Seven

I eat lunch with Tao and allow him to do most of the talking. He isn’t like me. I see it right away. He has so many varied interests and desires while I have none. I have never thought of the future further than a day nor have I ever tried to do anything other than play. At this point I find myself confused about whether it was my idea or mother’s that I start anyway.

I make a mental note to ask.

But Tao, he plays viola, yes, but he also does other things as well and his passion did not lay in one place. One thing in particular was his martial arts. I didn’t really understand what he was describing but I could read the feelings from his eyes. I wanted to see it.

After eating we separate. Classes and everything feel so normal but at the same time changed. My normal is numbness and suppression. My normal is not hope. It is the absence of it and any other positive feeling. But today, rather than the usual bitter and tortured feelings I felt none. The normal numbness remained, as did the faint throbbing of the walls, though not as strong as yesterday. Perhaps, it was the feeling of no longer being alone in the world. Before it was just my violin but from today I have Kai and Tao.

I feel light too and it shows in my playing. Kai may be a demon or a muse, but whatever he was and whatever he did worked. Music is pouring out of me through my arms and fingertips.

After class I feel my stand partner’s curious eyes on me and I can decipher his feelings of wonder. I glance over and he looks away.

We don’t talk. We rarely do but I can always sense his jealousy. Today is no exception. As I am in the middle of packing the bell chimes and he stands and walks away. I know he’s worried. We’re both new in the school and have no choice but to be 2^nd violinist, but the first chair of the section we both covet.

I don’t aim for praise. I never do. I play always with a different focus entirely. Still, when one plays as much as I do there is a certain amount of expectation. There can be nothing less than first. I won’t let him take it from me.

Today I have made no plans to return home after school. I hear the chatter of classmates making other plans to meet later at various establishments: cinema, shopping arcade or café, but I won’t be going. They already know not to ask.

I stand and sling my case over my back. The weight of it settles snuggly against me and I walk towards the door. I’m going to the practice room and I’m no longer afraid. The pulsing has quieted since yesterday and besides it only reminds me of Kai who I refuse to fear.

“Oh Sehun.”

I turn and see Tao coming towards me.

“Are you coming to chamber today?”

And I had forgotten about that. All of the previous desire to please Tao had already left me over the course of the day. I just want to practice on my own and I say so.

“Well, you said you’d join.”

“I said I’d think about it,” I clarify.

Did I say I’d join? I cannot for the life of me remember but that’s when I see a dark look come over Tao’s usually bright countenance.

“Tao?”

He brightens again and smiles. There is laughter like the tinkling of bells in his voice when he replies.

“Ah, well. Enjoy your practice. Think of it, OK!”

I’m a bit taken aback by the sift switch in his mood but I nod and he seems so happy that I must have imagined it. That dark cloudy expression doesn’t belong to Tao I surely imagined it. But as he walks away I feel a bit of worry.

Was I being a bad friend? I’ not used to this. I’d never had a friend even as an elementary student I preferred practice to the company of other children. Or I liked other musicians, like mother or uncle. I liked to sit on their laps as they played piano or by their sides when I got too big. The way it felt to be beside them as they played—

A shiver runs through me and I feel a bit nauseous at the possibility. Mother always said she never met a child like me in all of her years teaching piano. She said it was like I craved music. It was nourishment for me.

I admit I resent mother. I resent uncle too. Father doesn’t understand us because he has no understanding of music but mother; I blame her for it all. She adopted me, placed the violin in my clumsy hands and cursed me with music. I didn’t see it any other way. Even though I can’t stop playing I long since quit talking to her. Really talking. She only ever speaks to my shell.

But if Kai is right, is it really her fault at all?

I suddenly feel the need to apologize.

I hate myself for taking the things Kai has said at face value. I should be more critical. Am I so desperate that I’d even trust a demon?

But I feel as if there are correlations. The symptoms of starvation/hunger have gone down though not completely vanished since Kai fed me. How often were these types supposed to even feed?

I’m nearly to the practice rooms when Kai appears before me. He looks happy and his clothes rumpled and hair damp. He’d probably just finished dancing and showering.

“He greets me, “How has your day been coming along?”

It’s small talk, something that I hate, so I don’t even bother to respond.

“Kai,” I merely say to acknowledge his presence.

He moves smoothly to my side like he’s gliding and I wonder if it’s because he’s a demon or a dancer.

“How about we grab something to eat?”

“I was about to practice,” I reply.

He grins, “Good. Good.”

It’s unnerving. I don’t want to please him or do his will and his interest in my can be interpreted as disturbing. I don’t want to play for any reason other than just doing it. I am having second thoughts about this new development in my life.

