Work Text:
The cold post-winter air flows through the streets of London. The streets aren't as busy as it was during Christmas, and the vendors aren't in the same spots anymore — so Vertin has to make her way around multiple street corners just to find her favorite caramel waffles.
The sidewalks were devoid of people, the chatter was quiet, so of course something as bright as blonde hair would stand out to her.
She stops for a moment, thinking about what to do — then remembering the half eaten steamed bun she left in one of her bag pockets.
As naturally as possible, she walks up to the blonde haired girl. Realizing too late that she looked too normal to… eh… well,
“Hey are you… alright?” She says awkwardly, “hungry?”
The girl looks up at her, putting the shades back on her eyes as she puts down the pliers.
She scoffs, “So you take me for a homeless person, is that it?” The girl’s face was offended, obviously. Though more than that, she was shocked that Vertin didn't recognize her…
Not that she knows Vertin but…
“Oh so just because I'm not wearing my stupid uniform I'm suddenly homeless… jeez, man. I have a mild relationship with my parents but they have a knack for controlling people, don't think they'd do that to me.”
Vertin steps back a little, caught off guard. “Am I supposed to know your parents…?”
“Huh?”
Vertin takes a close look at her, the not so homeless girl lets her, feeling that this unidentified girl with half a steamed bun is getting warmer. Well, she isn't, she's just looking even if she has no idea who she is.
“No, seriously, am I?”
Regulus steps back a little, looking at the girl holding a small steamed bun awkwardly in two hands.
“You’re funny. I like that.”
“Most people would say otherwise, but thanks.”
This girl has piqued this homeless girls’ interest far more than the other can imagine. Well, although this girl is far from homeless, she'll take what she can get if it means meeting an interesting stranger. She looks at the other girl, smiling, analyzing her every movement like she was taught to do.
“Regulus.” She offers her hand, only for the other to hesitate to shake it. “My name is Regulus.” Vertin shakes her hand, finally, and after a few moments of silence — she fails to keep her mouth shut.
“Just like the stars.” Vertin says, almost unbelievably. There was something about this girl that just felt like the epitome of fame to her — yet instead, this girl was on the sidewalk fixing her guitar strings in cold air, with no care for the world.
Regulus scoffs, it’s not the first time she's heard that, it’s just the first time that someones ever said it so endearingly. It's alien to her, and it's jarring — for so much tenderness to come out of a strangers mouth. Contrary to her parents, perhaps this is the most tender in years.
It's music, just as much as anything they’ve ever heard.
—
Their meetings don't end there, perhaps, it should have. However, it didn't. Moreover, it wouldn't have; they started seeking each other out. The sidewalks got livelier with chatter over time, and more vendors came to have their sell — yet the locks of blonde hair waving at her from a distance are unmistakable.
It's already been more than a few weeks since they’ve officially become friends; talking, hanging out, and laughing together. Skipping school for each other was the norm for them.
Today was like any other day, Regulus had once again skipped class to see her, and Vertin had done the same. Little is still known about Regulus, but many were asked about Vertin. It's just that, curiosity can't be contained — and today was the day Vertin decided to ask questions.
“Regulus.” She says, almost relieved to see her.
“Vertin..” She sighs, this was the day that Vertin was going to Regulus’ home. Regulus had been in hers before, so Vertin requested the same of her. It's just that… the girl was worried. Possibly, rightfully so. Although her parents would not be home, she was worried of what Vertin would have, might've, could have thought if they were there; or perhaps the whiplash she’d recieve from walking into an almost concerto-hall like building for a house.
“Come on, mate. Let’s get going…”
“Excited?” Vertin humor.
“Hardly.” Regulus laughs, rolling her eyes.
When they walk in, Vertin looks at the place in awe. It's almost like she understands why Regulus is so captivating. Growing up in a place like this… where sparkles and shimmers are the norm; it’s foreign to her.
