Roadtrip Oneshots

Mindy, Busker

A request from the incredible MissTaken17... Love you gorgeous. xx I hope you like this one. xx❣️💞

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Andy

It was mid October, which meant bad news for me. Because at this time of year, it began to get colder. And wetter. And when your job consisted of singing to crowds in the street... That didn't bode well.

See, I was a Busker. Probably not the best choice, but I had no other options. It was either sing on the streets to try to earn the favour of strangers, or is was to live homeless. I paid my weekly rent with my earnings, leaving me with little to no extra money afterwards. But that was okay. I had a roof over my head, even if I was only paying far too much for one room.

But despite this, I did enjoy it. Although there were times where I didn't want to go out, or I couldn't. If it was raining, there would be no one in the streets, so I'd either have to give up a days worth of money, or I'd have to go to the London Underground, and busk for a bit down there. After all, any money was better than none.

Also, it was fatal if I fell ill. Because I couldn't afford to lose one days worth of money, and if I did it was likely that I would go hungry that week, or I had more rent to pay the next week because I wouldn't earn enough.

So yeah, back to now.

I could feel the air around me getting colder. My fingerless gloves were beginning to fray, and I could feel ice building up inside my fingers as I strummed my guitar. Every time I breathed out, a puff of hot air erupted from my mouth, making a mystical cloud of white that rose higher and higher until it dissipated.
My scarf and hat protected my face and eyes from the wind and the cold air, and my jacket provided little warmth. But it was all I had.

But like every day, the sight of the checked red and black coat caught my eye. Then the black hair, heading my way, as it usually did at this time of day. I hid a smile behind a cough, beginning the next song.
Somehow, this stranger always appeared to it, and only this song. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he leant against a shop window, listening to me sing and play. My voice was hoarser today, because I was battling a sore throat, but I couldn't take the day off.

Normally, I had a few people standing and watching me, listening to me, and rarely they clapped. When they did, I felt a burst of pride run through me.

But that wasn't happening today... That I already concluded the second I stepped out my front door. The temperature would scare people off, scare them inside so that they were curled up on the sofa, heating on, hot chocolate wrapped in their hands, talking and laughing with their families.

I didn't have any of that.

It was just me and my guitar. Me and my voice. Blanket over my shoulders as I played the guitar until the early hours of the morning when I couldn't sleep.

I finished the song, hating how I had to avoid the high note I had been practising. But it had to be done, because if I tore my throat to pieces I wouldn't be able to sing.

The stranger made his way over like normal, and we nodded to each other like normal when he tossed a handful of coins into my guitar case, the coins jangling on top of the small pile I had earned today.
Not my best, but it wasn't my worst.

And then he was gone. I followed his coat with my eyes until he got lost in the crowd, or he turned a corner. Either or.

***

The next day was interesting.

My guitar wasn't in tune, so I had spent my brief break (Where I had a few sips of ice cold water, making me shudder, and half a sandwich, because it was all I could afford) tuning it; my trembling hands made this task take way longer than it should have. I didn't even realise someone was stood right behind me until I turned around. I jumped in shock.