Author's note: So here it is. The much requested and sort of long awaited sequel to Somewhere In Brooklyn. As I find more songs, there will be more stories but every single one will be themed around a song just like the first one was. I already have a sort of basic plot line fore their relationship though, and a couple of songs, but I need a few to flesh out the middle before I really get into the story. anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it, and be sure to leave a review :)

' So um, just these and can I get a ten dollar vodafone top-up too?'
' Sure thing, darlin'. That all I can get you?' I rolled my eyes when the cashier winked at me and shook my head.
' Yes, Simon.' I said pointedly and he laughed as he started tallying up the cost of my groceries. I always came to this place on the way to Marshall's apartment, so I'd started to recognise the workers on shift, and most of them recognised me too. Simon was this sweet, but lonely old man who usually worked stocking in the cold section, and he had a habit of hitting on me that I didn't really mind. I mean, he had figured out by the bottles of cheap wine/ beer and expensive dark chocolate (Expensive for a student.)(Priorities. I have them.) that I inevitably picked up passing through there that I was on my way to someone. Which I was.

' Say hello to the lucky guy for me.' He told me good-naturedly as he passed over the brown paper bag and credit voucher, which I stuffed into the back pocket of my ripped black skinny jeans (they hadn't been ripped when I bought them, I'm just hard on my clothes.) I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him, and he chuckled gruffly as he started sorting my haphazard payment of coins and notes into the register. The bell above the door tinkled as I walked back out onto the street, shivering slightly at the blast of autumnal chill. I started to duck and weave through the crowd, heading to my boyfriend's place.
We'd been dating for about a month, but we don't really date by going out to places, at least not intentionally. Marshall spent almost everyday out on the street busking or jumping between producers looking for a label he actually likes. So he said he preferred to end they day ' Watching crappy TV with some kind of alcoholic drink in my hand and a sexy girl on my lap.'
Cheeky little squirt. I'd been kinda surprised when he admitted he was only nineteen, twenty in december. That made me about eighteen months older than him, but he looked about five years older than me 'cause I have such a baby face. Especially with the goatee and the stubble that scratched my cheeks raw when he kissed me. I didn't really mind though. The unkempt, rebellious look suited him. Though I wonder what he would look like if he shaved?

When I didn't have evening classes, I always ended up going to his place, something Cake appreciated enormously. I don't even want to know what she and Mauricio got up to now she doesn't have to worry about me overhearing. She and him had firmly claimed our flat as their couple space, so it was only logical for Marshall and I to use his place. He doesn't have flatmates ( "My mom covers rent payment as a token of affection *insert eye roll*, so that's not an issue. And I don't want to have to re-record a track because there's football or sex noises in the background.") So I could drop in whenever without fear. And though I'll never admit it, I appreciated being able to do that because it meant I knew he wasn't cheating on me. I didn't think he would but y'know, a rising musical star always has crazy groupies. Plus just knowing there was a place I could always go, no matter the reason. A second home, really.

Marshall-lee lived in an apartment block in downtown Manhattan (no wonder his mom payed rent) up on the fifth floor. It was the kind where you had to buzz at the steps to be let in. I pressed the button and waited for him to answer, wiggling my frozen fingers. It was getting really cold now as the sun disappeared behind the skyscrapers and the streets plunged into shadow.
' Yo, is that who I think it is?' I smiled briefly at the familiar deep baritone voice.
' If you were thinking the pizza guy, then I'm sorry to disappoint you.' I heard him laugh, the speaker crackling slightly.
' You're never a disappointment, baby girl. I'm recording right now though, so be quiet 'kay? Door's unlocked.' He told me, before the intercom deadened and I heard the mechanical whine of the main door unlocking. I pushed inside and walked into the elevator, sighing gratefully at how warm the inside proved to be. I put the groceries on the floor of the elevator and took off my red scarf as I rose noiselessly through the building.

When I walked up to his door I could hear a faint beat and a somewhat familiar guitar intro playing, so I went inside as silently as I could and put my brown bag of stuff on the kitchen bench and dumped my thick navy blue jacket on the couch.
Marshall's apartment was small but it felt larger than it actually was because of the way he spaced things out and also because it had very high celilings. Like all the horizontal space had become vertical instead. It's fairly unadorned and standard at first glance, but look a little closer and you would notice all these hidden details that give away his predisposition for gothic, old fashioned styling. Like the fact that the lights on the walls are converted candle brackets made of elaborately styled iron, or that the central light is only a few additions away from practically being a chandelier. There are band posters all over the walls, and stands for his old guitars in one corner. One whole wall is glass, and the place isn't colourless (He has a red sofa, which is actually pretty uncomfortable. That was why I always stole his blankets and sprawled all over him. He's much comfier) So it simultaneously felt mysterious and complex due to the gothic accents, while still being welcoming and sort of familiar. Kind of like Marshall, honestly. Or maybe that's just me.

