A/N: I actually had this completed last year then forgot about it... Sorta a year late? But Happy Belated Valentine's Day! This is a prequel to my other oneshot entitled 'Busker Boy'. Also, shout out to my beta reader Akiraki! Thank you for your help! As well as HNNKN77 for encouraging me to create a prequel and for being my faithful reader, I appreciate you :)


Dream Girl

It was nearing midnight.

For a concrete city like Heliopolis, the entertainment district's billboards were alight with ads of women and men strutting down a cement walkway wearing the latest fashions. Their struts went to the beat of conceptual hip-hop. College girls in tight skirts and studded platform heels stumbled across the major intersection, pretending they weren't drunk as they hopped from one club to another. A man in a suit, with his tie loosened and tossed to the side was caught getting kicked out of a bar, landing on his knees. His briefcase was thrown at his back. It landed with a thud.

Depending on where you stood or where you crossed, the smell of piss and shit might've wreaked havoc on your nose, or the tobacco and alcohol that tinged off elated passerby's breath would've done the same.

In an hour or so the subway trains were going to stop all service. Commuters from the outer suburbs would have to hail down a or stay the night.

Though the sky is pitch black, fluorescent lights that bannered establishments in pinks, greens and yellows, acted like the stars. The flashing ads that changed from one minute to the next replaced the invisible moon.

Beneath an open patio hookah lounge, there was a studio. Walk down the stairs beside the entrance of the place, and you'd be met with a sturdy red door that bore a metal sign saying STUDIO 54.

The interior of STUDIO 54 was a long hallway with yellow walls. There were doors with clear windows. Peek inside, and it was usually bands of different ages, renting out the space to be loud on strings, drums or whatever it was, without anyone complaining. Since it was almost the ticking of a new day, there was only that one odd band using one of the rooms.

He was grooving to the music. Bobbing his head, his body became the rhythm. He had that face on, the one where the brows scrunched in gentle concentration and his lips pouted in swagger. Anyone would know that the sound waves coming from the amps and the hollows of the drums penetrated straight through him in some lucid possession. It transformed his body, sang into his fingers as they moved across the fret board of his Gibson guitar.

There were no vocals being heard, but the music making was seduction. Everyone in the orange soundproof room felt that.

The drummer's veins popped from his muscular arms. He was topless as he pounded the drumsticks on the drums, going from one drum to another and sometimes hitting the cymbals with a clang. Beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead, blonde hair dampened by it. He was in the same trance too, following the main guitarists lead.

Their other member, the bassist, had her right hand plucking away at heavy strings of her instrument, whereas her left hand slid through the fret board controlling the strings. As if the sounds elicited had the power to push her body, she leaned backwards with the bass. Her long hair swayed along with it.

The youngest had an electric guitar in hand, different brand completely. His foot was on the amp as he played. His longish hair was tied back. Every stroke of his guitar allowed him to dance a little bit in his shoulders. He wanted to move his hips in unison but he couldn't fully do that, knowing it would disrupt his form.

At some points in time, the members all glanced at each other. It felt electric. They commanded acknowledgement that they've been doing something right this time around. Their leader was so into it. Everyone knew that it had been a while for him.

Despite all of them relying on each other with their talents while their music tastes informed their playing styles, there was only one individual that acted as their rock. And that was their leader…their ace: Athrun Zala, the one with the Gibson guitar.

While hours and minutes passed midnight, the session started to wind down, as did the zooming cars outside. Slowly but surely, their playing stopped. By the end of it, there was sweat on everyone's brow and other places of their bodies. It was good sweat. The tiny window that allowed other musicians to peer into their music session had fogged up. The whole band breathed a little heavily.

Silence devoured their amps and the hollow of the drums. Their ears rang. Members were taking in the echoes of their session.

The drummer, Dearka, spoke first. Forming a grin that stretched from one side of his face to other. He threw both drumsticks to the ground. "Fuck yeah that was sick!"

Shiho, the bassist nodded with a sly smile. Nicol, the youngest said, "Yes, it really was."

Athrun proudly looked at all his members, noticing their drained energy that hinted at exhilarated excitement. "Good work team, I think we finally got a song here."

They all agreed.