Regulus brings them up to the floor where no one ever goes; because it's where she resides — and she’s never ‘home’. She lets Vertin sit on the couch, the view befitting of her. Almost like a representation of Regulus’ calmer self. Although the street’s were bustling, and the cars were loud — she could be no doubtedly spotted even if she were in a crowd of people.
“Didn't expect this?” Regulus says, that cheeky laugh echoing throughout the room. She clears her throat, “I forget… this place is just an echo chamber.”
“I think I didnt, but I understand. You were an enigma to me. Now it's all clear.” Vertin says, just looking out the window, at the cars that pass by — then to the sun, beside her. “Let it echo.”
“But doesnt it get annoying hearing your own voice travel through the halls? Through empty, empty, desolate halls?!”
“It's no longer just your voice.” Vertin says, still looking off at a distance, avoiding Regulus — just because she knows Regulus would break if she saw her eyes; mist stained, perhaps all the stories of Regulus’ neglected past would catch up to her. She can't let that happen. “Am I not part of your symphony?”
Regulus laughs, hearty, so joyous — merry. This is the era where someone begins to understand. The daughter of all time famous classical musicians, locked in a prison they’ve built for themselves. Don't her parents ever think humbly? She wishes things were simpler, and now they are, now with the addition of a second voice — her own no longer needing to repeat itself. That’s because it bounces, they bounce off of each other in a delightful tune of company.
“You may be so.” Regulus stands up, reciting a few words to herself, then declaring out loud. “Give me some music: music, moody food — of us that trade in love!”
“You’re as much of an intellectual as the people your parents make you interact with.” Vertin humors. “I feel as though anybody meeting you would be surprised to see this side of you.”
Regulus laughs, sitting down beside her, finally — looking her in the eye before she rests her forehead on top of hers. “Well, it is still me, music takes inspiration from many things. Even if my passion is rock — I can't deny that the strings from classical guitars and instruments did not play a big part in what rock is today, yes?”
She stands up, once again. Vertin only looked at her with the wonder of a child. This is far from her element, but perhaps — it suits her well. From the way she plays, to the way she speaks, all woven within the way she was raised; rather lack thereof. She was left to herself, and this is the story; the wondrous tale that came of it.
“Well, to reply — I was forced to be, for the looks. An intellectual depends on the field, surprisingly I do well in both the lies and the truths, though still — both special to my heart.” She fills in the silence with a quick giggle. “I think with my heart, and feel with my head, only my ears can tell me the mood and my eyes merely perceive color to create the sounds I do not hear!”
She laughs, and laughs — Vertin follows, and has to ask.
“What’s so funny, Regulus?”
“Nothing much, it’s just that rock is the universe to me, and now, something else is in orbit.”
“Like what?”
“Perhaps, you.”
This line echoes throughout the room, bright — almost unreal to Vertins ears. It’s music, just as anything they’ve heard before. However, an entirely new composition is playing, and you’ve no choice but to listen.
—
Holidays are over, and the streets are as busy as it was before, during, and after. Vertin doesn't fail to spot the hand waving at her from afar, so she rushes over to her — waffles in a paper bag, ready to share.
It’s been a few more weeks, and now it's the new year. They still haven't lost sight of each other, even seeing each other more now.
“I see you’re still willing to share your food to a homeless person.”
“Homeless? It’s almost as if you live with me now.”
Regulus laughs at that statement — early February and now much has changed. From hardly going out with someone, to frequently visiting Vertins house.
“Eugh… people are selling chocolates now, can you believe it?”
“Bitter, much?”
Regulus slaps Vertins arm, and says “It's not like you have a Valentine, though.”
“Do you want me to have one?”
“Why would that be up to me?”
“Because you’re clutching my uniform like you don't want to let me go.”
Regulus realizes, but only tightens the grip. “I guess it is up to me. Don't worry, this star will take you out on a date!”
“And who said I'm going?”
“I did.”
They laugh, and perhaps this back and forth — this comfort, was the only music they needed.