Classic rock one shots and imagines [requests closed]

Bruce Springsteen #2 (part two)

"Just (Y/N)?"

"Yep, just (Y/N)." She replied, taking another bite of cucumber from her plate. "I don't feel like calling myself anything else."

I felt the need to nod, but instead peered down into my coffee.

"Whatcha drinkin'?"

I looked up to (Y/N), who's curious gaze drew creases into her forehead, then I looked back down to the coffee. "An iced americano."

"Ohh," she leant back in her seat. "How'd you get the espresso?"

"I didn't. It's just regular coffee."

(Y/N) pursed her lips in thought, but only for a split second before she said, "You know you can ask the staff for it. Every week they go to town to buy supplies we don't have here."

"How do you know that?"

"How do you not?" She smirked. "Two weeks here and you haven't noticed that Fridays bring newspapers, beauticians, new clothes, fresh meats for the kitchens-"

"I dunno." I shrugged, butting into her list at the breath she took.

"You're very lonely, aren't you?"

I stared at her for a moment, trying to process the sheer forwardness of her question. Her dark eyes glistened with patience and curiosity, which ultimately  broke me into answering her question:

"You could say that..."

"Well, Brucie, I'm here if you need anything."

Brucie. Nobody had called me that in a while. It was strange to hear...

Brucie...

"Alright, then."

"What's your schedule look like?"

"What's today?" I sniffed, and reached into my pocket. "Thursday?"

"Yeah, Thursday."

I unfolded my weekly schedule and handed it to her. Even if memorisation was a strength of mine, I carried my schedule with me just in case. I expected Momo to judge me for it, but she didn't say a word about it.

"You really like exercising, don't you?"

"Force of habit."

"You're funny." She handed my schedule back to me. "Too bad we don't have many activities together. Monday/Wednesday animal care, Tuesday art therapy, and Friday free time. Well, Thursday lunch- obviously."

My eyes skimmed over my schedule as she spoke, and huffed out a breath of laughter. Memory was certainly not an issue for her.

"We can meet at dinner, though. Unless that's weird to you."

"Why would that be weird?"

"You never know how somebody's gonna react." She shrugged, and glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Is that the time? God, this day is dragging."

"You're telling me." I sighed, glancing up at the clock as well.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

I furrowed my eyebrows, hesitantly replying, "no."

"Oh, okay." She brought her knee against her chest to prop her foot up in her chair. She was completely at ease, and not in the way most people in the hostel were. She simply was the epitome of at ease. Then it hit me: she had no idea who I was.