Guns and Cigarettes [Levi/Rivaille x OC]

Chapter 2: The 'Starving Muso'

By tomorrow we'll be swimming with the fishes

Leave our troubles in the sand

My skin tingled to the not yet mastered feeling of all their attentive expectant eyes varnishing over me, but a few deep breaths and some mental self-counselling was enough to fight them off as my lilt rang in the cold atmosphere to the lyrics. And hey, enjoy your temporary free spotlight before a cop decides to barge in and handcuff you.

By tomorrow we'll be lost amongst the leaves,

In a wind that chills the skeletons of trees,

I managed to flash in a little smile of gratitude at the sound of coins clattering into the wooden guitar case, my eyes following behind some of the passers who gave me a quick three second glance and a respectful grin, or some with just hollow windows towards an empty soul. The numbness had already kicked aside the burning pain as they claimed their place at the tips of my calloused fingers, but my smile was forever burnt onto my face for the sake of the leafy greens and the rattling of silver coins.

Don't bring tomorrow

'cause I already know

I'll lose you

The low buzzing of the steel guitar strings echoed like invisible fingers clawing out to the eardrums of the public. They all listened considerately like obedient little grade schoolers, even though the crowd consisted many of going home suit-wearers or other rival musicians who battled for a corner of their own on these littered streets.

Feet tappers, the pickers of the underlying beat.

It was just another time of the blood-freezing night where people would gather and listen to me fingerpick my old guitar in the middle of the jungle of glowing skyscrapers, no fancy Gibson Les Pauls or Fender Mustangs, and throw in lyrics by this same corner.

I couldn't give half my ass if they labelled me as another 'starving muso' who was left dying on the cruel uncompassionate streets reeked with the smell of weed and last week's blood. It was better than the useless shit school tried to stuff down my throat that I wasn't going to use in the next fifty years, or let's be more accurate, never.

They say school was the prime place you collect memories, but all I saw was just freshmen getting bashed and every school rule hung on the walls broken. Literally too. I will raise my hand up and admit that I have broken several rules myself, like the no swearing one. Obviously.

The coins they threw in didn't add up to much, maybe earn me a few two minute cup noodles for dinner, but nothing else. Not even extra change for melon bread. Nevertheless, this had to be the favourite time of the day. At least for me it is.

My eyes elevated up from the pile of change as the last note resonated in an ever-so-perfect way, my fingers slowly withdrawing from the vibrating strings. The sound of clapping and praise emerged from the once silent audience, making my trying-to-be-humble tight lips quiver a little. A small white cloud escaped from my parted lips, slowly dispersing out into the air like a bunch of kids sprinting off at the heavenly sound of the school bell, signalling the end of another pointless day.

There and then, I met him again.

The same loose tie hung from his white shirt, only this time a thick dark coat was thrown over him in a scruffy manner.

And those dark, dark eyes. Metallic. Bottomless.

Staring at me from within the crowd.

Just another starving muso, huh?