17BLACK |h.s| [Discontinued]

Chapter 1

Ambrosia's POV

It was raining outside. Droplets of water pattered, hard, onto the glass windows of the shop as vinyl records spun endlessly, drowned out the sound of the pounding. The scratchy noises of the music soothed me as I awaited eagerly for the closing hours of shift to dawn upon me.

Around 10 minutes had passed and we were 5 minutes from closing completely. I didn't see any point in prolonging my time here, unnecessarily, as it was highly unlikely anyone would walk into the store at this time.

It was 8:55 P.M., who's out at this time?

I sighed, exasperatedly, as I began preparing for closing the shop.

But of course, when has anything turned out in my favor?

The bell in front of the door chimed and I could not express how much it hurt when I felt my heart plummet in disappointment. I was SO incredibly close to going to my beloved apartment on a cold, lonely day and yet again, my dreams were crushed by some random, ignorant, insignificant imbecile.

A tall, lanky dude with long hair and loose curls strolled into the shop. Just sorta strolled in, casually, without a care in the world.

Not even the slightest consideration that it was almost closing time and some people wanted to get the fuck out of the shop and just curl up in their bed with some coffee and a good book.

And, to top everything off, he wore sunglasses, a weird ass fucking black velvet jacket with gold impressions, black boots, and a black velvet fedora.

When it was raining outside.

Who the fuck wears sunglasses, velvet clothes, and expensive ass boots when it's been fucking raining for the whole day?

I swear, everything about this man was ticking me off ever since he walked into the shop right when my hopes were soaring, leaving me thinking that I would get to go home, but NO, not today.

He was holding something in his right hand, rotating it in his fingers, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, not that I would want to anyways, after all, it wasn't any of my business. 

I watched his every move as he made his way through the shop. The fingertips of his long fingers of his left hand skimming the tattered surfaces of old record covers as his other hand was occuppied with the mysterious object in his palm that he had been rotating non-stop.

He suddenly stopped, back-tracked, and looked at a stack of records, quizzically, as he picked one up from the middle of the stack and examined it.

It couldn't be.

But it was.

I was slightly excited and dejected at the same time as he flipped the record over so that I could finally see the cover. 

Bee Gees.

Their Greatest Hits.

Stayin' Alive.

It was one of my favorite records in the shop, definitely up there with the Ramones, Jackson 5, and of course, Michael Jackson. And I was sad to see it go, that is if our little friend cared to buy it. I knew that it was a musical piece that many treasured as it was a popular classic and that for that reason solely, it was not going to be an easy purchase. Its musical aesthetics were brilliant and it was such a pleasure to sing along to or play the guitar to. The bass and the vibrations of the guitar strings made the song all the more soulful and finally, the vocals finished the track off as they gave it a vintage, airy, free, rock and roll-rebellious feel. 

I like this man.

Not one person who had come into this shop had bothered to stop and look at the record because it was behind all of the other records that nobody bothered to listen to or had even heard of, but he, out of all people, was able to find it without asking me for help and was just miraculously able to locate it as it was practically drowning in a sea of other unknown vinyls.