It was cold outside but that didn’t matter to him. Kris pushed his hair out of his face as he looked up at the house through the window of the car. It was an old victorian style home; where the old fence out front had broken down a long time ago, and the weeds had grown against the house almost suffocating the peeling paint off the walls to reveal an odd shade of brown. To many It screamed “ stay away” but to Kris he was forced inside. He passed the “throw up house” as he named it, everyday on his way home from school, never did he think once he turned 10 he would be pushed against his will up the steps of the house and in through the doors, he never realised he would get used to the certain creak of the door when it was opened or closed and never did he realize that he would come to love the smell of the house or what it meant to him.

Kris slowly climbed out of the car and he walked over the dampened gravel he clutched his leather bound music folder close to his chest as he hunched over it trying to protect it from the rain. He walked quickly over the path trying not to run for fear of tripping and spilling sheet music everywhere.

Kris reached the big porch and climbed the stair that lead to the metal door. He didn’t bother ringing the bell:

“I’ve been here seven years and they say I can just walk in anyway”  is always his reasoning

He walked up to the wood door which towered over his head. Kris always liked the intricate detail of the tree, which was carved by hand, he found out, over the entirety of the door. Kris carefully pulled the door open, stepping inside, he was welcomed with a burst of warm air. Carefully shutting the door behind him Kris padded over to the giant living room of the home. Kris sat in a brown armchair across from the giant fireplace which currently held a roaring fire in its chamber. He could hear another student through the thin walls of the old home.

The door opened once more and a man dressed in a black suit and tie walked in, his hair was slicked back and a dark blue umbrella was being carried on his wrist. The man walked up to Kris, shutting the door once he entered the room and pressed an orange pill bottle into his hands. Kris took it and and nodded his head, placing his music folder on his lap, he opened his jacket and slipped the bottle into his inside pocket

“Does this one need to be taken with water?” he asked

The man shook his head

“Ok.”

Silence fell over the two, Kris looked out the window to see rain falling harder than usual for the middle of August. Kris heard a door behind him open and he turned over his right shoulder to see a child walking down the hallway, music folder in hand, the child noticed Kris and they bowed to him when they walked past the two men sitting.

“Kris !”

Kris jumped at his name as he always did. it would be something he would never get used to. Kris stood and walked from where the child came from, he turned to his left into a room at the start of the hall, as soon as he entered the familiar smells of rosin and wood filled his nostrils. Kris loved the smell, if asked he would say it was his favorite smell in the whole world.

Kris shut the door behind him and the eyes of his teacher from behind the piano followed him to the opposite side of the room, from which Kris chose the cello on the rack on the far right. Kris walked back to the center of the room and he sat on the uncomfortable, metal, folding chair facing the sleek black piano. Placing his music on his stand his teacher struck an ‘A’ on the piano. Kris placed his bow in his right hand and began to tune his instrument.

To many the cello sounds like an instrument of sadness. the sound of the aftermath of death. The scream from a person’s dry,cracked lips to try and wake the other, knowing the other’s eyes will never open again.

To others the instrument sounds scary, like thunder before a rainstorm. The ultimate drop of someone’s stomach and the rise of their blood pressure when walking through a dark haunted hause.

Kris closed his eyes and began to play, his left hand moving over the strings with ease without thinking.

He played almost the entirety of his piece when his teacher suddenly stopped playing. Kris opened his eyes and shook his left hand at his side, 7 years of playing the cello but it still made his hand hurt every time.

Kris looked at his teacher to see why she had stopped, when Kris heard the doorbell ring. His teacher, as if on cue, immediately stood and walked toward the wooden door which lead back into the hallway.

“Wait here.” she said.

As Kris nodded his teacher slipped out the door leaving it open behind her.

Kris placed his cello on its side and he stood, walking over to the other side of the room. He carefully checked the door to make sure his teacher wasn’t coming back soon. When Kris heard talking in the other room he quickly moved over to the piano. Carefully opening the glass jar which rested on top of the piano, he reached in and pulled out his favorite flavor from the jar of gummy candy. Orange. Kris ate the candy slowly letting the orange juice inside the candy gush inside his mouth.

Satisfied, he walked back over to his chair and looked over his music

“The piece is sad” Kris thought

“ It’s about the death of a friend but, yet, this music sounds happy. It's like the composer is almost happy to have their friend move on… It’s kind of strange.”

