SoMa Oneshots

An Unlikely Love Song

Soul had been on the road for months, years maybe, (he wasn't exactly sure). His publicist and manager had managed to keep him as busy as any normal human could possibly be. (And maybe he wasn't so normal).

He sighed pushing his fingers into his temples, slowly working the muscles as a way to combat the nearly blinding headache he had grown. His head buzzing and buzzing from the combination of classical music, stuck up pricks, and overcompensated theater workers. His hands made their way to cover his face, trying to blind it.

His face in his hands, eyes clamped shut tightly, elbows resting on the hood of the grand piano, he sat and just tried to tune the world out of his life.

"Really, it wasn't that bad." Came a voice from just in front of him. He could tell it had been past the piano, waiting a short distance away from him, timid in its shyness. He slowly lifted his head from where it sat between his hands, that wasn't the sound of his manager's voice.

As he looked up, the face of a girl, a gorgeous girl, was staring back at him. He was left breathless by the sheer look of confusion and pride in her joke that she was giving him. Her eyes were the most intensely beautiful thing he had ever seen, the deepest emerald green that can only be found in the darkest of forests. He sat for a while, mesmerized by the sheer force of her beauty.

"Um, excuse me, sir. I didn't mean to insult you." A flash of guilt.

He immediately jumped off of his bench, tipping it over backwards as he stumbled over himself, fumbling around the grand piano and trying to force himself in front of her. In the jumbled mess of all this, he managed to step on his own pantleg, forcing the other knee to lock painfully and bring him to the ground. There he sat, face smashed into the hard wooden floor of the grand stage beneath him, utterly mortified before this drop dead gorgeous young lady. He sighed, it was only the first night here and, with his luck, her dad probably owned the theater. He huffed, pushing himself off the hard ground, trying to regain the composure and confidence he held while performing.

He was stopped suddenly, halfway through getting off the ground, one knee still pushing into the floor. Her voice filled the room with its entrancing laugh, the happiest sound he had ever heard in his entire life. He forced himself the rest of the way up, timidly standing before her.

"Sorry," he hesitantly said. His heart fluttered just standing three feet away from her. He felt bad, being in the presence of such grace and beauty.

"No, really. It's me that should be sorry." She said, voice dropping to a level barely above a whisper. She glared down at her hands, looking as if they were the things that had betrayed her, although he could find absolutely nothing about her that had been offensive to him. Sure she had insulted him, but it hadn't been in a threatening way, she wasn't looking to tear his spirits lower than they already had been. In fact, by some miracle, she had actually raised them.

"Well, I don't believe that to be true, miss. In fact, I believe it to be quite the opposite." He gently placed his hand over the woman's hands.

Now that he was so close to her, he finally noticed the clothes she was wearing. It was obviously she was trying to do her best, a simple dress, stained and torn, with a weathered old shawl crocheted years ago from the look of it. She wasn't the heiress to the theater legacy, she wasn't even the offspring of one of those pricks that were found in his usual crowd. "Miss?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry miss, but if you don't mind, why, may I ask, are you back here? The performance ended a while ago." He tried to catch her gaze, pulling one of her hands from their place intertwined by her waist, messing with the ratty and somewhat old shawl wrapped around her frame. He gently wrapped both his hands around hers.

"To be honest, I'm not quite sure what to do now. I'm sure all of your other fans would be out enjoying a nice dinner at the finest restaurant, but I barely scraped up enough money to enter a lottery for tickets to your show. I guess I thought if you weren't too busy, I could see that you were a person just like me. I could see that I won't be stuck in this situation forever."

"Well," he was left breathless by her answer. He was unsure of what to say if he was to be honest.

Then he heard it. The faint cry of security guards in the distance. "You're not supossed to be back here are you?" A small smile cracked his face, his focused and melancholy mask falling away.

She looked, scared, just a bit, mixed with excitement as she shook her head slightly. Her eyes danced with the thrill of doing something bad, twinkling with no remorse.

"Well then, why don't we get off the stage then?" She smirked with a glittering look of excitement flashing in her eyes. Lord death, this girl was going to be the death of him.

He grabbed her hand pulling her towards his dressing room, it was full of snacks and plush furniture (He was a teenage boy afterall). He knew that his manager would look for her their first, as everyone does, and he would find her there, safe and sound, and with him.

When they reached the small, but lavish room, her eyes lit up, filling instantly with absolute awe. Her face was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen and he was finally content with his life. He flopped down on a plush sofa, gently pulling the slightly disheveled girl down with him. Company was always different from being alone. He wouldn't say it was necessarily nice, but it was different. Somehow, having her with him at this moment, it didn't feel like he was in the presence of 'company' but he also didn't feel completely alone, he was stuck in a limbo between too many and not enough people.

A little ship in the sea of loneliness.

A/N: I believe this one will become a full book.

You know... If you want...

Anyways, thanks for reading.

⚓~Angel Fish