As the busker boy's talented fingers strummed the last chord slowly, he gave a goofy grin to the people around him, who had happened to accumulate around his sweet voice as he sang his song. He ran the same fingers through his flaxen hair, as if shaking himself out of a musical daze. The goofy smile on his face didn't leave once as the crowd surrounding him and his busking equipment clapped vigorously when his tune concluded.
Something about his voice left me speechless; and its husk seemed as though it had seen and felt everything. That wasn't possible though, as he looked just about my age.
He gave an awkward little bow at the applause, making me chuckle silently.
As the crowd dispersed after flicking a couple of five-dollar notes into his guitar case, I hung around for a little while longer (not like a creep, I promise), so I could talk to him.
I knew that basically everything could go wrong when you talked to a stranger; they might be a creepy perv, or as stupidly tactless as a three year old. Not to mention, they might not even speak English. Despite that, I had as strange urge to meet somebody in this new city- I can't last forever with no friends. I looked at the busker boy from a distance for a little while longer.
Adjusting his knee-length coat and blinking up at the chilly wind, the busker boy began to pack away his acoustic guitar, touching it with a sort of reverence. He knelt down to reach the guitar case on the floor, and pocketed the dollar bills the crowd gave him without a second glance. I realised in that moment that I was staring at the poor guy.
"Hi," I said, a little louder than I expected. "That was amazing!" I continued.
He swivelled his head, a little startled, before giving me a polite smile as his eyes found me, and moving the hair that fell into his face. "Thank you."
"What song was that?"
"Call Out My Name—"
I didn't even let the busker boy finish before squealing a little. "Ah, by the Weeknd, right? Love him," I said.
His smile grew a little and he stepped up from his kneeling position. "Me too! I'm Ruel," he said, confidence radiating from him. He stuck out his hand for me to shake, and I took it.
"The name's y/n. You can call me y/n/n, if you want! Nice to meet you."
"You seem new around here. I mean... uh," he said, gesturing my outfit, consisting of two multicoloured parkas, a long sleeved shirt and a hoodie, all layered over one other— completely parallel from his simple jacket. I flushed a little pink at this. For as long as I could recall, I had lived in the outback, and all we ever had were days filled with 40 degree heats and burning seatbelt buckles— definitely not the glacial winters of Sydney.
"Aren't you a little warm, y/n/n?" He said teasingly, hesitating as he said my name, making sure he got it right the first time. Awww! I thought, before slapping the notion out of my head as quickly as it came. Ew, y/n, you just met him! You CANNOT be attracted to him already!
"Surprisingly, not really," I replied as I wiggled my toes in my ugg boot, making him smile, amused. Yeah, maybe I was going a little overboard dressing in ugg boots this morning. "So how long have you been singing for? I'm guessing you're professionally trained right? Your voice is—" I didn't finish my sentence and instead replaced the last word with a 'mind-blown' gesture.
He chuckled nervously, "Thanks, but no, I haven't gone to a voice coach yet— school's been hectic." His eyes transformed from a brown to a deep forest green as the sunlight hit them, and he looked me in the eyes for a moment more, still smiling sincerely. I mirrored it back with the same intensity, that my cheeks began to get sore. Dear god, did he ever stop smiling? Not that I wanted him to stop, though...
A microscopic second of us looking at each other dopily was interrupted by my big mouth. "You have good music taste, do you have a playlist I could listen to?" I said, and cringing at how sudden it sounded.
"Yeah, actually," he smiled, holding out his palm, face upward in front of him. Um, what? W-why was he putting his hand out? Was he summoning spirits or some shit? Or did he want to put his. Number. In. My. PHONE?
Seeing my puzzled expression, he chuckled, ran his hand through his hair, strands of blonde glinting through, and held it out again. "Can I put my number in you phone, y/n/n? So I can send you my playlist? Also, I'm lonely and have no friends to bother," he giggled.
"Sure," I nodded nonchalantly.
After typing it into my phone and putting his contact as: "RUEEEEEEELLLLL", he passed my phone back to me. "Love your phone case."
"Thanks," I said, and tried to sound less breathless than I actually was. How did I manage snatching this guy's number, already? Everyone knows I'm social incapable!
He gave me a polite smile once more. "I really hope to see you 'round, y/n/n! I'll send you the playlist later today, and you should listen to it, if you can spare a moment," he said, before winking, turning and walking away. Again! Stop it with the attractiveness!
As Ruel's towering image shrunk to a speck in the distance— that made me think. I had never felt more at home in this city than when I had talked to busker boy. Out of all people, a stranger with a goofy grin, unusually tall height and a battered brown guitar case, made me feel as though I had a chance in this new city.
And if fate would allow me to see him again — I think the busker boy and I had a chance.
*.*.*.*
Me: Hey :p
RUEEEEEEELLLLL: Who's dis?
Me: It's y/n! How's the playlist going?
RUEEEEEEELLLLL: Oh hey hey, y/n/n! Yeah, I'll send it now
RUEEEEEEELLLLL: 1 Spotify message -
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