Warnings: Elevators, mentions of alcohol kinda
(This is my first time posting fanfiction.)
Sebastian Wilder / Original Female character
Distantly, I register the sound of my alarm going off, though I keep my focus on the mascara wand clutched between three fingers. I hold my breath, willing my hand not to shake while I apply the makeup. Satisfied, I shove the wand back into the tube and twist it closed. I tuck the makeup back into my small makeup bag.
Finally I turn my attention to my phone, silencing the alarm meant to remind me to get ready for work. I gather and twist my waist length hair up into a bun, toying with the thought of cutting it all off, though I know I’d regret it. At times it seems no amount of pins and ties will ever truly tame my wild strands, which prompts me to keep it braided far more often than not.
I shove my makeup bag and a few extra hair elastics into my purse before checking my phone once more. I have more time. I know I do, but I like to wait in the quiet before the club opens, just me and the empty tables, imagining myself on that empty stage.
The lock sticks as I close the door. I really should get that fixed. The floor under the dingy hall carpet creaks under every few steps as I walk to the elevator. I know I should take the stairs but the expired inspection plaque and grinding, rattling sounds don’t scare me like they did when I moved in.
I plug my earbuds into my phone and slip them into my ears. I put on a random jazz album, my heart feeling like it’s beating in time with the music when I step out of the elevator and begin my walk. I passively time my steps with the music, my fingers tapping rhythms against the strap of my bag.
The club isn’t open yet, the sun hardly dipping in the sky, so I’m surprised to hear muffled music through the locked door. The lights are still dim when I let myself in, the club soaked in shadows. Moving further into the space I smile at the sight of Seb at the piano.
The man seems lost in the music his eyes closed as his fingers coax a mournful tune from the ivories. Not wanting to disturb him I go about the process of turning down chairs and lighting candles in the booths. I don’t notice at first that Seb has stopped playing, it takes me a few seconds more to realize I’d been humming.
Embarrassed, I clear my throat and walk behind the bar to retrieve my apron. My face feels hot and is surely a deep shade of scarlet, in that moment I’m grateful for the dim lights. I wipe down the tables biting my lip. I can feel his gaze following me. “Sorry, I um, I just thought I’d get an early start. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” My voice is soft yet somehow too loud in the empty club.
Over my shoulder I see him smile and shake his head. I light another votive candle careful not to let any wax drip on the table as I set down. Seb doesn’t play more, I don’t ask him to either. The silence feels fragile yet heavy. The kind that never truly settles. I breathe a sigh of relief when through my peripherals I see him stand and walk to his office.
(Thank you to Mirakagekoko for being a wonderful person, encouraging me to post this and for beta reading.)
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