#borap

October 1969

The next morning you awoke with a smile on your face. You weren’t quite sure why until the memories of the night before started coming back to you. Dancing to great music, running into Roger again, and that mystery of a guitarist: Brian. He was just as intriguing this morning as he was last night. A part of you wished you had asked Roger or Tim where he was, but you supposed it was too late now, and as you pulled yourself out of bed and into the world you tried to push the thought of him out of your mind.

After a full day of classes, which, as per usual, were long and exhausting, you found yourself at work. On Wednesdays you worked from 6 until closing at midnight. Today you had decided to actually be productive and while you waited for another customer to come through the door you worked on your composition assignment. You had two weeks to write the first movement of a sonata in the correct form, but as much as you tried, you just couldn’t get the development to sound the way you wanted it to. You sat focused behind the counter, lost in the world of themes and dominant keys, when the bell over the door jingled. You looked up and to your complete surprise saw Brian standing there. He looked almost exactly as he had the night before. Same untamed hair, same look of concentration, and when he saw you at the desk, he flashed the same small smile as last night.

“Welcome to Selmer’s,” you started your preprogrammed greeting, but then decided to take a risk, “I suppose you’ll be needing some new guitar strings?”

As Brian looked up to see who had just spoken, he was met with the sight of what he thought was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. You sat perched up on the stool behind the counter, pieces of staff paper spread around you, and a pencil in your hand, and even though he knew he was staring he just couldn’t look away. That was, until he realized what you had just said to him.

“Yeah I-- wait, how did you know that?” Brian said, utterly confused.

His speaking voice was just as light and sweet as his singing voice.

“Lucky guess?”

He chuckled, accepting your answer, but not fully certain that he believed you.

“Something tells me that you don’t use Fender strings,” you continued, “so, what can I get for you?”

“Wow you’re good, uh I use RotoSound 8 gauges.”

“A fine choice. I don’t play guitar myself but I’ve heard from a lot of my customers that they give you a really nice sound. A lot of people tell me that they find Fender strings too abrasive.”

When you mentioned this you saw him raise a questioning eyebrow.

“Wow that’s really funny that you would mention that,” he said, “Last night I was just telling the drummer in the band I’m in that the Fender strings make my sound real abrasive.”

“Lemme guess: you broke some of your strings, didn’t have any extras on hand, sent your drummer to go and get some while you finished setting up, he brought you the wrong ones, you played a show with an abrasive sounding guitar, and now you’re here buying the right strings.”

When you finished talking you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of absolute shock and disbelief that was across Brian’s face. He truly didn’t know what to say.

“How on earth did you know all of that?”

You smiled, finally deciding to let him off the hook.

“Your drummer Roger came running in here yesterday right before closing looking for your guitar strings, only he had no idea which strings to buy so I gave him your basic 12 gauges...”

Brian shook his head in disbelief.

“I told him specifically which strings to buy, I even went so far as to write it down but he insisted that he knew what he was doing. I’m never letting him buy gear for me again.”

“If it makes you feel better he did seem to be quite distraught about it when he came in. Nearly knocked down my door rushing inside.”

“Well I suppose that does make it slightly better, but you still haven’t told me how you knew I was upset about the strings.”

“Right, forgot about that. So my friend Freddie has been following this band called Smile around for quite some time,”

At the mention of the band’s name Brian smiled as he started to piece the story together.

“And he’s been on me for ages to come out to one of their shows, so last night I finally did, and as I get there and see the band walk onstage, who would be sitting behind the drum kit but Roger. I went round back after the show was over with Fred to see Roger and Tim but you weren’t there.”

“I was off taking those awful strings off of my guitar,” he said, “but now I wish I had been there to meet you.”

As he said that you felt your heart flutter in your chest once again.

“Me too, but I’m glad I’ve met you now.”

“Will I be seeing you again?”

“Yeah I hope so,” you said, giving him a small smile that he returned even more so. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Once again, he smiled. “I’m Brian.”

And with that, you handed him the package of strings, letting your hands linger for a second as they brushed against his, before giving him one last grin as he walked out the door.

(4)

_____

It had been one week since your run-in with the guitarist and all you seemed to be able to think about was when you would be able to see him again. You tried not to let it distract you from your life too much, but as you and Freddie walked home after classes that afternoon it proved to be difficult.

