ACE [N.H]

01

London. Finally.

The train rumbles to a halt, and as soon as the doors slide open, I'm off, heart pounding in anticipation. The buzz of excitement is overwhelming, but I force myself to focus on finding a cab, checking my bags, the familiar rush of the city enveloping me. I'm finally out of Edinburgh. It's only a few hours' ride, but it feels like an eternity. For as long as I can remember, London was the dream. And today, that dream is finally real.

The cab ride to the pub is short, but every second stretches on forever. It's been months since I saw Louis, and I can't wait to catch up. It's strange not having to lug around a heavy suitcase. I left most of it behind, planning to visit home often, but I'd still packed just enough to feel like I was bringing a piece of my old life with me.

When I finally step into the pub, I'm greeted by the familiar hum of rock music drifting through the air, the chatter of voices blending with the clink of glasses. I spot Louis behind the bar and make my way toward him, excitement running through my veins. It takes a moment for him to notice me, but when he does, his face lights up. A beat passes before he pulls me into a tight hug, and I can't help but smile.

"I've missed you," Louis says, pulling away just enough to look me in the eye. "How was the trip down? Hopefully not too bad?"

I grin, still catching my breath from the excitement of being here. "It was fine. Missed you too. I can't believe I'm actually here!" I can barely contain myself as I take a seat at the bar, our conversation picking up right where we left off.

Louis leans over the counter to grab a cup, filling it with water before sliding it across to me. "I know. I've been waiting for this for so long," he says, and I know what he means—though for me, this moment has been a lifetime in the making.

I take a sip of the water, glancing around. There's a vacant stage, the microphone stand looming in silence. "How come no one's singing tonight?" I ask, curious. The stage usually hums with energy.

Louis shrugs. "Not sure. There's rarely a quiet minute around here."

"Too bad," I reply, my eyes still lingering on the mic stand. I feel a few stares from the crowd, but I can't place why. Is it the luggage? My sweatpants? Or maybe just the oddity of sitting in a pub sipping water?

Louis catches my shift in mood and asks, "How's the family?"

I exhale, staring into my cup, tracing a drop of water sliding down the side. "Mom's not too happy about me moving out. You know how she is. She didn't want me to leave."

Louis's reassuring touch rests on my shoulder, his smile warm. "She'll come around. She always does."

Just then, a voice cuts through the noise, and I almost jump. The accent is unmistakable. "Hey, Lou! How's it going?"

Louis's face lights up. "Finally!" he says with an excited tone.

I stare into my cup, unwilling to face whoever Louis is about to introduce me to. I'm in a worn Radiohead shirt and sweatpants, for god's sake. I just hope he doesn't try to make this awkward.

Louis turns, beaming, and says, "This is Violet."

Great. Just great.

I look up, and the guy doesn't even seem to care. His eyes flicker over to me for a second, but it's obvious he's uninterested. I wave shyly, cursing myself in silence.

He barely nods before turning back to Louis. "Hand me a glass of water, yeah?"

Louis grabs a glass and, for a moment, I feel the weight of the stranger's gaze burning into the side of my head. He doesn't look my way again, but I can feel his presence like a heavy weight on my shoulders.

"Nice shirt," he says, his tone flat, dismissive.

I almost want to explain that I don't usually dress like this, but I bite my tongue. My finger absently finds the hole in my shirt and I poke at it, wishing for the ground to swallow me whole.

"Thanks," I mutter, barely audible, as Louis returns with the water.

"Did you two get to know each other yet?" Louis asks, trying to keep the conversation going, oblivious to how awkward I feel.

I shake my head, too shy to speak. "Not yet," I reply quietly, taking another sip of my water. I don't even know the guy's name.

I look him over again—blond hair with brown roots, a Metallica shirt, and jeans that look like they've seen a few gigs. He's handsome, in a scruffy way, but his indifference to me is painfully obvious.

Louis interrupts my thoughts, pointing to the blonde guy. "This is Niall. He's one of the regular singers here."

I nod, a little too stiff. "Nice to meet you," I say, though it feels more like a formality than a greeting.

Niall doesn't even seem to notice. His attention is already elsewhere.

"Speaking of which," he says, breaking the silence. "I think I'll get up there for a song or two."

I freeze, my heart skipping a beat.

Louis claps him on the back. "Oh, thank god! No one's been up there in hours. I need a break from this guy's playlist," he says, gesturing to the other bartender.

Niall and I share a short laugh before he grabs his guitar case and heads for the stage.

I watch him set up, my throat tightening as he lowers the mic stand and pulls his guitar out. When his eyes catch mine across the room, I feel a jolt of something—nervousness, maybe. Then he begins to play, the haunting intro to Creep by Radiohead filling the room.