A/N: My first Ouran fic! Written for the Ouran contest over at LJ. (Drabble Twelve:Musical) I was originally going to make Hikaru the main character, but switched it over because Kaoru doesn't get much love! It would have worked, either way. EnjoyR&R
The title originates from a song usually acompanied by a string instrument or orchestra of some sort.
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Aria
Listen;
Can you hear it?
The will of courage yearns to sing
If there were only someone
Who would listen
I'm sure the melody will continue
to resonate in the souls
of the fainthearted
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"Fujioka, give it up. You know you can't sing."
When my junior high teachers broke the news to me, I could safely say that it was during that time when I had decided to give up on music. I didn't mind though; it wasn't the world to me, after all. There were no intentions of me ever exposing my private life to the beings on the face of this planet.
To me, music was dead. Vibrations suspended in the air would cease to touch me. The melancholy of a rhapsody has never grasped my attention. Nature calls are instantly drowned by these inner voices swirling around my head.
In other words, there was no place for music in my life.
I had already told this to Tamaki-senpai, who had asked me to listen to him play the piano one mild, spring afternoon. The disappointment he held was obvious, but hackneyed as well. I had always let him down one way or another when I refused to go along with his foolish requests, but little did I know how this one was different from those other times.
"Tama-chan used to play for his mother all the time. I bet playing the piano reminds him of her," Honey-senpai told me. "You know Haru-chan, you should think about what you say before saying it. I think you hurt Tama-chan's feelings."
"How?" I inquired, caught off guard by his accusation, "I just told him my view on music, that's all."
"Oh, Haru-chan," he sighed, shaking his head in weary. "When someone is there to look forward to what you do, I think it makes it easier for that person. It's not that you insulted his music – it's because you didn't bother to listen."
"I still don't understand."
"Then…maybe you'll understand later," he said as he ran off to catch bell.
But I didn't want to understand it later, because I knew that it would irritate me for the rest of the day. I didn't want to wait until it was that time. I wanted to understand now.
It wasn't until the following evening, when I had unintentionally forgotten my homework in class that the truth would begin to dawn on me like the new day.
That morning, I had survived the wrath of the Hitachiin twins' (aka little devils,) who bombarded me with at least a million biology and trigonometry questions. I figured that was the reason for my homework absence. Then again, it just never ended with those two.
So that night, long after dusk had fallen had fallen, I traveled to school using methods I usually chose not to take (there was no other way of transportation during that hour.) Even after finding my way to school, the interior became a whole other story. With nothing but darkness looming about (and maybe a little help from the moon and stars,) I ventured through the maze of locked doors and blocked corridors to reach my classroom. I knew I should have brought a flashlight.
After a few minutes of pacing around testing every class I had during the morning hours, the homeroom ended up not being too hard to locate. Despite the obscurity of sight, it was okay.
I started down the empty passageway. My classroom was up ahead, the third to last in the hallway.
That's about the time it: a pleasant, singing-like, reverberation from a string instrument. A violin, perhaps. The mysterious melody echoed through the hallway, which were certainly empty during non-school hours. It haunted me, the way it danced with the strands of moonlight streaming through the pillaring windowpanes (those amazed me as well, the height of it all.)
But nobody stayed after school hours this late, and I knew this for fact. Everyone must have been at home: where else would they be? If that were so, then who would be reciting classical pieces in the middle of the night after school hours?
Apparently, the music resonated from the very place I was headed towards. Oh, the irony. What was even more ironic was who happened to be playing it.
"Kaoru?"
He halted his session, but kept his position and attention towards his violin. The expression he wore was much less surprised than my own, however. "So you were the noise… that's interesting." It sounded more like what Kyouya-senpai would say to me. Coming from Kaoru, it was simply…awkward.
"What are you doing here? It's past school hours, if you haven't realized," I said with a tint of malice, though I wasn't sure if he would pick up on it.
"Forgot my violin in the class. Need it for tomorrow morning."
"That doesn't explain why you're sitting in the middle of the room, practicing," I pointed out.
The instrument was rested in its case, the insides lined with purple velvet to prevent any damage. It looked relatively well kept, despite a few tears here and there. "I just felt the urge to practice. The moon is full today, and I play well on nights like these." His eyes wandered to meet mine. "Would you like to hear?"