“...and then I said to Tim-- Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

You broke yourself out of the haze of your unintentional daydream.

“Yes! Sorry Fred, I just zoned out there for a moment.”

“Well bring yourself back because I’m about to tell the best part of the story. So I was saying to Tim that maybe we should just give up on trying to find a flat for all of us because there is literally nothing available in our area and he agreed with me. So just when we were about to call Brian and Roger and tell them, we get a call from Roger saying that he found us a place to live!”

“That’s great!” You said, “where is the place?”

“That’s the best part, it’s right down the street from Ealing where we rent out the practice rooms which means it’s right down the street from your place. And don’t worry, we won’t be at your door bothering you all day and stealing your food.”

You laugh slightly.

“Yes you will.”

“You’re right we probably will, but we’ll be pleasant company I assure you.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Excellent! We’re set to move in this weekend and we’d love to have the help.”

“Sure thing,” you said, “just tell me what time to be there.”

_____

Move in day came bright and early on Saturday morning. You were up at 5 to take a cab over to Freddie’s flat on the other side of the neighborhood. When you arrived you found that he had already been up for 2 hours, finishing off last minute packing and piling boxes and a few pieces of furniture into the small truck he had rented.

“Don’t you think the truck might have been a little overkill?” you said, looking at its mostly empty interior, “I mean you don’t exactly have that much stuff to bring.”

“Oh trust me darling, I know. The truck isn’t just for me, we’re stopping by Roger’s place to load his things in here as well. Then Tim and Brian are meeting us there.”

You nodded in understanding.

“So, what can I do to help?”

“If you can grab the last few boxes from upstairs and bring them down here that would be great. And then come and help me lift this chair into the truck.” He said, gesturing at a very old and worn looking armchair sitting on the curb.

“Roger that,” you said, and headed up the stairs.

A half hour later the two of you had successfully loaded all of Freddie’s things into the truck and were driving away down to Roger’s place.

Roger lived another several blocks away, even farther away from you than Freddie, in a tiny one room flat on the top floor of the building. He had not yet started the process of luging his boxes down the five flights of stairs that he had so graciously forgotten to mention when he asked Freddie for help the other day.

“Roger...I’m...going...to kill...you,” you pant as you make your fourth trip down the stairs, two boxes balanced in your arms.

“C’mon,” he said, “if I had told you about the stairs you would never have agreed to come and help me.”

“And you’d have been right,” interjected Freddie who was standing at the bottom of the stairwell, leaning against the wall, and fanning his face profusely. “Is that the last of it?”

“Thankfully yes,” you said, as you made your way out to the truck and hoisted the boxes inside. Roger followed suit, and finally you were able to pull the door down.

“Wonderful!” said Freddie, “next stop: our new home!”

It was nearly 3 o’clock when you three pulled up in front of the boy’s new building. Brian and Tim were sitting outside on the steps waiting for you.

“Well it’s about damn time,” said Tim, “you guys were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“We were a bit, delayed,” you said, looking directly at Roger. Brian gave a small snort under his breath.

“Oh come on, you guys are so dramatic. So we’re a little late, it’s not like we’re meeting the Queen or anything.”

You and Freddie collectively rolled your eyes.

“Now let’s hurry up and unpack.”

Compared to the amount of effort it had taken you to pack up Freddie and Roger’s flats, unpacking them was a breeze. Their new building had an elevator and their flat was right next door.

“Wow you guys, this is a really nice place,” you said as you walked through the door, “how did you find this place again, Roger?”

“Funny story really, I was talking to this broad at a coffee shop the other day and I guess I mentioned how my mates and I were looking for a new place to live that was central in the city. Well it turns out that her grandmother is moving to Manchester and has been trying to sell her flat for ages.”

“Ages? A place like this is every Londoner’s dream, why couldn’t she sell it?”

“Well she wasn't exactly going about it in the most conventional way. They had to sit her down and explain that walking down the street and asking people if they would like to buy your flat isn’t the most effective or appreciated form of advertisement.”

“Yeah not appreciated unless you’re four broke blokes like us in which case she was so desperate to sell it we paid next to nothing for it,” said Tim, setting down a large box. “I think this is almost all of it, there’s just one box left in the truck.

