shirt, still wrinkled from his night. The search for a newer one long over, he slid his arms into the sleeves and buttoned it up quickly before pulling his checkered red tie around his neck loosely. The pants and underwear he put on next were the same ones he'd worn yesterday, but it didn't matter. He twitched the curtain back from the bathroom window and sees cars going by. The sun is still rising from behind the thicket of trees across the street. If he walked through all those trees, would he be any close to the sun? He knows he wouldn't be, but the illusion of it is beautiful. With a final sigh, he places his glasses on his nose and slips out the door of the bathroom.
The floor is cold and he realizes he didn't turn on the heat last night. Sauntering into the kitchen, he sees steam rising from the tea kettle still plugged in from the previous night. He smiles, knowing it's his flaw to leave things on when he's not around. Walking away from something, leaving it unattended and having it bloom into catastrophe; it's all happened on occasion and he seems to have a knack for it. Gently, he turns it off and pours himself a cup, happily thinking what good fortune it is that it was left on or he wouldn't have anything to drink before work.
Sipping the warm green tea quietly, he notices his bass guitar sitting on the floor surrounded by his papers from the previous night; he remembers spending all night working on a new song and only coming up with a few bars before he noticed the digital clock blinking midnight at him. Deciding it was going to be an early morning as it was, he had gone to bed shortly after, leaving the work out on the floor.
With a sigh he gulped down the rest of the tea, slipped on a pair of old ratty socks laying in the clean clothing hamper and picked up his bookbag, shoving whatever was close into it; his cell phone, his wallet, a notebook with some music written in it, is glass's case, a pen, half a sandwich William had wrapped and an apple. As he slips on his worn shoes and grabs his mittens, he takes one final sweep of the living room and finds his had wegded in between the accoustic guitar stand and the wall.
He steps out the door, feeling the freezing air attack his uncovered face and begins his walk to work.
He pulls open the door and hears the small bell ring alerting the attendent someone was there. He smiles at the customers milling over the racks and walks to the back room, setting his bag on the floor in the open office, glad no one is in there so he has time alone before his shift. He notices another pile of things next to his; most likely Bob's if you were to tell by the coat. He's worked here enough to know what belonged to who so it wasn't much of a shock when Bob entered the room and claimed his things. Bob mumbled a greeting to him and exited, closing the door and allowing him the time alone he had sought after. He opens his weathered backpack and riffles through it, coming across his notebook and pen while humming a tune he was hearing on the stores speakers. Bob had obviously made the choice in music: Bright Eyes.
He worked for a little while until he saw the start of his shift and tighted his tie, anticipating the lifeless teens wandering the sections, the jumpy girls giggling over the newest teenage hearttrobs' album and the old weather-beaten women asking where the Christian section was, please. Bob gave him a little gesture towards the counter as he left the office. He wandered over there, taking his mundane place behind it and watching the steady flow of kids coming in and out. He made small talk with them, but ultimately was waiting for Bert to start his shift and releave him of counter duty, leaving him to wander the ailes and change that depressing teen-angst music.
Bob wandered over after he had finished ringing in a new Green Day DVD for this girl. "Hey, Mikes." he said, leaning forward and playing with the debit machine. "I see you're not so excited to be here today." Mikey shrugged, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
"Just had a late night. I've been busy with some stuff and with William just getting back, it's been weird to have someone else around." he shrugged again. "Are we still on that bet?"
Bob nodded. "I still think I can beat you."
Mikey chuckled. "We'll see."
Since they first started working here, Bob and Mikey had had a bet with each other; try to stereotype each person and see how well their music matched their looks and to find the best contrast between music purchase and fashion sense. So far Mikey was winning with 78 year-old woman purchasing the newest Coalesce CD. Bob, being just that inquisitive, had asked what she liked about it and she had responded with "ohhh, my grandson just loves them! He's such an artist. He drew this gorgeous 5 leaved plant one day. Oh my, I'd do anything for him." Right then Bob knew he had a challenge ahead of him.
Bob nudged Mikey gently, shaking him out of his reverie. "There's that guy again." he whispered to Mikey while ringing in the Desaparecidos's CD they'd just started carrying. Mikey looked at him curiously, scanning the rows of CDs before his eyes locating the same guy they'd seen in there every Friday around this time. Mikey's breath caught in his throat.
He was gorgeous. His hazel eyes reflected the depths of the forest, glittering green and chestnut with flecks of red and orange. He gently bit at the shiney metallic ring through his lip, off to the side, as he flipped over a CD and read the back of it. The patch of longish black hair behind his ear fell into his eyes and he swiftly caught it and returned it to it's place before setting the CD back in it's place with the others. He began walking again, turning towards the 'R' section and picking up another CD, reading it over and over again, fiddling with his pink belt around his slim waist and tight fitting jeans. Mikey would have guessed he was wearing 3 or 4 layers of shirts, each as faded and worn as the next. After a moment, Mikey released the breath he'd been holding and sighed, never taking his eyes off of him.
Someone in front of him cleared their voice and Mikey jumped, immediately grasping the disk they were holding and collecting the money. When he looked back up, the guy was gone.
"Oh well," Bob sighed. "Adieu, stranger. See you next Friday." and with that he left to write up the new price list in the office. Mikey stared at the exit of the store for a moment before sighing and putting a receit in the bag.