I originally posted this first chapter on Tumblr for CS AU month, not sure if I wanted to continue it or not, but I checked it back over tonight and thought that it was something worth pursuing further because I have so many ideas. I was inspired after watching Burlesque one night to combine the two worlds, so I certainly hope you enjoy it!
He fell with a dejected huff into a stool at the bar, mumbling his order to the bartender and waiting for the glass of rum that would hopefully render him blissfully unaware enough to forget about the day he'd just had…or rather, the life he was currently living.
No jobs. Of course there wouldn't be any jobs. How could he expect to find a job in Los Angeles, of all places, by far the busiest city he'd ever visited? It wasn't enough that he'd left Ireland with hardly a dollar to his name in pursuit of some crazy dream of being a songwriter. No. He had to prove his father right. The father who abandoned him when he was a teenager, telling him that dreams never amount to anything and fleeing in the middle of the night to avoid arrest for crimes the likes of which Killian never desired to know.
He'd lost his inspiration. His passion. He was chasing a dream that no longer seemed to belong to him. It was the only goal, the only aspiration he'd ever sought to achieve, but somewhere along the way, he'd lost his heart.
He threw back the rum, savoring the burn in his throat as he tapped the glass on the bar, attempting to signal the bartender, who seemed to be pre-occupied flirting with the rather scantily clad waitress. It was at that moment that he heard it.
A voice. An incredible voice, slicing through the silence so smoothly that the beauty of it seemed to cut through him, straight to his core. He grasped his chest, never knowing such a satisfying pain before in his entire life, never hearing something so incredibly perfect that had he been standing, he would have fallen to his knees. There were no words…at least, not at first. Just several long belts with flourishes that transitioned effortlessly from one note to the next, a full voice supporting each and every one.
He exhaled the breath he'd been holding in, slowly spinning around on the stool for fear that if he moved too quickly, it would all be a dream. When he finally allowed himself to look up, in the direction of the voice, he knew that what he was seeing couldn't possibly be real. Standing at the center of a stage, bathed in crimson light, was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on, producing the most unbelievable voice he'd ever heard. Her long golden curls were draped around her face, the emerald green of her eyes visible from where he sat at the back of the room. She wore black leather from head to toe complete with knee-high boots that hugged her long, perfect legs. If he hadn't been entirely mesmerized by her voice, he was now overwhelmed by her total being.
Pardon the way that I stare
There's nothing else to compare
The sight of you leaves me weak
There are no words left to speak
So if you feel like I feel
Please let me know that it's real
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you
He knew the song. The words registered somewhere in the back of his mind, but she could have convinced him that they all belonged to her. He sat paralyzed by wonder, knowing that if he never heard any sound but her voice, never focused his gaze on any other sight but her, he would still be complete. She had awakened something in him that he'd long since lost. He could almost hear entirely new melodies being written in the sound of her voice, words forming themselves out of thin air and streaming throughout his mind. He never believed in muses…in fact, as a child he scoffed at the folklore of the leannán sí, a fairy being that craved the love of mortals who found inspiration through her. But there was no doubt in his mind that this woman was a muse sent to inspire his heart.