“I’ll go and get it,” said Brian, standing up.

“It’s pretty heavy, you’ll need two people to lift it,” said Tim.

“I’ll go with you,” you said quickly, making your way to the door and holding it open for him. As you walked into the hallway you caught Freddie looking at you with a sly look across his face.

There was a slightly awkward silence as you two walked down the stairs. Finally you spoke up.

“So uh, how’ve you been since I saw you at the store?”

“Oh um I’ve been alright. I’ve had a lot of work for school and all so I’ve been pretty focused on that. I think Roger already told you that I’m studying astrophysics, but I don’t want to bore you talking about it.”

“No I’d love to hear about it! What are you working on right now?”

“Well,” he said, his face lighting up, “the main thing that’s been eating up all my time is this paper we were assigned on the Hertzsprung-Russell Diagram. Basically it’s a scatter plot of stars that shows the relationship between the stars’ luminosity or brightness and its temperature. We’re meant to cover its history and creation, the functions of the diagram, and its importance in the advancement of the field. It’s an insane amount of information to cover and I’ve only got two weeks to write it.”

“That sounds really interesting,” you say, “I’m not usually one for maths and science but from the way you talk about it I’m actually interested to hear more about it.”

“You’re welcome to read my paper when it’s done if you’d like.”

“I might just take you up on that offer,” you said, smiling.

“So that’s what I’ve been up to,” he said, “what about you? You’re over at Ealing studying music, right?”

“Yep, working hard to start my career as a starving artist,” you said sarcastically. “Jokes aside though I have been quite busy as well. I’ve got a recital coming up next week so I’ve been locked in a practice room all this week.”

“Wow, that sounds really stressful.”

“It’s not too bad, this one just counts for a completion grade. The real stressors are the midterm and final recitals. Those are killer.”

“Well stressful or not I’m sure you’ll do amazing. I would love to hear you play sometime,” he added. He had been wanting to hear you play ever since Freddie had told him you played the flute, but he hoped he wasn’t being too pushy.

“Would you like to come to the recital?” you said, “it’s this Tuesday at 2.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose or anything you know since we sort of just met each other.”

“Nonsense, I would love it if you came! In fact, I want you to. It would be so nice to have someone cheering me on in the audience. Freddie and Tim usually have classes that conflict so I’m normally playing to a crowd of strangers.”

“Well I’ll be there right in the front row, and I’ll clap louder than anyone else in the room,” he said, and you couldn’t help but blush.

“You know I just remembered that we came down here for a reason,” you said, looking towards the truck where the last box was still sitting.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, “we should probably get that upstairs before they start to worry that we’ve been hit by a car or something.”

Together the two of you lifted the box up and out of the truck and into the building. Tim hadn’t been lying when he said the box was heavy. Even with the two of you, it was quite the struggle to carry it up to the flat.

“Jesus Christ, what’s in here, a load of rocks?” you said as the elevator reached their floor.

“I think it might be all our amps and sound stuff. You can tell that Roger packed this box because any sane person would have split them up between several boxes to keep the weight down.”

At last you made it into the flat, ridiculously heavy box and all.

“I wasn’t expecting to get that much of a workout in today,” you said, “next time make it a little heavier why don’t you.”

Ignoring your comment, Freddie said, “Well you two were gone a long time weren’t you,” he eyed you suspiciously.

“Yeah it took a lot of effort to carry that box,” you answer, “I need to go and get some water or something.”

You headed into the kitchen and Freddie followed behind you, closing the door.

“Alright spill it, it did not take you twenty  minutes to carry a box from the truck into an elevator,” he said.

“I mean we talked for a little bit while we were down there, but I don’t see why-”

“Let’s skip over the part where you try and dance around the facts. You so obviously have a thing for Brian!”

At his comment you felt your stomach drop slightly.

“What?! No I don’t!”

“Oh come on Lucy, I wasn’t born yesterday. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at him, hanging on to his every word, and you volunteered to go with him to get that box so quickly I don’t think he had even finished his sentence.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said, “can’t I just like being around someone?”

“Of course you can, but that’s not what’s going on here. You like him, it’s so obvious.”

“You’re way off, Fred.”

As he gave you an exasperated look you felt some level of panic rise in you.