The guitarists placed their instruments on the stands, except for Athrun who left his guitar hanging from his body. He sat down, taking the wrinkled notebook from the floor beside the amp. "Time for some lyrics." He tapped a pen on the sheets. "We all felt the same vibe right? A sensual kind of longing? Maybe even love."

Dearka started laughing. "You? Writing about love, Athrun? You've got to be kidding!"

"When's the last time you had feelings for anyone?" That was Shiho, she sounded too concerned.

"Meyrin was your last girlfriend, and that was more than four years ago. You don't even go out with girls anymore." Nicol had a point. Athrun was too focused on the band to be spending his money on girls who didn't appreciate his artistry.

"Alright, alright, I get it. I'm unfit to write a song about love, attraction blah blah blah. But I could try, even with my lack of feelings."

The three others exchanged glances.

"Okay, guess we don't have a song anymore." Dearka.

"Yup." Shiho started packing up her bass.

"Aw, what a waste." Nicol.

Athrun hastily scribbled down something on the paper. "There I started," he proceeded to sing, "Darling, you should be with me. Why can't you see?"

Dearka made a fake vomiting sound, Nicol blushed and Shiho grimaced.

"Oh c'mon! I can't be the only one ever writing the lyrics." His band mates all avoided his eye. "I'm the main writer, but you guys can help."

"You know what, Athrun? Why don't you slide into some DMs, or go to a bar and find some chick then go crazy over her? I'm beginning to think you're sexless," said Dearka.

Shiho said, "I agree with him, it'd be nice to see you bearing some type of affection towards another person."

Athrun rested his guitar on the amp. He ran a hand through his damp hair. "Be careful with what you wish for. What if I find the girl of my dreams and I spend too much time with her? That'd be cutting into our band sessions and shows. We're trying our hardest right now to get bigger than ever. We can't let anything or anyone back us down."

"Dearka's got a girl but he is still one hundred and ten percent dedicated," countered Nicol.

"Make that two hundred percent! I've ditched her for band seshs many times." Dearka's proud smirk was met with a hit at the back of the head by Shiho. "Ow!"

"Anyways," said Shiho, "Let's get going before it hits 3am, our fee's going to be high."

That was the end of the discussion for now.

They all packed their belongings with top speed. Walking out of the rented room with their amps held in their hands and guitars attached to their backs (Dearka had his drumsticks in his fanny pack), they went to pay their fee, splitting it equally. Leaving the studio, they caught the cold breeze that cooled off their sweaty bodies.

It was 2:44 A.M, clubs and bar establishments had winded down. The four of them walked in twos to avoid having drunken people bump into them. Nicol and Shiho trailed behind Athrun and Dearka.

Dearka had lit a cigarette. "Herds of girls should be coming out right now, maybe you should approach one of them. Tell em' you play guitar."

"Dearka, they'd see just from this on my back." Athrun chuckled.

"Tell em' you sing too, that'd get em' wet."

"I'll just hand them a flyer to our next show."

"Jeez Athrun. What the hell's your type anyway? Not the cutesy ones anymore?"

"You could be right. I haven't really thought about it."

A pair of girls was walking towards them on the same sidewalk. The red head with the white mini dress clung onto the other girl. She had a sloppy gait as her head rested unsteadily on the other girls shoulder. It was a surprise that she hadn't broken her ankle in those pumps.

The other girl was a blonde with shoulder length hair and front bangs. She had a completely different vibe than her friend. She wore a black halter-top, matched with a black fur coat that slid down her arms, additionally she wore bright red athletic pants. And she was most definitely not drunk.

"I'm gonna text him! I dun caaare anymore!"

"Oh, don't do that."

"Yeah! You're right! I'll caaaall him!"

"That's even worse."

The girls walked passed them. Dearka commented, "That chick should be calling me, haha!"

Athrun looked to the dark sky above, illuminated by the high streetlights and billboards. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I figured out my type."

"What?"

"Did you see that girl, the blonde one? She's my type."

"Someone who looks like she could kick the living shit outta you? Sounds about right."

Athrun laughed a lot. Then Dearka and the rest of the band began to banter amongst each other.

