Fan Fiction ❯ In The Mirror ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

AN: This is actually a redone version of chapter one. Thanks to the people on the megatokyo.com creative writing forum, I've been able to fix it up a bit

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Those empty hazel eyes stare back at me, straight into my soul, and I can't look away. So haunting. Tears perch on the ledge beneath them, and I feel my throat tighten. Those eyes beg me to help. To do something to ease the pain.

Sighing, I turn away from the mirror, dabbing my eyes with my shirtsleeve. It's another day, and all I have to do is make it through. Just today. Worry about tomorrow when it comes. It's a great philosophy, but putting it into practice is another matter.

I complete the rest of my morning routine by rote, keeping my eyes from the expanse of shining glass hovering above the sink. Put on deodorant, get dressed, brush my teeth, comb my hair… It's amazing how much I can get done without really thinking about it. Suddenly, I find myself choking down warmed-up, day-old coffee and a piece of toast as I walk out the front door, locking it behind me. My "office" is only 4 stops away on the city's light rail system.

It's a modest recording studio. We don't usually get anyone that's incredibly famous, just bands and solo artists that are starting out, needing to get their foot in the door with that first album. I got a Bachelor's degree in Music Education, and my job is to make sure the equalization is okay.

I sigh and flop down into my nice, worn-in chair and light up a cigarette. Taking a long, reverent drag, I go over the day's schedule, making sure I haven't forgotten anything. I run a hand through my shaggy hair. It's getting long, going over the tops of my ears a little, not wanting to stay out of my left eye. The studio door's buzzer derails my train of thought. Looks like the band's here early. I quickly put out my cigarette and run to the door, opening it.

My capability for speech may be impaired for a few minutes. He's standing there, leaning on the doorframe; guitar strapped to his back, spiky dyed black hair… Damn, he's hot… Those steel colored eyes stare down into my almost amber ones. But where have I seen that look before?

"You gonna let me in, kid?" His rock-star raspy baritone jerks me back into the land of the lucid. I can't do anything but sputter as he pushes past me. I move to the side to let the rest of his band through, but find that no one else is accompanying him.

Oh, there's my voice… "I'm not a kid." It doesn't help that my voice sounds like that of a 14 year old. "Where's your band?"

He chuckles. "C'mon kid, where're your parents? And why aren't you in school? It's Tuesday…"

I shoot him my best go-to-hell look. "I'm 24. I'm one of the sound technicians. My co-worker should be here in about 10 minutes. Now quit jerking me around, where's your band and producer?"

Blinking, he gives me a good once-over, and I feel a slight blush tint my cheeks. Then he shakes his head, a lopsided smirk twisting his mouth as he lets out a snort. "Whatever you say, kid. They'll be here soon. Just show me where to set up."

Muttering "bastard" as I walk by, I lead him into the studio, pointing out where to hook up his guitar. I've got nothing better to do, so I start in on the cabling, changing the feeds from yesterday's recording session. "Why did you come early," I ask him, curious.

He shrugs as he pulls the guitar from his gig bag. "I needed to go over a few riffs on my own before the recording starts. What's it to you, kid?"

What an asshole. "Would you please stop calling me that," I say in the most polite voice I can muster.

He digs a few picks out of his pocket. "Sure." I don't think he could possibly have been more non-committal.

He flicks the switch on the amp, a confused expression masking his face as nothing happens. "Hey, sport, you mind plugging this amp in?"

I wonder if I'd get fired for shoving his guitar somewhere unpleasant. Nonetheless, I kneel next to him, reaching for the plug, pushing it into the outlet that was just out of his reach. Everything stops though, when I feel someone grab my chin, softly tipping my head up. Those steel eyes are maybe two inches away, staring straight into mine, making my breath hitch in my throat and my cheeks blaze pink.

It seems like an hour's gone by, but in reality it's only been about ten seconds when he breaks the silence. "You're right. I shouldn't judge your age by your body. It's right here in your eyes how old you are." I can feel his breath against my lips. What the hell is going on here?!

"Wh… Wha…" Okay, so my voice is totally useless.

BUZZZZ!!!

"SHIT!" That damn door buzzer… I've fallen on my ass amidst the cords and microphone stands. As I scramble to my feet to go answer the door, he turns, tuning his guitar like nothing happened at all.