☯ Butterflies & Hurricanes// PHAN AU ☯

Chapter 1

A few raindrops splashed onto my face, coming from the grey clouds that loomed above me, so I quickened my pace, rushing through the busy street before reaching the entrance. I double-stepped down the stairs, walking into the tube station. My oyster card was in one hand, my iPhone in the other. Luckily, I had made it in time to catch one of the final trains, since it was 10:43pm according to my phone's clock. A notification had popped up; it was a text from my best friend, Fozzy. Her name wasn't actually Fozzy, of course, it was Aimee Foster, but nobody had ever called her that in.. 5? 6 years?

Fozzy:

hey you around? need 2 talk - F

I typed back, telling her I would be back in 15 minutes. The University Campus wasn't too far from central London, which was quite good for when we were all going out. The machine zapped my card, which I then stuffed back into my coat pocket. A small pair of gates opened, and I walked through the tunnel towards the platform. Tube stations had confused me at first, but as a regular visitor, you get used to them. Talking about that, I haven't introduced myself.

Hey.

I'm Phillip, but my friends call me Phil.

I study art and media at University.

I'm a huge music, movie and TV show buff, so don't be surprised when you find hundreds of posters adorning my pale yellow dorm walls. It was the best way to cover them on a budget, okay?

I was nearing my station until I heard a soft, sweet noise playing from close by. Listening harder, I realised that there was a musician playing the street piano that had been placed in the tunnel. Walking closer to the sound, I managed to figure out the tune. The pleasant notes bounced off the curved ceiling of the tunnel, reminding me of the song.

Butterflies & Hurricanes by Muse.

Turning a corner, I approached the pianist, stopping to watch him. I dared go any closer to the brown-haired boy, just in case I creeped him out. He was wearing all black, and his long fringe was hanging I. front of his eyes. All I could see was the side of his face, but the most fascinating thing about him was how he played. His slender fingers danced across the keys, gliding and pressing all over the piano. It was exquisite. Something about the boy intrigued me, and makes me want to learn everything about the mysterious stranger. His talent echoed through the station, hitting each dirty, tiled wall. The way he played made everything seem special, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what was so amazing about the brown-haired boy. I must have been standing there for a short while, because he had finished the song and was just staring at the ivory keys. My hand dug a couple of silver coins out of my pocket, which were then dropped into the small black hat by his feet. I stepped back, watching the street musician.