Throughout their walk home, in the back of Athrun's mind, a lingering question remained. Did he really need a girl to write a love song?

Nah.


Athrun was in love with this girl.

She was nameless, but he knew that he would do anything for her. He had never felt so sure in his life.

In the darkness, moonlight bled into the room through the slits in the blinds. His lover sat beside him on on his bed in pajama shorts and a black halter top. An acoustic guitar rested in her arms. Her lips were bruised pink, cheeks reddened. Her left fingers on the fret board were bent properly over the first three frets, fingertips pressed on the strings. As she looked at her hand, her blonde hair fell like a curtain over her face. After a couple moments, she glanced back at him, hair no longer concealing that thoughtful expression.

Her brown eyes blinked. "Is this right, Athrun?"

He nodded, loving the fact that he was able to guide her. Moving closer to the girl until he was behind her, chest pressed against her soft back. He placed his arms around her with his right hand folding over her tinier one. Together, their right hands hovered over the sound hole. Between her thumb and index finger she held a red pick that bore his initials.

Athrun smiled, he was so close to her now that their cheeks touched. "Now strum," he whispered into her ear.

The girl looked up at him, lips parting. Her tongue slowly glided along her top lip, eyes became heavy.

His breath hitched in his throat. He liked this a little too much.

Go for it.

Athrun leaned in, closing his eyes, preparing to kiss her.

But as he was about to do so…

Whomp whomp WHOMP whomp whomp WHAM

She strummed without his lead.

It was supposed to be a gentle C-chord but instead it was the hard riff coming from an electric guitar!

"What in the – " Athrun woke up, eyes wide in confusion as he stared hard at the popcorn ceiling of his room. Then he looked down. The sheets over his body were hiked up like a tent in his lower region. A hard on, great.

Distracted by the rush of having to get ready for his boring day job as a mailman, he forgot about the dream he had that morning. However, for a reason he didn't care to explore, he felt ecstatic the whole day.


The rain trickled down from the darkened skies. Slickening the black pavement while the cornering gutters suckled it all up. The rain gave a strange scent in the Heliopolis' polluted air.

It had been a week since Athrun had that dream and a week since his band had that session. The dream left no inkling in his mind. Nothing mundane ever flipped a switch in his head to remember it. As for that band session, he hadn't begun writing new lyrics for the new song. Gunner Virgo (their band) had an upcoming show in the west end of the city. All attention and focus was on that, not on a song that would be scrapped for faulty lyrics.

Having finished work, he walked out of the postal office with a backpack on and opened up his umbrella. It was only two in the afternoon, but the streets around him were barren of people. Or perhaps they had retreated to the bars, boutiques or the restaurants unaware of the onslaught of rainfall.

Walking by his lonesome, Athrun shivered at the coldness that permeated the air. With his sensitive hearing, the rain went 'ta ta ta ta' onto his umbrella, making him hope that the rain would stop by evening before the band session. Carrying amps through the rain wasn't so good.

Athrun reached the nearest streetcar shelter and went inside. Closing his umbrella, he flicked it on the pavement to rid of loose raindrops. He thought he was alone, until he saw someone from the corner of his eye occupying the entire bench. There was muffled music being blasted from that direction. Deciding to take a look, he shifted his head as subtly as he could.

He saw a girl around his age. Her hands were clasped over her arms, her legs crossed tight. Her teeth were clattering. The rain had soaked her, from the blonde hair that stuck to her cheeks, to the long-sleeve shirt that clung to her body like a second skin, and from her jeans that went four shades darker.

There was a crinkle in her brow as she stared straight ahead. She was shivering, listening to her music through her ear buds.

His gaze traveled down to her pink lips. Without knowing it, he licked his own.

Athrun's ears burned. He just realized that he had been staring at her for too long.

Crap.

Attempting to look away, he caught the clear plastic bag beside her. He presumed it was hers. The bag had a small Vivi's Record Shop logo at the front. There were at least three records in there. The one he saw was a record with cover art that had a wooden background, and what appeared to be a smaller album falling in the corner. The smaller album had a female's open hand with a bitten apple resting on it.

Wait a second.

Athrun knew that album, even knew the artist.

Is that…?

His heart thumped.

