I'll Be The Wings (All Time Low Fanfiction)

1. The Emergency

“It’s an emergency!”

(That’s not true. It’s actually a Saturday morning. Nothing is an emergency first thing on a Saturday morning.)

“Lucy was supposed to do it, but she cancelled half an hour ago.”

I groaned, sitting up and rubbing my forehead.

“Couldn’t you do it?” I asked groggily.

Michelle sighed into the phone. “No. I have three classes on this morning already.”

“But it’s my day off!”

“I know, I know. But everyone else is busy. Please!”

I sighed. “...When is it?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you one.”

“You owe me a million,” I said sarcastically, “But seriously, when is it?”

“Nine.”

I had one hour.

“In Room 11,” Michelle added, “Thanks again!”

 

I dragged myself out of bed. I never worked on Saturdays - and regardless of how much I enjoyed my job (I taught kids guitar at a music school), I enjoyed my lazy Saturday mornings just a tiny bit more.

I grumbled about my lack of a Saturday as I got ready - not bothering to do my hair or anything properly, just wrapping it into a messy braid and slapping on some lip gloss. My outfit was casual - skinny jeans and an oversized plaid shirt (that was so old it was going fluffy around the cuffs). Students generally didn’t give a toss what you looked like, and it was definitely too early for me to care.

 

Thames Street School of Music could be found in downtown Baltimore, near the harbour. It was a nice place to work, and I was reasonably good at my job. I’d grown up taking care of my little sister, so I didn’t mind children - some of them I even liked. Most importantly, I loved music, and teaching it to people who felt the same way.

I came in, swearing, at a little bit past nine, and wasted no time in running to Room 11. Being late was never a good first impression.

And then I stopped. Stood dead still.

You see, our doors have windows. Not big windows. But big enough for you to be able to see whoever in the room at a glance.

And there was a god in this room.

Like, seriously.

He was tall, even when he was sitting down you could tell that much. Lean, like was made of skinny limbs and thin bones. His legs stretched out in front of him, denim-clad, with grey boots poking at the end.

His hair was black with a white streak running through it, neat enough to not be sloppy but still messy enough to look like he’d just had sex in the back of someone’s car.

And his face. Oh my God, that man's face.

Slightly tanned skin. A little stubble. Giant eyebrows that hovered over these chocolaty eyes deep enough for you to drown in. And drown I did.

 

But, only for a second. Before I realised that I was already late, and I looked like absolute shit.

I turned around, rustling around in my bag for a compact mirror. Then I was concealing and lipsticking and eyeshadowing until I couldn't hold off going inside anymore.