Author's Note:

The following is a note I left when originally posting this story on Winglin almost four years ago (I can’t believe it has been that long…).  Anyway, I decided to include it to remind me why I decided to repost on asianfanfics… ^_^  Thanks for reading!

AUR(author’s useless rambling…feel free to skip down to Andrea POV for the real fanfic!) – Sorry, it’s been a while since I updated…. I’ve had AP exams for the last two weeks and the teachers are piling on last minute work to be done before summer break.  I even got asked to prom…(even though didn’t go ^_^’)…and the person who asked me was part of my inspiration for Micky’s character here….so I’ve got a bit of inspiration left in this poor, overworked brain that has been overflowing with useless US history and biology facts lately. Anyway, now that I’ve vented, enjoy!

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~Andrea~

Everything slipped back into place so easily.  It was almost as if nothing had happened at all.  The only difference between Micky and I was something I attributed to my overactive imagination.  After the incident with Carina, there was a more intense aspect to our comfortable relationship. Whenever the two of us didn’t have a class, if you found one of us, you’d almost always find the other.  It wasn’t that I didn’t have other people to talk to.  I just preferred to be with Micky. 

There was something about him, and about us, that was different than any other friendship I’d been involved with in the past.  Honestly, I hadn’t had a best friend since the first grade.  We never talked about how close we were….that we had somehow become best friends.  There didn’t seem to be a need to voice the subtly obvious.  To me, Micky was like my saving grace.  Odd, considering the rough exterior, but beyond his signature baggy jeans and sweatshirt, he was one of the nicest people I have ever met. 

Usually, the people who take the initiative to talk to me either need help with their schoolwork or someone to listen to their problems or useless chatter.  Micky didn’t.  He wasn’t very concerned with his grades, which were mediocre at best.  He did talk to me, but he made sure I did some talking too.  Somehow, I could have a normal conversation with him.  I told him stories that I would never tell anyone else.  If the setting or mood was right, we could spend hours in deep conversation.  But mostly, being with him made me feel like ME.  Not the person I was for everyone else, but the person I really was…the person I had lost somewhere.

Anyway, after all the drama with Carina calmed down, Micky took a job as a janitor for the school.  Surprisingly, he got paid pretty well.  Plus, the job was convenient for him.  Although he never really complained to me, I knew his home life was tough.  From bits and pieces he had let slip in conversation, I knew his parents weren’t on the best of terms and his family needed money.  Even if he never said anything, I knew he worked really hard to help them all get by.  Micky hated to feel like a burden.  His work at the school could take hours, and I think a couple of kids looked down on him for it.  I know he wasn’t in love with what he was doing to earn money.  He may have even hated it, I’m not entirely sure.  But I think what got him through was having the piano practice room all to himself in an empty school once he was done mopping the floors and taking out the garbage. 

I had stayed after to meet with my AP Biology teacher to study for the upcoming exam. Like the last time I had heard Micky playing his music, the halls were empty.  Also like before, his music made my entire soul swell.  I made my way down the hall and to the practice room.  He had left the door open so I stood leaning against the frame, watching him.  He played for a few more minutes that beautiful, slow melody before sliding his hands across the keys in a piano slide.  He grinned at me and shook his hair from his eyes. 

“Do you like it?”  He asked, placing his hands in his lap.  I nodded and sat next to him on the bench. 

“Did you compose it?”  He nodded, carefully watching for my reaction.  I bit the inside of my cheek for a moment, staring down at the keys.

“Would you teach me how to play it?” 

“Boh?  I mean, what?”  He said, surprised.  I laughed and tucked my hair behind my ears.

“I can’t play anything.”  I said.  “I’d be happy if I could play at least one song.”

“But this one?”  Micky asked.  “I’m flattered that you like it, but don’t you want to play something people will actually recognize.”  I glanced up at him.

“Maybe in a few years this will be.” 

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~Micky~

So if I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now.  I didn’t think of music as anything but an escape before I met Andrea.  When she suggested that the song I wrote and played that day might be something people would recognize someday…it was a bit shocking. I shrugged it off and laughed.

“I don’t think so.  But if you really want to learn it…I’ll show you.”  Her eyes kind of lit up and she tipped her chin down and smiled at me.  She had little, cute gestures like that.  Not flirting, notice-me actions, but oblivious quirks because she was shy.   

“Really?”  I nodded.

“Right now.”

“Now?”  She said, looked around.  I nodded again.  The bag she had on her lap slipped to the floor and she kicked it to the side. 

We spent hours in the practice room.  Me teaching her where to put her hands.  The timing and chords.  She couldn’t read music and had never played before, but she was dead set on learning the song.   And, because she was never the kind of person to submit to failure, she learned it.

Weeks later I listened to her play the song she had put so much effort into learning and I was so happy. 

“Congratulations Miss Valedictorian.  You learned your first song on the piano.”  She laughed.

“Thanks for teaching me, Maestro Micky.  Sorry, I’ve got absolutely no music sense.”  I shrugged.

“That’s alright.  If you were a genius at this too, I would definitely develop an inferiority complex.”  She snorted and rolled her eyes. 

The longer I knew Andrea, the more I learned about her.  To have gained her trust, her concern, her friendship…I’m very thankful.  She was the only water, my oasis, in that place and time I hate so much today.