hiatus : c.t.h.

"impressed"

By nine the next morning, Calum is at his normal spot, leaning against the support of the Millennium Bridge and drawing his guitar from its case carefully, placing it in his lap. As he tunes it, he watches the employees of the museum enter the double doors, just as they do every morning. It's a new day, in theory. But really it isn't.

That thought sparks a note of recognition in his brain, and without really thinking about it, he begins to pick the melody of the first song today, his foot tapping involuntarily on the cold ground.

It's a new day, but it all feels old
It's a good life, that's what I'm told
But everything, it all just feels the same

Good Charlotte. The Anthem. Good song.

It reminded him of Luke.

Everything functioned. Except when he missed his bandmates.

//

Ciara's anxiety was beginning to catch up with her by the time she reached the book market at the normal time. She makes sure to linger over the shelves longer than usual, dragging her curious finger along the spines of the countless pages. She even visits the history section, a place formerly taboo to her. Nonfiction. She shudders.

But even an account of World War II from three different fighter pilots view, practically written in the language of Why Are You Wasting Your Time, was a better option than reaching the Museum. Because she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that all her confidence from last night would disintegrate as soon as he assaulted her with his aggressively relaxed manner and not-quite-but-edging-on snarky attitude.

She had a lot of things, but confidence was not one of them.

In fact, she would go so far as to say it was one of her anti-things.

You're being ridiculous, she reprimands herself, paging distastefully through a biography of some minutely important Parliament member. He's a boy. You know boys. You share a family with one.

Yeah, but Devin wasn't a boy boy. He liked math and science and quiet and order and girls who could name more digits of pi than him. Calum - this uncharted species of boy - wasn't even technically a boy. He was a man. An adult. Twenty years old.

She was an adult, too, to be fair. But the fact remained that he was twenty. And at the fresh-out-of-pre-life age of eighteen, twenty seemed boundless, uncrossable miles away.

With some difficulty for the first time in her life, she ripped herself away from the history books and started towards the Museum, her heart thumping in her throat.

//

Ciara was usually here around one, right after Calum got back from his various lunch break haunts, but it was one thirty now and there was no sign of her. He was getting impatient.

His fingers trip over each other switching chords, and the guitar squeaks in protest when he strums the strings. A woman who was approaching him with change in her hand winces, turning and continuing on her way.

Swearing under his breath, he gets his focus back on the song and soon, the chords sound right again.

But as he draws to a close on this song and prepares to start a new one, the corner of his eye catches sight of brown hair on the edge of the small crowd around him.

He sets the guitar aside and smiles at everyone standing there, raising his voice a little. "Thank you guys so much! I'm gonna take an hour off now, but thanks so much for listening!" He grins when most of the crowd comes forward and drops change into his case, a few shooting him a smile or a kind word. When the people dissipate, he packs his guitar into its case and stands up, hoisting it onto his back.