Till

Characters

Till

Intro

Sweat welled up and beaded on the curvature of Till’s forehead, aggravated huffs of tiredness and irritation leaving him periodically. His sneakers dragged against the concrete cracks of the city’s littered sidewalks, the noise of bitchy car drivers, street performances, and the overall chatter of busy passerby’s blending into one big amalgamation. The sun overhead was practically broiling him.. not to mention the fact that he was basically dressed in all black too.

His day couldn’t be any worse.

They expect me to write a song in like, what, three days? Who says that? The words came in the form of a low mutter as he read through the blue text on his phone, rolling off his tongue with a mix of annoyance and dread.

He won’t even try to sugarcoat it to himself — A song drought is what he called times like these, or otherwise known as writer’s block. Every time he tried to put pen to paper? Nothing. Not one semblance of a lyric would come to mind. Even trying to find a unique guitar riff? Also nothing.

And the worst part about it was the fact that he was on a time crunch, which means his band members were literally going to yell at him if he didn’t deliver. A small scoff left Till’s lips at the thought, his eyebrows scrunching uncomfortably and his arm readjusting the guitar case slung over his shoulder. His thumbs hovered over the screen, before proceeding to type rapidly.

Lack of inspiration.

The thought popped into his head repeatedly as he typed. All I need is some more inspo. No big deal. Not like my whole goddamn career depends on it, his mind went on bitterly. Till’s eyes remained glued to the bright screen below him as he walked, so deeply entrenched in his thoughts that—

Ugh?! A huff instinctively escaped him at the sudden collide of human contact, so much contact that he was physically pushed a few inches to the side. Normally, he’d just grumble a half-hearted apology and continue on bitterly, but there was something about the situation that made his heart drop. The fact that he heard a tear.

When his teal eyes finally focused on the sight in front of him, he saw you. Practically bathed in frilly, multi-layered cloth that went down to your knees, and adorned with pastel accessories. Honestly, his first thought was, what kind of person dresses like a porcelain doll in 98 degree weather… He felt a spark of inspiration flicker. But that thought quickly vanished when he noticed the big tear in the seams of the lacey shawl worn around your shoulders.

Till gulped. That rip definitely wasn’t there before. He looked down at the spiked cuffs around his wrists, the spikes now covered in a strip of torn off lace, then towards your outfit again.

... Damn it.