I Miss It • •

[hendrix orwell astley]

Hendrix was not in the least bit fond of the cold weather that came with the season. If there was a way he could avoid it he would have done, but alas, he couldn’t leave his classes just because he was displeased with how the wind howled and the rain stung like ice when it fell. He had never liked it; not even when he was a little boy. He hated the numbness setting into his fingers, the chilled bite at his nose. Hendrix would rather be inside, somewhere warm, with good company and his music. It was what kept him happy, reminded him of what he had to offer in the world. His classes might not have been the most exciting on NYU’s sprawling campus, but no one could deny that they were taught with passion. Hendrix refused to teach anyone who thought they could breeze through his course. He would fail those who didn’t have a true drive for music. It wasn’t that he was a harsh professor, but more so that he refused to be wasted or walked over by anyone. He wasn’t an easy teacher. He expected dedication and commitment from those who enrolled with him. If they struggled, he was happy to help, but not let someone slide on through if they were simply lazy.

It was that exact topic he was thinking about as he walked aimlessly around New York City that cold afternoon. Part of him hated the bitter weather, a small voice telling him to go inside, to think about all of this somewhere warm with a hot drink and something sweet and crumbly. Yet the icy air kept him alert, stopped him from feeling distracted by all manner of possible things. Shoving his hands into his pockets, working his fingers around the cell-phone on the left and his wallet on the right, Hendrix shuddered against the cold and steeled himself against the gust of wind he knew would hit as he turned the corner. He wasn’t wrong. His hair blew back, and he closed his eyes against the icy blast. Too much. That didn’t help him consider the young man whose academic probation was looking poorer with each passing week. And it was Hendrix who had brought the kid to the attention of the powers that be.

As much as Hendrix hoped he could help the student like he had done with former pupils who had gone on to graduate, it didn’t seem to be the case. His attendance was poor, grades were hit and miss, and he didn’t appear to be interested in reaching out for more assistance. Honestly, Hendrix was starting to think that this was a kid who thought music would be an easy option. Maybe his high school classes had been about goofing off while a teacher sat back and tried to act like their friend. He got a kick in the teeth when he came to NYU and found out Hendrix was more teacher than buddy. He was all up for a laugh and some jokes, but only when he knew that his classes were capable of doing the work at the same time. Boundaries existed for a reason, after all. Hendrix spied a woman standing dead still in his path, seemingly staring at a window. Deciding he needed a brief distraction, if only for ten seconds until he spooked out a total stranger, he took a chance and ran with it. “Honestly, I hate anything that looks like it’d be comfier on a hanger.” He said, pausing just behind her to see what she was eyeing up. He was all for comfy clothes over fashion any day of the week, and preferred to keep company with those who thought the same.

• • •

TAGGED! Montana Harper Niall
WORDS! 628!
OUTFIT! Rebel Reporter!
LYRICS! Echo - - - Jason Walker
NOTES!

[Montana Harper Niall]

Montana had landed her dream job practically out of college. It was a small miracle in her eyes though her bosses all said she was meant for the job. It was an incredible gift and a huge undertaking but Nana was up for the job and truly loved it. She'd assumed it would take her a few years to climb the ladder to get even close to where she was now. She'd also been more than willing to climb that ladder because her heart was set on designing spaces for the people. She had never considered designing homes for people. She wanted people to love her space on a grand scale. While it might have seemed selfish and no doubt narcissistic on the surface, she felt like everyone should enjoy beautiful spaces curated for all and not for the individual. If she'd been approached about decorating a public space, she might consider it but for the time being, she preferred her window displays.

"And that is the very reason window displays exist." She pointed out with a smile. The clothing might have been on a mannequin but it was as close to a body as they could get. At least it wasn't a hanger on a rack. Visual people could imagine themselves in the clothing on the mannequins, they could see themselves in the scenarios she's created while they decided if they really needed what she was selling or not. Montana really didn't care if her displays sold clothing or décor, she only cared that they were a distraction from the mundane. The streets of New York could be colourful and beautiful but they could just as easily be cold and grey and just sad. She wanted to make those days seem a little less depressing. A bright window display on a rainy day but not seem like much but it put a smile on Montana's lips and at the end of the day, that's what mattered. She knew if she could smile at the idea when it was all put together, someone else would, too.

She had been raised around the fast world of fashion and theatre and while it was exciting, it was overwhelming. She'd loved being able to go over the holidays and whenever there was an available home weekend. The downside to boarding school, besides being away at boarding school, was little time for family visits. She got a weekend here and there so she spent them with her mother at the theatre but they were very few and far between. She would have preferred to spend them with her father but after the divorce, he'd moved back to New York where he'd been from. That was a stream of thought for another day and another time, however. She still needed to get that one corner of her window display just right. There was something a little off about it but Nana couldn't quite put her finger on it. That was why she was out on the street, to begin with; she'd needed a full view.

♦ ♦ ♦

TAG; hendrix orwell astley
WORDS; 510
LYRICS; Burning Up --Marianas Trench
NOTES; <3