"I do know my way around a guitar and I'll try my best not to break it," you say. A part of you is surely annoyed at his coldness, but you don't lose sight of the goal. When he doesn't reply, you shrug, "it's okay. If you change your mind, let me know - and if you do know how to play well -" you remark in a lightly challenging way, "you can play for me."
With that, you sit back and resume your regular cross-legged pose. You didn't get where you were in life without changing a thousand no's into yes's. This may or may not work, but the way he stares at you for a good while before getting into a conversation with his translator tells you that you at least made an impression.
Playing songs to lift up everyone's spirits wasn't your only idea to help the situation, so you leave your seat for a few minutes and return with one more person in tow.
"Everyone -", you address your side of the people, "meet Ellen. She's going to be babysitting us for a while!"
"I take my job very seriously," Ellen proclaims in her baby voice, making all of you go aww and laugh.
Across you, the crimped hair guy is beginning to feel conflicted. Volunteering to take care of the officer's kid in the middle of a crisis - this is no PR stunt. It's a real responsibility. Maybe you aren't that big a snob.
He takes out an ancient-looking guitar and starts to tune the thing. It makes you glance at him. He hasn't said anything, so you turn your attention back to Ellen, who has seated herself comfortably in your lap.
"Do you like music, Ellen?"
"Yes. I like music. I - I like - Miley!" she giggles and claps her hands.
"Wow - I like her too!" you respond with equal enthusiasm.
She points at the guitar, "can we sing songs? Our Miss - she makes us sing songs in class!"
You look at him, and he looks back at you.
"Um -", you return Ellen's eager face, "what song do you want to sing?"
"Miley's songs!" she says happily.
"Okay - but you've got to sing with me, okay?"
She nods in agreement. You glance at the chestnut-haired guy one final time.
"Key?" he asks.
"C," you say, and clear your throat before you begin to sing.
I can almost see it
That dream I'm dreaming
But, there's a voice inside my head's saying
You'll never reach it...
The Climb. It's one of the songs that inspired you to start writing songs yourself.
Your voice is soft, yet deep. You're not too loud, but people around you have begun to take notice and quieten down. You're surprised at how well little Ellen is able to sing. She keeps up with you - and at five - that means she's a natural.
The entire hall is dotted with firefly-like electric lamps. The scene goes from chaotic to magical in a span of seconds. You're oblivious to the way the rude guy is observing you still - the passion with which you sing, and the gentle manner in which you're bonding with the little kid.
You catch a pair of brown girls pointing at you excitedly. You wave at them. They squeal, "It's Y/N, it really is her!"
The guitar plays perfectly.
Every step I'm taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking...
A few people have started to sing along with you - including the girls who recognized you. A few more call out your name but you can't see them. You raise your voice, in perfect control.
But I, I gotta keep trying
Gotta keep my head held high
Ellen misses the words now, but she claps encouragingly so you continue singing. More people join in the chorus.
There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb
Some are clapping along to the beat while others are waving their electric lamps. The storm rages outside, but here, it's suddenly light. You go on to sing a few more songs, some on Ellen's request, some on other people's requests. A girl in the crowd yells, "sing Pink Diamonds! PLEASE!"
You laugh, immensely pleased to hear someone request your own song. You're only beginning to break into the American charts. Pink Diamonds is not exactly a guitar song, but you go for a certain section of it anyway, keenly listening to how many sing along.
"You're all gems, thank you so much for joining in with us!" You address the crowd happily. A series of cheers greet your words.
"What's your name, honey?" An old lady screeches at you.
"Oh, I'm Y/N, this my bandmate, Ellen," you pause while she waves at her cheering fans, "and on the guitar we have -," you turn to the guy expectantly, but he stares back at you without answering. So, you continue anyway, "- on the guitar, we have - um - a really shy fellow traveler, everyone. Let's just put our hands together for all the officers helping us out here," there are cheers and hoots, "let's follow their instructions and let's be patient. We're gonna make it. Okay - I will shut up now, thank you." Some people laugh.
You squint at the masked guy. Someone raises their light and for a few seconds, he is illuminated - time slows for you. The dark suit glistens in the lamplight. His proud eyebrows frame eyes that are resting on you. His ears are pierced but presently bare. The guitar - you wonder if it's vintage - maybe that's why he is so possessive about it.
YOU ARE READING
Pop Star || Yoongi x Reader
Fanfiction[Short Chapters] Being a pop star means you've got to be on your best behaviour at all times. But what happens when you end up dissing Kpop in front of the biggest Kpop stars in history? Suga thinks you're fickle when he first meets you - though it...