“If I liked Brian then why do I have a date set for this weekend? Hm?”

You’re not sure why you said it. It was a complete lie, you hadn’t been on a date in months nor did you have any interest in going on one now, but you had already committed to this story and if Fred found out you were bluffing you would never hear the end of it.

“Really?” said Freddie, skepticism in his voice, “you have a date?”

“Yep, Saturday night.”

“With who?”

Shit.

“Uh just some guy from my composition class,” then you added hastily, “you don’t know him.”

“No of course I don’t,” said Freddie, “but I’d love to meet him! Why don’t you have him pick you up at your flat so I can be there to say hello?”

You could tell that he saw right through you, but you were too far down this road to back out.

“Yeah um, ok sure. I’ll let him know.”

“Excellent!”

And with that Freddie left the kitchen, leaving you to realize what you had just gotten yourself into.

Well shit, now I’ve got to find a date. Great. Who the hell am I supposed to even ask?

______

The next day you ended up asking out a guy named Trey who sat behind you in composition class. He seemed really excited which made you feel even worse about the whole thing as you knew you would have to let him down after the one date. Saturday arrived all too soon and at a quarter to seven Freddie showed up at your door.

“Alright so where is this lad you have so graciously charmed?” he said, a devilish smile on his face.

“He should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. You opened it and there stood Trey, shifting nervously on his feet with a meek smile on his face. You could already tell that this was going to be painful. Before you could say anything, Freddie showed up right behind you to look at Trey.

“Hello darling, I’m Freddie, Y/N’s friend, I was just stopping by to see her off before your big date! I’ve got to say, when Y/N told me she had a date this weekend I didn’t believe her because, well, she’s not usually the type, but you two look oh so cute together, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you in the future!”

You could have killed him. You knew exactly what he was doing, and he had won, so now you were stuck still having to go on this date with the knowledge that Freddie would be waiting at your home to confront you when you got back.

“Don’t mind him, Trey,” you said, “Freddie can get a little over-invested in my life sometimes. Shall we?”

And with that the two of you walked out the door, but not before you looked over your shoulder to shoot Freddie a death glare to which he responded with a look of mock confusion.

To say the date was awkward would have been an understatement. It was clear that Trey didn’t pick up on how uncomfortable you were, or if he did, he didn’t mention it. You somehow stumbled your way through dinner and then a movie. By the end of the night though, you had just about reached the end of your rope as on the cab ride back to your flat he kept going on and on about how much he loved the movie you went to see.

“And I just thought the ending was so brilliant,” he said, “the way they brought the two story lines together, I didn’t even see that coming!”

“Yeah it was good,” you said, half-heartedly. The cab pulled up to the curb. “Well, this is me.”

“Let me walk you up, then we can say a proper goodbye,” he said.

“Alright,” you said.

As expected, Freddie was there waiting for you when you got back. He sat on your sofa, sipping on a glass of wine, as you and Trey said your goodbyes.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Y/N,” he said, “I’d love to do it again soon.”

“Um, yeah maybe,” you said, mentally kicking yourself as the words came out of your mouth. Why couldn’t you just say no? There was a moment of silence and then he leaned in to give you an awkward kiss on the cheek before saying one last goodnight.

Once he was gone you walked around to the sofa and collapsed into it, eyes closed.

“Well,” said Freddie, “that really was something. I think you and this Trey character could have a real future together. You seem to get along swimmingly and not to mention he’s quite handsome.”

“Alright! Alright Fred, you win! I may have a bit of a crush on Brian.”

______

It was Tuesday morning, the morning of your recital, and Brian found himself wandering through the halls of the Ealing music school, looking for the recital hall. As he rounded what he swore was the same corner he passed ten minutes ago he saw that a group of students had shown up and were talking rather loudly. He was about to turn around and continue his search when he heard something that grabbed his attention.

“So you know Y/N, the girl who sits behind me in composition, well she asked me out on Saturday to the movies.”

“Oh dude no way!”

“Yeah and it was completely out of the blue. I mean I never would have guessed that she had a thing for me, but we had a great time. She said she would want to go out again.”

