♧ LACKADAISY (PILOT) ♧

♧ Chapter 1: A Melancholic Morning ♧

Present day, St. Louis, Missouri, 1927.

As the alarm clock rudely rang beside Y/n's disheveled form, she groggily opened her eyes, taking a few moments to shake off the remnants of sleep. With a deep sigh, she forced herself out of bed and made her way to the bathroom to freshen up.

Standing before the mirror, Y/n smoothed down her unruly hair and meticulously splashed water on her face, attempting to reawaken her senses. The day felt heavy with anticipation, not quite like any other typical morning.

Descending the stairs to the comforting aroma of breakfast sizzling on the stove, Y/n's attention was abruptly diverted by the shrill ring of the telephone. Hurriedly, she reached for the receiver, her heart racing with unanswered questions.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice filled with curiosity.

"Ivy here! We need you at the bar, Y/n," came the excited voice of Ivy, her best friend and confidante. Ivy possessed a youthful exuberance and unwavering confidence that served as a constant reminder of the innocence they had both lost.

"Why do you need me there?" Y/n asked, a hint of concern lacing her words.

"Bring your violin, and I'll explain everything once you're at the bar," Ivy replied cryptically.

Surprised by the urgency in Ivy's voice, Y/n hesitated for a moment before agreeing to meet her, promising to finish making breakfast first. Ivy bid her farewell and hung up, leaving Y/n to ponder the mysterious turn of events.

Lost in thought, Y/n failed to notice the acrid scent of burning food wafting from the stove. Hastily, she rescued what was salvageable, begrudgingly accepting that breakfast had been sacrificed in favor of the enigma awaiting her at the bar.

Rushing upstairs to change into suitable attire, Y/n's anxious mind wandered to her younger brother, Luther. Knocking on his bedroom door, she received no response. Tentatively, she pushed the door open to find an empty room.

Descending the stairs once more, Y/n discovered Luther downstairs, silently taking sips from a glass of water. "Good morning," she greeted him warmly, but his response was a melancholic hum that hung heavily in the air.

Concern etched into her features, Y/n questioned Luther about her upcoming return to the bar, perplexed at how he had known before she had even uttered a word. The sight of her violin case beside her must have given him the answer he sought. "How did you know?" she asked, her voice laced with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Luther's gaze met hers, his eyes a reflection of the sorrow that had consumed him since the loss of their parents. "I saw your violin case," he replied simply, a somber tone underscoring his words. Y/n nodded, understanding the depth of her brother's insight.

Silently, they sat together, sharing a meal in dour silence. The atmosphere weighed heavily on them as the remnants of their once jovial conversations hung suspended in the air. Luther's infectious smile, now faded, was a painful reminder of the tragedy that had befallen them.

Luther broke the suffocating silence, his voice filled with a quiet, resigned sadness. "I'll take care of the dishes today," he offered, a small gesture in the face of their shared loss. Y/n smiled gratefully at him, acknowledging his effort to bridge the gap between them.

Before leaving, Y/n stole a glance at the mirror beside the front door, taking a moment to adjust her appearance. She realized that perhaps returning to work at the bar wouldn't be as daunting as she had initially thought. With a final sigh, she bid Luther farewell, receiving a soft hum of acknowledgment from the kitchen in response.

Taking her violin and trusty hat, Y/n left their home, her footsteps echoing along the deserted streets. Unbeknownst to her, a new chapter in her life was about to unfold, each footfall marking the path to rediscovery and the healing power of music.