A smile developed on his lips.

Soul, the Garden.

No one else knew of that band. Soul, The Garden was an obscure indie band that hardly had any recognition in their city. They were underrated at best. With Mayson's soulful voice blending in nicely with acoustic instruments and R&B beats, Soul, The Garden had an underappreciated sound.

Athrun needed to talk to this girl. He knew this was the perfect opportunity. But he wanted to approach her in a way that was not so typical. Within those twenty seconds of staring at the bag, then at her, he formulated a plan.

He snatched the earphones from his pocket, put one in his ear, then plugged it into his phone. Tapping his screen on, he selected the first song that popped up in his Soul, The Garden discography.

The consistent soft strumming began to seep into his ears. Then soon it was Mayson's first verse. Then the chorus played through, after that the second verse with the featured female singer's voice followed. In that one minute and 46 second interval, he hadn't moved from his spot! The whole time Athrun was gazing at her, trying his hardest to muster up the courage. The more he stared, the prettier she became to him. How was that possible?

Her music was blasting from her ear buds, which made Athrun think, She doesn't want to be bothered! Maybe I should back down now and forever hold my peace.

Then…

"How I feel about, how I feel about you. I'd like to tell you, how I feel about, how I feel about you, now or never…"

That sliced Athrun out of his thoughts, the chorus of Mayson's and the female singer's voice poured right into his ears and straight through his faltering heart. Giving him that extra dosage of courage that only alcohol could've provided.

No. I gotta do this. I can't let this moment slip away. He lowered the volume on his phone even more, straightened up his back. He walked towards the girl, like a soldier through the barricades.

She did not move, nor flinch. She hadn't noticed him.

Athrun cleared his throat then said, "Hey."

No response. Her music was probably drowning his voice out.

"Hey!"

Once again, nothing.

He tried his next best course of action, tapping her on her damp shoulder.

The rain had stopped, as if withholding its breath.

The girl's head turned to him, tilted up to see him clearly.

Their gazes locked. She tugged the earphones out both ears.

"Yeah...?" she uttered, her voice curious and low. Husky and kind of sweet.

Athrun opened his mouth. "Uhh…"

The only ear bud in his ear streamed out, "We're never ever – "

He yanked it out then exclaimed, "I listen to Soul, the Garden too! They're amazing!"

The girl's lips trembled a bit as they parted into a smile. Her eyes brightened as if ignited by a beautiful performance.

God, I think I've dreamt about this girl before.

She's my Dream Girl.

A wave of left over rainwater swooshed onto their feet. The streetcar had arrived.

Her previous expression was wiped out, now carrying one of worry. She looked to the streetcar then back to Athrun, "Is that the 35W?"

Athrun took a quick glance at it. Then nodded.

The streetcar driver honked its horn at them.

"Aw, shit! Thanks! " The girl hopped out from her seat, ran past Athrun then got onto the streetcar.

Athrun felt that the girl of his dreams just slipped through his fingers.

The streetcar started moving. Disappointed, Athrun sat back down on the seat that she had occupied just minutes before. It's been quite some time since he ever felt the need to get to know an attractive stranger.

Suddenly the window in the middle of the streetcar slid open with a bang. There, the girl appeared, her chin on its ledge. A grin embraced her cute face. She stuck out her thumb. "You've got good music taste!" she yelled out.

Athrun was about to respond back but the streetcar had zipped by.

Despite that, a lovesick smile was worn on his face. "Wow," he said, completely fazed. "Just…wow."

His phone rang in his pocket but not enough bring him back to reality.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Band practice still on?" It was Dearka.

"Yes."

"Why the hell do you sound like that?"

"Sound like what?"

"Weird."

Athrun dismissed it. "I'm going to write lyrics. That song's going to be called 'Dream Girl'."

"What?! We've got a show in four days, forget about it!"

"I can't. I think I met her."

"What!"

"Yeah, I…uh, hold on. Let me call you back."

"Wait-"

Athrun hung up. He had seen something glinting at him from the bench.

The records. That girl forgot her records. Athrun picked it up. Soul, the Garden's cover art shone.

One day, he thought to himself. I'm going to return these to her.

His heart had never felt so full.