To Fall in Love With a Musician (boyxboy)

Chapter 1- Osmond

A/N This is by no means perfect. Quite the opposite actually. It's a bit terrible, but it was really fun to write, and while the characters can be very frustrating at times, I love them. Anyways, I know there are plot holes (maybe, I was hoping to fix them all when editing but you kind of forget things when writing a 35 chapter novel) and grammar mistakes that I'll maybe go back to fix later (let's hope so). I don't know if anyone will read this, and if they do, they may not like this, but I got so much joy from writing this that I couldn't care less. Osmond Greyjoy deserved his own story, so I gave it to him. (You don't need to read The Things I Hate About Adrian Vang to understand the story, that's just what comes before this in the story line and where our main character comes from. I'd say I recommend it, but I wrote it so that's just tacky. Just do what you want, really)

4.10.24 Hello All! I'm editing this for the first time in a LONG time to update the age of these characters so it is compliant with some of Wattpad's new rules. That may mean there are some inconsistencies, but I figured we'd rather have an inconsistant story that one that has been removed! Thanks for being understanding! <3 IVY

"It's time, Osmond," His aunt began as she stepped into his room, not bothering to knock and he glared forcefully at his caretaker.

    "What do you want?" He snapped, looking up from the sheet music that was scattered all over his bed, some of it sliding to the floor as he shifted into a sitting position and pulled his earbuds out. It was good to take breaks while composing so he really wasn't that upset with his aunt for interrupting, Osmond was just known as being a typical moody teenager, as his aunt said, and he felt like he needed to upkeep his image just for her. "I'm a little busy". He was always busy with something or other and knew this didn't matter to her. Sighing, he began to massage a cramp out of his dominant hand from writing too much for too long.

    "You weren't in school today," she said, dropping down on the end of the bed, not bothering to move any of his music and just sitting right on it. He cringed, watching all of his beautiful work get wrinkled. It would be easy enough to rewrite it tomorrow; he would just have to skip school again, though then they'd most likely have to have this conversation yet another time.

    "Why do I need to go to school?" He questioned, twirling his pencil between his fingers. "I'm a senior and I already have all the credits I need to graduate". This was true. Osmond had taken, and passed, all of his required courses already. Despite this fact, his aunt was still forcing him to attend his senior year, telling him it would be a good experience even though she knew that Osmond hated Springfield high school and every living soul in it now that his best friend Adrian had graduated.

    "Because you still need to learn things, Osmond".

"You know as well as I do that if I went to school today I would have skipped all my classes and spent the day in the band room. You should be happy I stayed home. There's not a piano here I can practice to prepare for the rest of my life as a poor musician".

"You can't just play the piano for a living," his aunt said immediately. Osmond rolled his eyes and dropped back down against his pillows. He closed his eyes, not wanting to have this stupid conversation again, even though he had been the one to initiate it. "Osmond Greyjoy," she snapped and he winced at the use of his father's last name, which he preferred not to answer to.

    "I know I can't play the piano for a living," he said simply. "That's not what my plan is, anyway".

    "And exactly what is your plan," she asked, sounding amused in a very cruel way.

    "I'm going to write music for the piano and then I'm going to play it". This was actually his goal, hence all of the music surrounding him with his own messy handwriting marking the lines.