I recognised the song Marshall was playing, a cover of a tune that was pretty popular on the radio right now. So I tiptoed over to his studio door and pushed the door open, grateful that it didn't squeak. I'm seriously addicted to watching him play and listening to him sing. He's skilled and graceful in the way he plays, and he has a surprising level of control over his voice. Though that sometimes fell away when he got really into it. I'd nearly cried listening to him picking 'The Freshman' after a bad day. He has that level of charisma and I don't know, some sort of mystical quality that means if he wants you to, you'll believe every single word that leaves that pretty little mouth. That quality better be confined to his singing, though.

'...I swear I'll behave

You wanted control
So we waited
I put on a show
Now we're naked

You say I'm a kid
My ego is big
I don't give a shit.'

He had his back to me, facing the microphone and he was nodding his head in time to the music. I noticed that his hips were shaking slightly to the beat, and I quickly clapped a hand over my mouth before I started giggling. Hehe.

' And it goes like this, uh
Take me by the tongue and I'll know you
Kiss me 'till you're drunk and I'll show you
All the Moves Like Jagger
I got the Moves Like Jagger
I got the Mo-oh-oves Like Jagger.'

I couldn't help but laugh at the subconscious little pelvic thrust he had done when he finished the chorus, giving myself away. Marshall-lee looked over his shoulder and saw me watching, both hands over my mouth but still failing to contain the giggles. He smirked and purposefully wiggled his butt at me, before stopping the recording and pausing the bass track.
'Sorry, I couldn't help it. You just looked so cute.' I admitted once I could talk. Marshall-lee stuck his tongue out at me then put his hands on my waist and proceeded to put that tongue to good use.
He was a brilliant kisser. Like, every girl says that about their boyfriend for the sake of competition, but he actually is. Maybe it's a natural talent, or maybe he's just had a lot of practice. He hadn't told me about his romantic history yet, and I hadn't mentioned Tiro to him either.
It probably wouldn't come up until I agreed to stay the night and I'd have to admit that it would be my first time not just with him but with any guy. Awkward as it would be. (Tiro had pressured me for it, and by the time I was actually willing to give it up he had moved on. I was moving too slow for him, it seems.) Marshall hadn't explicitly asked for sex yet, but he'd asked if I would stay the night a couple times (which was subtle. Not.) and he made it pretty clear that he would be more than happy to move into his bedroom when we're making out. But to be completely honest, I'm actually a little scared. Which is normal I suppose but.. Yeah.

' Cute is a word that is banned when you're describing me. I'm not cute.' He said when he broke away, the spark of warmth and humour clear in his deep brown eyes. In certain lights they turn an almost reddish colour, which is fascinating to watch. It makes him look like some kind of demon, but a sexy one. A succubus.
' You're so cute.'
' Rude.' He replied then shut me up by kissing me again.

' So what did you bring this time, eh?' He asked, letting me go and going into the kitchen with me to help put away the food. We took turns cooking when I came over, which he was surprisingly good at. I'm getting better. Not perfect, but on my way. Frequently, my contributions were more of the assemble and enjoy type instead of the made from scratch creations he produced. It literally isn't fair how good he is at everything. Except for applied mathematics, but I ain't holding that one against him.
' My turn for the rent, so no wine today. Sacrificed that for the sake of chocolate.' Marshall took out the six pack and shrugged, putting it into the fridge.
' Priorities, baby. Though I appreciate a bottle of red.'
' Exactly.' I agreed, handing him a block of sixty percent dark. God, I love dark chocolate. Right up there with hazelnut coffee. Nutella practically sends me into a coma of ecstasy, I eat it straight out of the jar.
' And I got an internet recipe for satay chicken which I wanna try.' I said, showing him my packet of microwave rice, a jar of peanut butter, a packet of chicken thighs and some spices I had been very surprised to find were in our cupboard at home and still good. Both of these facts were unlikely at best, put together it was near-miraculous.
' You want my help?' Marshall-lee questioned, reaching for the peanut butter. I pulled it in to my chest and turned away from him slightly.
' No, I wanna do it. Besides, you were busy covering that song. Go back to shaking your ass- sorry, playing your guitar.' I told him cheekily, putting the chicken down on the bench. Marshall dodged around me and started tickling my sides. I spasmed and immediately tried to get him to stop, and he managed to grab the jar of peanut butter in the midst of the struggle.

' Yoink. I'm guessing you don't need the whole jar.' Marshall replied in a similar tone, opening it up and grabbing a teaspoon that had been languishing in the sink. I rolled my eyes at him as he ate a spoonful.
' True class, Mar.'
' Always, darling.' He retorted, eating another spoonful then throwing the jar back to me. I caught it and put it on the bench, turning away from him. Which proved to be a bad idea, as I jumped and yelped when he smacked my butt a moment later.
' I'd rather you were shaking your ass. I like these jeans.' He murmured in my ear, giving me a peanut-buttery kiss on the cheek before prancing back off to his rec room laughing as I grumbled and wiped my face. I went into his fridge and searched in the vege draw for some onions, then mentally rolled up my sleeves (I was wearing a lace-edged singlet with a blue knitted button up vest over the top, so no actual sleeves were avaliable.) and literally tied back my hair.
Let's do this.

Oh and by the way, there is a shitload of foreshadowing in this chapter as to the rest of the story. I'll just let that sink in, then I'll be waiting for you in the next chapter after you've finished re-reading this one to figure out exactly what it is xD