Brian, who had been standing behind the corner, felt his heart drop when he heard this. He hadn’t really told anyone, but from the moment he met you he had been wanting to ask you out, he just hadn’t figured out how. He thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, both inside and out, and wanted nothing more than to be around you all the time. He was rather shy by nature and typically didn’t take a chance if he wasn’t entirely certain of the outcome, but after talking with you on moving day he had thought that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way. He knew of course that he had no right to be upset, you could obviously date whoever you wanted, but he couldn’t help but feel crestfallen knowing that you weren’t going to be anything more than friends.

(5)

Checking his watch, Brian realized that it was ten minutes before your recital was set to start and he still had no idea where he was going. Realizing that it was his only option, he turned to the group of guys.

“Hi, I’m looking for the recital hall? Do you happen to know where that is?”

The boy who had been talking about his date with Y/N turned around to look at Brian.

“Yeah mate it’s just around that corner there and then take a left and it’ll be the set of double doors on your right.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Do you go here?”

There was no contempt in his voice but at his question Brian couldn’t help but feel as though he was accusing him of something.

“No,” he said apprehensively, “I’m actually here to see a friend perform.”

“Who do you know?”

“Um, Y/N... Y/N Y/L/N? Do you know her?” He grimaced internally at his question, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, she’s in my composition class. She’s real sweet, incredibly talented too.”

“Yeah I know,” said Brian, a little too quickly, “thanks for the directions.”

“Anytime,” he said, “I’m Trey by the way.”

“Brian.”

“Nice to meet you, Brian. And hey, wish Y/N good luck from me. I’ve got a class in ten minutes so I can’t go and see her play.”

“Yeah sure thing,” said Brian monotonously, as he turned to walk back down the hallway.

As much as Brian wanted to hate Trey, he knew he really couldn’t. He seemed nice enough, cared enough about Y/N’s life to know that he was missing her performance, and he had given him accurate directions. Brian found his way to the recital hall in no time, picking himself out a seat right in the front row. The turnout was what you might expect from a midday, midweek, student recital. The back of the hall was filled with students kicked back in their seats and glancing lazily at the clock every other minute, mostly likely forced to attend as part of their grade. The middle was quite sparsely populated with what looked like a few family members and friends scattered throughout, and the front was almost completely empty with the exception of four rather stern-looking people who Brian assumed were Y/N’s professors, and of course now him. He hadn’t been to see a classical performance in ages. His mother used to take him all the time to go and see the London Symphony when he was younger, but after starting secondary school and then uni and devoting all his time to his studies and his guitar he had stopped going. Now, sitting in the icebox of a theatre, he couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t belong.

A few minutes later, the performance began. It was a woodwind only recital so Brian sat through two clarinets, a saxophone, three oboes, and a bassoon, before it was your turn. When you finally walked onstage, Brian kept his promise and applauded so loudly that one of the professors turned to see where it was coming from. He didn’t care though, he couldn’t wait to hear you play. As you made your way over to the music stand you flashed Brian a smile, and he felt as though he was walking on air. God, he thought you were just perfect standing up there, completely in control of that stage. He wanted to run up the steps and hug you, kiss you, to tell you how much he adored you. How you should be with him and not Trey, but then you began to play and he was snapped back into reality. He didn’t recognize the piece, but it didn’t matter. Your sound carried through the hall with such vibrancy and clarity, and your fingers danced across the keys effortlessly. You made it look so easy, each movement more beautiful than the last.

(6)

As you brought the last movement to a close, Brian stood up and gave you a standing ovation. You knew it was overkill of him, but as you watched him fill the room with thunderous applause you couldn’t help but smile. You took your bows and with one more look at Brian, made your way offstage.

Twenty minutes later, the recital had come to a close. The last few flutes had performed but to Brian they paled in comparison to you. After a quick word with your professor and some scattered congratulations and compliments to your fellow performers, you made your way out into the audience. You saw Brian standing near the back, beaming as you half walked half ran up the stairs to him.

“So, what did you think?” you said, “it didn’t bore you too much I hope.”

“Are you kidding? Y/N, that was incredible!”

You blushed.

“I mean I knew you played well and everything, but that was just so beautiful. It was like you were singing through your flute, you’ve got a real talent.”

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” you said as you pulled him in for a hug, “what did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?”

Friend, Brian thought to himself, that’s all he would ever be to you.