Murphy's Law ✔️

Chapter Twenty.

"Come here, Murphy."

Taking a deep breath, Murphy stepped in front of her boyfriend and looked up at him, allowing the calming energy that practically poured off of him to seep into her nervous aura. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a soft smile.

"You got this, baby. You know that."

And maybe she did, but then again, Murphy's hands were shaking violently and her palms were slick with sweat. She was worried she was sweating off her make up as well as she took another shaky breath and licked her red lips.

"I-I don't know, Harry. I don't know if I can do this."

"You're Murphy fucking Smalls. You can do anything," Harry urged with his serious voice. He squeezed her shoulders and gave her a smirk. "Now go out there and grace them with that voice and that smile, baby."

Murphy took another deep breath and gave him a timid grin. Grabbing the neck of her guitar, she turned on her heel and stepped onto the stage of the cafe.

Michelle had found out from coworkers that Harry gifted Murphy a guitar from her birthday- that was almost three weeks ago. Every day since, Michelle would step up behind Murphy, nod to the performer of the night and whisper 'that could be you, you know. Unless you're too chicken to go up there.' And goddamn it, Murphy was not a chicken.

And so, every night when Murphy would go home, she would practice for hours until the callouses on her fingers were rebuilt and it no longer hurt to press down on the fretboard for prolonged periods of time. Harry took to finishing paperwork to the sounds of Murphy's gentle strumming and humming and then eventually, to the sounds of her singing, when she finally got comfortable.

He was incredibly supportive throughout it all, obviously.

Murphy had trouble figuring out her sound at the beginning. Of course, back when she was younger, she was able to hit high notes without an issue- before her lungs were corrupted by age and cigarettes and spliffs. But after ten years and a shitton of growing up, Murphy's voice had settled on a raspy alto that had the ability to hit an angelic falsetto when she was able to control it. Harry had made a point to keep urging her to practice.

The first time he heard it was when she randomly began singing the religious song, O Holy Night.

Harry's ears perked up immediately because he knew Murphy hated the idea of Catholicism. They'd talked about it before, and so when he heard the first chords, he was completely perplexed, but then she started singing, 'fall on your knees, o hear the angels voices, o night divine, when Christ was born,' and suddenly he found himself standing in the doorway of the living room and staring at her clad only in his boxers and a sports bra, looking up at him with confusion.

"Do that again," he'd said to her. And she did.

They practiced together nightly- Harry using his knowledge of being a sound engineer to tell her what sounded right and what sounded wrong, until she'd finally put down five songs on a list that she had perfected and was confident would sound perfect when she sang them live.

And so, she sat down on the stool in front of the thirty or so people that sat silently looking up at her with sweet smiles. She tapped the microphone and cleared her throat, grinning.

"Hello," she greeted shyly, "my name's Murphy, and I'm going to sing a few songs. Is that alright?"

A chorus of 'yeah!'s sounded out in front of her along with sporadic applause and her grin widened. She nodded.

"I'll take that as a yes. I'm going to start with a song by Leon Bridges, it's called 'Beyond'. I hope you all enjoy it."

And then she looked down and began strumming the guitar, and her voice filled the room, and Harry felt like he was looking at the sun. His eyes squinted as a grin stretched across his face and his shoulders slumped in complete adoration at his girlfriend- his girlfriend. God, realizing that she was his and he was hers never got old.