Chapter 1: the deepest brown eyes
A/N: I don't own Austin & Ally or Van Morrison's, Brown-Eyed Girl.
His eccentric best friend said that his hair was platinum blond once he met his soulmate, and actually fell in love with her. Austin always knew that his hair was lighter than Dez's, but of course he never really paid any attention to it.
In his opinion, the entire thing was bogus.
There are approximately 7.6 billion people in the world—what are the chances that he'd meet his soulmate?
He was now a 21-year-old living in a rundown apartment in Manhattan, New York. Somewhere in between wanting to pursue a singing career and his parents pushing him to become the next heir to own Moon's Mattress Kingdom, he gave up with meeting the one. It didn't stop him from going out, obviously, being the guy who occasionally went out with some girl who was just as desperate to experience a proper relationship.
Now those girls he dated (who—somehow—have found their soulmate), weren't exactly the brightest of the bunch. He thought it'd be good practice saved for if he actually met his soulmate and he was let down by the type of person she could be.
But as he sprints off to the Greenwich campus for his harmony exam at NYU, cursing that the subway was closed along 9th Street for maintenance, he decides that he's got greater life hindrances.
Meeting the one could wait.
Even though the world was in black and white.
It was just 5 after 4 as Austin made his way to his personal favorite coffee shop for his reoccurring gig. Of course, being the musician Austin was, he found a way to pay his rent by doing what he loved, which was to play music. His parents often complained that he should get a real job and that poor Dez shouldn't be doing all the work.
The red-head stated that he didn't mind as long as Austin sticks to his half to pay the rent as he knew it was just his parents pushing him, again, to change his major from music to business.
He didn't care if they weren't supportive or not. It was his dream to make it in the music industry, not to sell mattresses all the way back in Miami.
And the boy was talented in the music department. He could play instrument—even a trumpet through another trumpet. He can instantly recognize any song being played and instantly identify the key of the song, the chord progressions, and added harmonies.
The one thing that Austin wished he knew how to do was to write and compose songs.
After constant trial and error, he realized that writing songs was not his thing. Sometimes he blamed his inspiration or the fact that he was mentally a 5-year-old, but either way, he cannot write songs. As for composition, he should be capable due to three years of harmony and counterpoint. Writing four-part melodies are one of Austin's many weaknesses (including chick-flicks because they always make him tear up). Currently it's what's bringing his harmony and counterpoint down to a 3.8 GPA, but his teachers sympathize that melody-writing isn't for everybody.
So instead, he settles for singing covers at the coffee house that smells of mocha and pine, throughout all the seasons.
It was a cold yet sunny winter evening in Manhattan, New York. The sunlight was hitting right in the perch of the doorway of the coffee shop as Austin opened the door resulting the bells to chime indicating someone has entered.
"Hey Austin." The dark-haired boy (who Austin was told by Dez that he had brown hair), Elliot, calls out, who continues to make a latte by the register. Over the years, as Austin came to perform 2-3 times a week, he was acquainted with the baristas who are now some of his closest friends.
"Hey Elliot, sorry I'm late. Had a huge harmony exam today," He groaned, disenthralled that he messed up his aural analysis of harmonic prolongation. "Let me just set up, and I'll get right to it."
"Okay, good luck!" He acknowledged before going to hand the latte to the customer.
He took his guitar out of the case, to this day in awe of the wooden texture of the acoustic guitar, beginning to tune the instrument, slightly cringing at the off-tune E. Damn, did I not tune this thing this morning? He turned the bottom-right tuning peg counter-clockwise to reduce to flat tonality of the note.
"Hey guys! I'm Austin Moon, and I'm here to perform some songs for you coffee—or hot chocolate lovers." He announced as the small crowd began to clap for him.
He sang some of his favorite acoustic songs ranging from the Rolling Stones to the 1975 as on-goers passed in and out of the little coffee shop, carrying their evening drinks and pastries to wherever their evening plans may take them. He knows a lot of them probably don't give two dimes over the entertainment, but he doesn't care (he also knows that there are some creepy girls who lurk around, asking for his number). All he needs is music.
It was 5 to 6, the sun was just setting and Austin was just finishing up his set. He decided that the last song of the day should be his all-time favorite, Brown-Eyed Girl. It was such a carefree song compared to the different songs people his age liked.
He sang freely as on-goers continued to smile and bop their head along with the song. He was just in the middle of the second verse, when...
He saw two piercing chocolate brown eyes staring right at him, at the door of the coffee shop in the golden aura of the sunlight.
so how was that? ah the next chapter will be up soon, hopefully yall enjoyed.
also, yes, I know all this stuff because I'm a big music geek, I play several instruments myself including the piano and guitar (even a trumpet—but not a trumpet through another one lol) but a lot of this is stuff I do for harmony, counterpoint, history for ARCT agh.
let me know what you guys thought lol, tumblr did this to me and I thought this au would be a cute idea.
sorry for inactivity, a lot of things happened over the past couple of months. stay safe and happy holidays!
