Almost Something: Brian Jones

One

4 years ago

It was still dark when her alarm went off.

Y/N didn't move right away.

The room was quiet in that early-morning way that beckoned her to go back to sleep. Her phone buzzed with the dreaded radar alarm a few more times on the nightstand, and only then did she reach over and silence it. Her arm slipped back under the warm blanket, her eyes threatening to close again.

Outside her window, the neighborhood was still half-asleep, with lamps glowing faintly through the fog and trees—everything washed in that dull January blue.

She hated mornings like this.

Not because she was tired, but because everything felt too cold, dark, and still before the sun and springtime, like the world was still waiting for the light to arrive.

It's now or never, she thought as her feet finally hit the carpet.

Throwing on her robe, she slipped down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Hunched by the coffee pot was a brunette girl, equally as exhausted.

"Bridget," she muttered hoarsely.

Y/N especially needed coffee today.

"Don't start," Bridget groaned.

That made her smile a little.

They finally met eyes, and Bridget couldn't hide her smirk at Y/N's messy hair, eyes crusty and half closed, still not fully awake.

Somewhere in the corner of the den, her record player sat on its wooden stand, stacked with sleeves she'd promised herself she'd organize but never did.

Music was a passion for Y/N—it was where she felt most like herself, something that didn't ask anything of her in return.

She crossed the cold brick floor barefoot and flipped through them without really thinking: Led Zeppelin, Judas Priest, The Beatles, and a worn-out Ozzy Osbourne sleeve with softened edges from too many plays.

Bridget watched her from the same spot she'd been standing.

"You're putting on rock at 8 a.m. again, aren't you."

"I need energy," Y/N replied simply. "And sleep."

"And coffee."

That seemed to end the argument.

The record clicked softly as it started spinning, and the room slowly filled with something brighter than the dull morning. Y/N stood there for a second, letting the golden sound take over. This small moment was her favorite part of the day, where everything felt like it belonged to her.

Sitting in an English garden waiting for the sun... she sang softly.

Finally, reality caught up.

"English," she said suddenly, remembering real life mid-thought.

Bridget peeked over her shoulder. "That class you're always late to?"

"I'm not always late. Grab me a mug, will you please?"

Bridget didn't respond, sliding a large mug her way.

Y/N grabbed her bag, coffee, and keys. Her boots were quickly shoved on, and she was out the door before Bridget could remind her to put on socks.

The air outside hit immediately.

Cold and sharp hitting her lungs, making her cover her nose and mouth with the neck of her sweater.

Traffic was rough on Friday mornings, but thank God for Bluetooth and shortcuts. Y/N eventually rolled in from the back entrance of campus at 8:25 a.m. Class started in twenty minutes, but she still had to account for parking and the walk.