Kris sat back in his chair wondering what was taking so long, when his eyes drifted to the window, it was still raining but it was beginning to lighten up.

Kris lurched forward falling off his chair. He clutched the left side of his chest, and looked up to see the faded orange pill bottle half way across the room.

“must have fallen out of my pocket.” he muttered through gritted teeth, his breath was wavering and Kris felt the room was spinning around him, he wanted to close his eyes and rest, but he knew that would be counterproductive. Kris tried to focus on the orange bottle on the ground but it’s kind of hard to concentrate when your chest is so tight you can barely breath. Kris tried to crawl over to the bottle but with each movement Kris’ body screamed with pain. Kris finally managed to grab the bottle struggling to open it, his vision began to blur.

“ !” he accidentally yelled as he finally got the the bottle open immediately he swallowed the blue-gray pill and rolled onto his back, still clutching his chest, Kris tried to calm himself down and when he opened his eyes he found everything returned to normal.

Sitting up he closed the bottle and placed it back in his jacket. When he looked up to see the man with the slicked back hair standing in the doorway

“Everything alright in here Mr. Wu?” the man asked his solemn face staring at Kris, void of almost all emotion. Kris knew that even though this was his personal doctor, assigned to look after Kris at all times, the man still showed a bit of compassion, after looking after Kris for 17 years.

“Fine.” Kris answered

“Just um… you know.” he pointed to his chest and the man nodded

“Your teacher is meeting a new student today, so we're leaving early; no sense in staying when no ‘common person’ is around to teach you.” the man deadpanned

“When you’re done meet me in the hallway.” With that the man left the room shutting the door behind him.

Kris sighed and ran a hand through his hair slowly standing up he began to pack his things away.

Kris collected his music in his music folder and walked out the wooden door, but his doctor was nowhere to be found in the dimly lit hallway. He turned right and decided to walk back to the living room.

When he got there instead of his doctor Kris found a boy sitting on the brown chair across from the fireplace next to the window. The boy had short black hair and he was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a matching shade of jeans. The boy was also wearing a dark red beanie and with matching red converse.

Kris sat down on the couch nearest the fireplace and stared at the boy in front of him. The boy was sitting silently, hands folded in his lap

“He looks nervous” Kris thought

Kris leaned back on the couch and studied the boy’s face. The boy’s eyes were puffy like he hadn’t slept in days and the dark circles around them reminded Kris of a panda. The boy’s eyes also starred unmoving at the fireplace in front of him.

Kris leaned forward and waved his hand in front of the boy’s face hoping it would get him to break his trance, but the boy continued to stare, unblinking at the fireplace.

Kris sat back, confused, when he leaned forward to try again the boy mumbled something to silent for Kris to hear.

“Are you talking to me?”

“Is there anyone else in the room?” The boy responded still looking at the fire.

The question however wasn’t sarcastic at all and was more of an actual curiosity.

Kris looked around the dimly lit room, just to be sure.

“No” he responded leaning back into the couch.

“I said there’s no use in waving your hand in front of my face.”

Now Kris was really confused

“No use?” he calmly asked

“But you do realize you're just staring at a burning fire? You could damage your eyes.”  

Just then the boy’s entire face turned to look at Kris. Not just his eyes but his whole face moved with it like an owl whose eyes were too big for their sockets.

“My eyes are already damaged. I’m blind” the boy deadpanned

“Sorry I didn’t realize” Kris muttered

Silence fell in between them the only thing Kris could hear was the cracking of the fire and a cello and piano duet coming from further down the hallway.

“Brandenburg.” the boy muttered

“You recognize this song ?!”

“Of course, I can’t see well but I can still hear.”

There was a stillness between them which Kris found comfortable. He wasn’t used to this calm feeling between anyone before, ever since his parents died in the drunk driver accident, that Kris still blames his father for.

Kris clutched his music folder closer to his chest. The calm feeling between them scared Kris, however, he hoped maybe if he’d let the friendship happen Kris wouldn’t end up getting hurt and he wouldn’t lose a friend.

Like last time.

A/N 

Hello me again sorry this tookk so long but I hope it's good :)

it took me a long time to write this and actually have the confidence to post it 

*I started writinig it in august of 2015* 

truth be told im not expecting many people to like this but... anyway (ok self hate rant over) 

feel free to leave comments ! they make me happy and help keep me motivated to keep writing ! (and i will probably do a happy dance) 

but anyway enjoy !

~Ring-Ding-Dong