You were quietly looking for a vinyl from Nirvana, when the bells on the door to your favorite old music store chimed, signaling a new customer. It was odd, as almost no one ever came here anymore. Standing on your tippy-toes, and peering over the wall of antique vinyls, you caught the eye of Alex, your friend who worked here. He shrugged, confirming your thoughts, and you ducked your head back down. You didn’t see anyone, so you resumed browsing the music.
“Aha!” You exclaimed a few minutes later, coming upon a stash of your favorite bands’ vinyls. Hugging both Nirvana and Arctic Monkey cd’s to your chest, you proceeded to grab the Iron Maiden disc. But something kept it in the little slot. You heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, you saw a mildly familiar face with bright red hair and pink lips. Those piercings looked recognizable as well. But not a single name came up.
“Um, can I help you?” You asked the boy, cautiously.
“Well, yes.” He had an accent — was it australian? “You see, I think you may have grabbed my disc by accident.”
You narrowed your eyes. “No, I had it first. You grabbed my vinyl.” When it came to music, you were extremely stubborn.
“I don’t think so. I had it first.” The boy was now leaning against the wooden aisle, with a lazy, sort-of smirk on his face. He suddenly let go of the vinyl, causing a moment of confusion for you. Within that moment, he teasingly hugged it to his chest, mockikng your movements.
“Thanks babe,” he said, winking.
You huffed in annoyance. “I was here first,” you said, pouting. “And anyways, I get dibs, because I’m a valued customer here.”
“But I’m the bigger fan here.” The boy grabbed both sides of his denim jacket and did a super-hero like pose, showing off his Iron Maiden T-shirt.
“Nuh uh.” You smiled, knowing you had a comeback. “See, I have merch too.” You pulled back the sleeve of your flannel, revealing a few Iron Maiden wristbands. “HA.” Grabbing The Final Frontier from the boy, you smirked.
“That’s not nice,” the boy pouted. “Mikey is sad.” His eyes twinkled with humor.
You smirked, lifting your head up to meet his gray green eyes. “You seriously call yourself Mikey?”
“Well my real name’s Michael. Michael Clifford. And who do I have the honor of fighting over a vinyl for?”
“[y/n], you replied. “And I think I know you. You’re from 5 seconds of summer, right?”
Michael, or Mikey bit his lip, running his fingers through his kool-aid hair again. “Well yeah, uh…yeah.”
You smiled. “That’s dope. I’ve always wanted to be in a band, but heh. These lungs ain’t got the skills.”
Mikey laughed, and looked at me. “Do you like our music?” He seemed, nervous, for some reason.”
“It’s not bad.”
“What do you mean it’s not bad? It’s fucking brilliant.” Mikey feigned hurt, and then threw a small pout at you.
You rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay geez. Your music is pretty good.”
“Thank you,” Mikey replied, curtseying. “We’re actually here in [y/c/n] for a show.”
“Cool!” You smiled.
Mikey shrugged his shoulders, and looked at you, nervously. “Well, I actually have a spare ticket. Um, would you like to come?”
“That would be super cool,” you beamed at him. “But are you sure you want me to come? As in me me? Like, I’m really awkward with people, so you might not want me to be at your show mostly because…”
Michael shut you up by placing his hand against your mouth. “You’re definitely coming. I’ll text you the details.”
“But you don’t have my phone number.”
Michael smirked, and waved something around. Suddenly, you realized it was your phone. “WHAT? How? You little…”
You hands flew to the front of your jean’s pocket. Your pockets were, of course, empty.
“Chill.” Michael laughed. “You really shouldn’t drop your phone on the floor, you know?”
You blushed, not doubting the fact that you dropped your phone one bit. “I’m always doing that. Thanks.”
“No problem. I texted you the deets.”
You smiled. “I’ll be there.”
“You’d better.” Michael jokingly replied. “I’ll die of loneliness otherwise.”
You rolled your eyes. While checking your time, you realized that it was almost time to meet up with your best friend.
“I got to go,” you told Michael, apologetically. “I have to go see my friend.”
“Same,” Michael replied. “My band’s rehearsing in twenty minutes.”
You smiled, and walked over to Alex, at the cashier, with Michael trailing behind you. Now you felt a little bit guilty for taking the Vinyl that he wanted.
“Um, do you want the vinyl?” You offered.
“No, it’s fine,” Michael replied.
Shrugging, you handed your items to Alex who rung them up for you. But before you react, Michael was standing right next to you, and handed Alex the money for you.
“What?” You stared at Michael. “I thought that you didn’t want it anymore?”
“I don’t,” Michael replied. “It’s for you.” He held out the purchases to you, while thanking Alex, and leading you out.
“You didn’t have to do that,” You blushed.
“I know.” Michael shrugged. “So, I’ll see you later. Oh, and you look good in red. Wear something red.” Winking, he walked off.
You just stood in front of the store, unsure of what just happened.
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