You || luke hemmings - 5sos {au}

two

“And where are you going?” Bay asked me.

“To my guitar lesson,” I reminded her, an irritated tone to my voice. I did my makeup just like I do it every day—concealer, powder, bronzer, mascara, blush, and of course my winged eyeliner above my blue eyes. This morning before classes, I had gotten up earlier than I had wanted to so I had time to actually put time into the way I looked. I wore my favorite skinny jeans, paired with my black combat boots and a cropped Nirvana tank top. I layered it with a grey cardigan. I even took time to curl my nearly platinum blonde hair this morning (I say nearly because it isn't quite that light). However, it was now in a loose braid.

Her eyes lit up and she sat up a little straighter. “Can I come?”

“No, of course not.” I reply quickly.

“Whyyy?” Bay groans.

“Because I don’t want you see me humiliate myself--oh shit Bay, I really have to go and oh my God I have no idea where this guy’s dorm is.”

“Well, let me at least walk you there,” I nodded my head in defeat. She’s extremely stubborn—much like me. I looked down at the little sheet of paper which I had scribbled my teacher’s dorm room on. The two of us stepped outside of our room and Bay hovered over my shoulder reading the paper. She looks left then right. “It should be just down there,” she informed, pointing to the right.

“What? That can’t—“

“Well, go see for yourself. I’m out,” she gave me a peace sign. She walked to the left, leaving the building.

“Where are you going?” I hollered at her.

“Should I get my septum or medusa pierced?” she yelled back.

“What the hell? Uh—I don’t know—septum!” I saw her wink at me then she vanished. I took a deep breath then walked in the direction of the door. Guitar in my left hand, I knocked on the door half-way confident. It’s just like my door, pine wood, peek hole in the middle. The only thing different was instead of the number being 305 the number was 322.  

“One sec!” shouted a strangely familiar, deep, Australian voice. “Calum, get in here and pick up your shit!” I heard in the background. Nearly a minute later, the door opens and I’m pulled inside without being given to take in my teacher. He pulled me in and sits me down on a brown armless chair which sits opposite from its wooden sister. My mysterious teacher is in the kitchen making a ruckus. “Can I get you anything to drink?” said the voice from the kitchen. I recognize it from somewhere once again, but where?

The dorm is exactly the same as Bay and I’s, except this one looks like ten teenage boys who don’t have any time to pick up after themselves live here. Also, it is on the opposite side from mine, so everything seems to be slightly backwards. 

My teacher was talking to me—or to himself, I think—about something that I wasn’t paying attention to before, when he walks back into the living area. He stops in his tracks and suddenly stopped talking. He’s holding a medium sized mug in his left hand, which looks much smaller due to his massive hands. He clumsily dropped it on the floor spilling what looks like tea. “Shit!” he exclaimed and he’s back inside of the kitchen. He returned quickly with a wad of paper towels. I got down, helping him, taking a few towels and drying up the moisture.

“You don’t have to help me,” he informed me sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” I told him. My eyes curiously traveled up his body. He was very tall and had a blonde mess of hair. He’s dressed in black skinny jeans and from what it looks like, a black Blink182 t-shirt.

“It’s Iris right?” he asked me.

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. He looks up meeting my gaze and suddenly I recognize his blue eyes. “Holy crap, it’s you! You’re the kid from the music store!” I exclaimed, slightly panicking.

“Hence, the reason we’re cleaning up this tea.” He chuckles sarcastically. He had been just as shocked as I am. My heart rate picked up and I’m suddenly glad I fixed myself this morning. He—Luke I think—takes the wet paper towels and the mug from me and throws them into the bin, so I take my seat once again.

“So how are you?” He asked politely once he had come back.

“What happened to Mr. Dick-Face from last night?” I mused.

“Mr. Dick-Face was extremely tired. Sorry about that by the way.” He explained, laughing at my remark. I noticed a dimple on his right cheek peek out at me when he laughs. God, he was hot.

“You’re forgiven Mr. Luke…?”

“Hemmings,” Luke replied. “Do you actually like Nirvana or are you just wearing that shirt for ‘fashion.’” He used his long fingers to make air quotations.

“Well, I’ll admit that they’re good, but I’m more of a Bring Me The Horizon, Sleeping With Sirens, Pierce the Veil, kina girl.” I explained to him plainly.

“What about All Time Low? Or Blink. Do you like them?”

“Yeah, of course! I like a lot more than just three bands.” I chuckled. Luke took his beautiful guitar off of its stand and positioned it on his lap. I mirrored his actions.

“We’re probably going to just work on the basics today. I’ll teach you some easy versions of chords and give you some stuff to practice. Sound good?”

“Aye, Aye Captain,” I joked. Luke didn’t laugh though. Instead he pulled out what looked like a small packet and hands it to me. The first page was a diagram of an electric and acoustic guitar (I know because there were bold letters above them, explaining), the parts of them, and of course a small introduction to playing. After I’m finished reading through the first two pages, I look up to my instructor.

“Do you play any other instruments?” He questioned, running his fingers through his fluffy blonde hair. I felt the sudden urge to touch it, but I withstood myself.

“Piano,” I answered him bluntly.

“Good, then guitar will be easy for you.”

Luke taught me the easy basic chords and gave me some songs to learn such as Row-Row Your Boat and The Can-Can. He explained to me the foundations of guitar. For example, he taught me how to hold my guitar and how to position my wrist. It was all simple and would seem easy to remember, but my mind was clustered with instructions and rules. It felt like I had too many tabs open.

“Wait—so is it C and then G7 or G?” I asked rubbing my temples.

“Iris, don’t watch me; read your notes.” Luke said, sighing.

“I’m trying, but the goddamn strumming pattern is messing me up!” I whined.

Luke raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s no whining in guitar.” He said it as more of an order.

“Fine. My fingers—“ I began.

“DON’T EVEN START ABOUT YOUR FINGERS HURTING!” he shouted.

“Yes sir,” I said rolling my eyes.

“Listen Iris, you either want to be here and you want to learn or—“

“I do!”

“Then fix your crappy attitude!”

A dark headed head pops from around the corner. “Everything okay?” he asked. Luke and I exchanged a look and then I pack up my things.

“Yeah, we just got finished. See you next week, Luke.” I let myself out and hear Luke yell at me to not forget to practice just as I shut the door. I groan. What had I gotten myself into?