AWWA AU - When the Final Note Fades

((Okay, so this is my guilty modern!AU that I like to write little scenes for, but which I never post. I'm changing that now. Basically, Cain is in college studying musicianship, and Lief works at the local bar. This is what I imagine their personalities to be like where the major life-changing events of AWWA didn't happen. Lief is raised by Naomi, Cain's a dick, Kim is still around, that sort of thing. Also, they're not avians.

...If anyone likes this, I'll post more. Maybe I'll even post AWWA to give people context or something.))

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There is the sound of humming coming from the music room at the end of the hall.

This is not surprising, as all throughout this wing of the college, instruments can be heard at odd hours, mixing and blending into an off-key cacophony of scales and arpeggios, waltz, jazz, classical, even the occasional pop song thrown into the mix just to set everything off. It’s the sort of place where music happens, where musicians practice and play.

But it’s eight in the morning on a Saturday.

There should not be the sound of any sort of music coming from any of these rooms – after all, this is a college.

There most definitely should not be (deep, good timbre, on key) humming coming from the music room that Cain always used on a Saturday morning.

The song was lilted and rolling, almost Irish, and it was infuriating.

Cain swiped his student card over the reader on the door. It made a cheery little noise at him and the door unlocked. He pushed it open with more force than was strictly necessary.

The humming stopped as Cain stepped forward into the room.

“Kinda rude to barge in on someone unannounced.” Said the hummer, still cheery and bright.

“I booked this room.” Cain said, glaring up at him.

Oh, and that annoyed him more than anything.

Because the hummer, the one who was in his music room at eight on a Saturday morning, humming stupid, inane jigs had the gall to be significantly taller than him. Brown eyes caught the morning light that was pooling through the windows and they crinkled into a small smile, as the stranger flipped his long hair over one shoulder with a tiny rattling noise. Cain blinked and then stared as he realised the noise came from ropes of little beads that were threaded through this stranger’s hair like he was some sort of pirate.

He even had a bandanna! A stupid, faded bit of cloth that was wrapped around his head and was obviously there just to keep his bangs out of brown eyes that the sunlight caught and stained red. High cheekbones, Roman nose, full lips.

Lanky, all arms and legs and no muscles. And far too goddamn tall.

The stranger’s eyes crinkled. “Yeah.” He said, “Sorry. I’ll be out of here in just a moment. Running an errand for the faculty.”

He ran an awkward hand through his hair, before suddenly crouching down in one fast movement, limbs splaying like some sort of overgrown spider, and shuffling together the pile of manuscript that had been resting at his feet. He tucked these papers under one of his (overly long, gangly) arms and stood as suddenly as he crouched.

“how did you even get in here?” Cain demanded. “This is a post-grad only music hall.”

The stranger shrugged, eyes crinkling again, seemingly disaffected by Cain’s less-than-warm reception. “Staff.” He said, waving a little keycard attached to a grey lanyard that was carelessly stuffed into one pocket of his (very tight, Oh-god-why-am-I-noticing-this?) jeans.

“Errand boy hardly qualifies as staff.” Cain sneered.

The young man shrugged. “And a grad-dip hardly qualifies as post-grad.” He said to Cain, with the hint of a smirk.

Then, parting shot delivered, he sauntered past Cain and was out the door in a few loping steps.