Background Noise [HS]

TWO

Little did Violet know that Harry would miraculously make a reappearance in her life, and on his own accord. She drifted between the sections 'X' and 'Y' of the CD section when the bell above the door sounded, making his entry known. Naturally, she paid little attention to the trivial little silver bell. This time wasn't to be any different. She kept to herself, walking back and forth, putting various albums back on the shelves. Her long, skinny fingers skimmed across the spines of them, searching for any in particular that stuck out of place.

Footsteps were heavy along the tile floor somewhere off to her right. They acted as background noise to her work, nearly moving in time with the beat of the song that played quietly throughout the speakers scattered across the room, hanging in every corner. It was not until the song faded out and she heard a deep, raspy voice break through the silence that she lifted her head in recognition.

At the counter stood a man, guitar hanging loosely off his back. The sad slope of his shoulders was familiar, and at this she cocked her head slightly to the side, watching with attentive eyes and pursed lips. Her feet subconsciously carried her closer to the conversation, hands absentmindedly brushing along the stack of vinyl records that sported a thin layer of dust, what with their old age. She rolled the pads of her fingers together and let the soot fall like sand to the floor.

"In for a restringing?" Nate, the counter attendee, asked the man. Her coworker's appearance came off as friendly and accommodating, but Harry did little to reflect his positive and cheerful aura. He merely nodded his head before lifting the guitar from its position around his back. The click of the case as it was opened to reveal the gleaming instrument was audible in the quiet room. It seemed to mean a great deal to him—she could see it in the way the guitar was cautiously passed from one pair of hands to another.

"Alright, you can take a seat in the waiting area over there," Nate said, pointing. Harry's gaze trailed his, unimpressed. "We'll have her right out in a few minutes sounding good as new."

Violet's spunky coworker nodded happily in parting before turning and heading towards the back room. A green, watchful gaze shadowed his lanky figure the entire way. Harry thought little of the teenager that carried his prized possession down the long expanse of hallway. Nate had shaggy brown hair that swooped from his forehead and fell messy along the sides. His walk was a bit gawky, looked dorky paired with his pale complexion. It tempted the daunting male stood at the counter to scoff before turning around and heading in the direction of the black leather couch positioned below the row of framed vinyl records.

Violet suddenly felt out of place standing there all alone.

Her gaze remained solely on her feet as she returned to her line of duty, quickly going back to organizing the shelves in an effort to look busy. Finding several albums out of place, she rolled her eyes and collected each one in her hands. Now with an excuse to walk over to section 'K', she allowed her eyes to wander beyond the rows of shelves. They immediately focused on the slumped figure that sat across the room, head lolled back, eyes cast towards the ceiling.

Something about him rang a bell, and not just the one hanging over the front door.

The structure of his jawline stuck out against the bright lights, sharp and angular in forming the point of his chin. She watched the jut of his neck bob as he swallowed. His mere presence in the music shop commanded her full attention, as if a spotlight had been on him the moment he walked in. He looked out of place striding in with his hair pulled back in a bun, faded jeans clung to the lankiness of his long legs. Those legs, she thought. Violet's curious traveled down and caught sight of his tattered boots.

Her breath hitched in realization.

Memories played out like a movie before her, the scenes cutting quickly from one to the next. An eerie, morose spotlight illuminating a mop of curls sat in the center of a small stage. Particles of dust floating in and out of the beam of light, falling around the singer like snow. The boy who entranced her from the very moment she laid eyes on him was here. Away from the throng of girls that swarmed him, away from the toxic atmosphere of the club and everything it stood for.