I push past Kai and continue down the hall pretending like I don’t hear him calling behind me.

Throughout the day I could feel it in me: passion. It didn’t particularly move me. My heart does not beat any more rapidly nor do my thoughts function much differently. It was my body. It played with a clarity that matched me on my best of days. I felt it and my stand partner did as well. The effects of Kai’s influence on me still lingers though not as pronounced as the moment he was actually in me.

I don’t want to admit it but the way I play now pleases me immensely. Though I have no goals this improvement in me has me curious about my potential.

I’m so absorbed in my thoughts that I don’t even realize I’ve entered the practice hall until a rather strong pulse beats in my head. It’s so heavy, especially since I haven’t felt anything but a calm hum the entire day. Whatever this is it’s different from everything else encountered, similar in intensity to what I’d felt the other day. The hall feels hot and the air seems to ripple with feelings and at first I hear nothing but as I strain to listen my feet walk towards the sound of the shrill violin. I can feel the notes being played rather than hear. It’s Brandenburg’s Concerto no 5.

My feet stop in front of the practice room door. My palms. When did they begin to sweat? When did this lump begin to form in my throat? I don’t know and I also don’t know why my pule is matching that of the room. The source is behind that door and I can hear it now as I’m standing in front of it.

I reach a clammy hand out and the lever of the door beckons towards me. I touch it and hiss, my eyes sliding shut as an all too familiar washes over me. But no, it’s not quite it. It’s not the feeling; it’s the anticipation of it. Whatever is behind that door can give me what it is I desire.

I let go of the door knob and my body is buzzing not having yet received what it is instinctually craving. I know this feeling. I once hated it because of what it did to me. I blamed it for the faults of my life.

The music continues and I stare debating my next move. Do I enter and see the source of it all? This is suffering. I don’t like being aware of my body or feelings. I enjoy the numbness. I refuse to indulge in this any longer.

I turn on my foot to leave. It’s best I get away from here. I can practice at home.

And what’s so ridiculous about this is that I’m getting no enjoyment from it and yet I’m still trying to practice. This is truly suffering! I am a slave to the music I play. If there ever be a case concerning my addiction let this be it: it is not choice it. It was a cruel fate. I have been ensnared since birth.

Music! Cruel music! I could never love music. I just need music. That wicked drug is the only thing to make me me. My soul dwells in this purgatorial shell with the single purpose of playing. Flesh is violin and violin became flesh.

The concerto on the other side of the door is coming to an end. I can tell of course. I have it all memorized. I am surprised such a skilled player is playing it at all. It’s far too simple, but then again I too find it lose myself when I revisit a simpler piece.

It’s rude to interrupt someone’s practice. I must get going. Finally, I will myself to walk away. The further away I get from the room the duller the throb becomes until I reach the atrium of the building and it’s barely a pulse. But it’s weird. I’d never noticed until now that the different wings of the school breathe with its own life and color.

Performing arts: music, dance, drama, they all have their own different pull. I find the others to be intriguing but not worth deviating from my path. I must get home to play.

It’s a singular one track goal despite the fact I’ve already essentially been playing all day.

I’m almost out of the gate. I see others heading home too. I wonder if they can read how frantic I feel. I sense that my eyes must be dilated. Why must music affect me so?

That’s when I spot Kai up ahead. He’s with two other boys laughing. I wonder how he can laugh. If he is a demon then there is no reason for laughter and if it’s true that he’s like me then how can he find the will to enjoy himself despite the suffering?

The possibility of the existence of muses weighs heavily upon me as both a blessing and a curse. Blessing that I should finally be able to put a name to my affliction but a curse in that I know how I live despite hating what I must live for.

I watch Kai as he continues to walk. It isn’t because I want to be with him. I am grateful his attention is elsewhere. His attention is sometimes a burden but I can’t help but be curious about the life of a demon.

Kai must have sensed my stare though because he suddenly turns and when he sees me smirks and waves. I blush at having been caught. I didn’t intend for this bit I’m grateful he doesn’t come over. He just waves from afar but then I noticed he glances upwards and stops, the smirk falling from his face, becoming a frown. I turn and follow his eyes to a second floor window but no one is there.

-to be continued-

AN: as you can tell I have no beta *cough* anyway who was it that sehun sensed in the room!? what was that source of energy? dun dun dunnn also who did Kai see in the window? wh was he like "oh noes" about it? next time on dragonball z!

Thanks for all the comments, subs and everything!

Edit: This story has been reviewed here! They gave a very favorable review. Thanks so much