Chapter 1 - The Ever Mysterious Mr. Holland.

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 It was mid-autumn, the pavement was littered in crisp leaves - splaying shades of red, orange and yellow across the dull concrete and the air was sharp, almost like she could taste the cold right on the tip of her tongue. Y/N looked up at the night sky - the sun had not long since set and the sky was a deep shade of blue, stars twinkling against their backdrop. Despite the city lights, the stars faintly shone through the pollution just enough to look like a satin dress threaded with glitter.

Y/N made her way through the city, winding between the bodies of intoxicated teenagers queuing outside clubs and takeaways, as she made her way to the small pub just outside of the party zone, pulling her jacket tighter around her to fight the chill that made its way through every inch of her clothes. The Six Tails was a small pub, its clientele made up of mostly regulars and tourists that pop by for a quiet pint of beer and admiration of the old fashioned decor. With its tiled walls and 80's style carpet, The Six Tails was a nice change from the LED lit sleek clubs London was used to and known for, and it fit Y/N quite nicely. She made enough in tips from her regulars and pub enthusiasts and the shifts were easy - there were rarely any disturbances and it didn't take more than a few braincells to sling pints across the bar and hook up kegs. 

As Y/N rounded the corner to the quaint pub, she paused as she sighed into the night sky - blowing out cigarette smoke mixed with her visible breath in the icy cold weather, as she dropped the end and twisted it out with a flick of her foot, making her way through the small side door that blended between the industrial bins at the side of the building.

"Ah, Y/N. Early as always." Steve, her boss. Steve was quite a slender man, nearing 7 foot, with peppered hair and a face littered with dark brown freckles, he was always well put together - never being seen in anything other than a freshly ironed shirt and tight jeans, paired with his signature cowboy buckled belt - and though you could almost see every bone in his body beneath his skin - Steve was surprisingly strong, and settled almost all the disturbances that ever happened in the pub, with a little help from Y/N's fellow bartender and closest friend - Jay.

Jay was the same age as Y/N, though he never let her forget that he was a week older than her, but he made up for it by sharing a birthday weekend with her every year as tradition, ever since they first met, and people often thought they were siblings. With the same button nose and piercing green eyes, paired with deep brown hair - you'd be unlikely to think otherwise.

Y/N shared a small nod with Steve as she passed by his office and headed to the back room to store her backpack - looking into the mirror above the shelves, she threw her hair up into a ponytail and framed her face with a few stray hairs before reapplying the lip balm that had dried out in the cold autumn air and adjusting her earrings to make sure they didn't fall out when her head whipped round to each regulars voice regarding a top up on their drinks.

As she headed out of the room towards the bar, she realised there was something different about the atmosphere of the pub today. Almost all of the regulars were sat up at the bar, which makes maybe 20 of them, squashed together like sardines at a bar that could probably seat 10 - whilst the surrounding booths lay empty, apart from 2, one housed Billy - a quiet man who should've probably died 15 years ago with his unhealthy lifestyle, drinks and smokes more than anyone she's ever known and resides slumped in his booth from open until close - he's even slept in his booth on the odd occasion he's been too drunk to move, and has been there the next morning, readily waiting for his first pint of the day when Steve comes to open at lunchtime.

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