I felt my own eyes straying from his as they ended up looking around the room. "Um, sure." I didn't quite know how to respond to that, but why not? I figured there would be no harm.
Kaoru picked up his violin, well polished and refined. The poise he held gave off a dignified appearance, such as those of royalty. Gentle eyes, gentle posture, gentle smile. Even as he performed, it was with such grace. It pitied me to think that I didn't know of this hidden talent of his until now, and after how long have we known each other?
But there was something peculiar in the tune I couldn't quite point out. Was it a mistake? Or perhaps it was just I?
By the time he had finished his solo, I was still in awe, nonetheless. My applause caused his checks to shade a light blush (or so I thought: the lack of light made it harder to decipher.)
"That caught me off guard, Kaoru. I hadn't realized you played the violin. And so well, too!" I praised him.
He shook his head. "Nah, it wasn't too good. I didn't feel anything in particular about it this time."
"I think it was fine. What is there to feel, anyway?"
"You have to feel the rhythm in your veins, Haruhi. Sheesh, you couldn't have possibly failed music class, did you?" He shook his head in feigned dismay. "Tsk tsk!"
I rolled my eyes. I'll admit it: I wasn't the best at music, but that didn't mean I was totally clueless about it.
"I know it wasn't too good to begin with. All of my sessions have been like this. That's why I was thinking of quitting."
"Wha? Kaoru, but you really can play the violin well, believe me. Just because things aren't going well for you now doesn't mean it'll be like this forever," I told him in an effort to let him rethink his decision.
"But Haruhi, I just can't do it! You heard me just now. It's not really going too well. I'm tired of being let down. I can't keep up with other's expectations, either." He slammed the case shut, breaking the silence with an earsplitting crash. "I hate it!"
I haven't seen Kaoru like that before. At the time, I could have (almost) sworn that he had been posing as his brother the whole time instead, which was always a possibility.
"Kaoru," I said, my voice, unshaken by his threats. "I don't think you hate the violin. You love it very much. Or else you wouldn't be frustrated like this, would you?"
"I don't know," he whined, rolling his head in circles. "I suppose…it may be like that."
"Exactly," I nodded. "So that's why I'm going to continue watching you practice, ok? You have to promise yourself never give up. It's a waste of talent."
Kaoru slowly directed his gaze towards me, lifting his head to meet my eyes once again. Not like I minded: eye contact with anyone was never a problem. When someone gave me those puppy eyes, or ones that glistened with bothered troubles, that's when I started losing the sturdy façade that took me so long to build.
"Do you mean it? You really want me to continue?" He asked.
"Of course."
He rose up from the desk and glided to where I stood. The warmth of his breath caressed my skin, shivering up my spine. He leaned down close to my ear and whispered two words.
"Thank you."
He ruffled my hair messily and bent down to reach my eye level. "I won't let you down, if that's how you feel. I'll get better. I'll practice. I won't give up."
"Hey, don't keep so many commitments. You better be sure about this, Kaoru!"
He gave me an impish grin in return. "Just watch me."
The following morning, Hikaru caught with me on our way to lunch, slinging his arm around my shoulders as he has always done in the past. "Hey, Haruhi!"
"Hikaru, what is it?"
He glanced around suspiciously, making sure no one had heard. He leaned down to whisper. "It's about Kaoru. Since last week, I've seen him pick up his violin more often. Meh, he used to play once a month at most. I hear him practice outside when I'm still stuck on math! Can you believe that?"
I didn't try to hide my smile. "Yes. It's very believable."
His eyes narrowed. "Wait a moment – do you know something?"
"Nope."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
He scratched his head. "I still can't figure it out though. When our parents decided to stop listening to us play, I quit a long time ago. But Kaoru still wanted to play. Even after I told him that it was time to give it up, he wouldn't let it go. What gives?"
That's right. It's just as Honey-senpai had told me. I understand it now.
"The reassurance is what he needed, Hikaru. When you gave up, he started giving up, too." I felt my voice soften. "Kaoru loves the violin, after all."
He just needs someone who is willing to listen.
. O w a r i .
When Kaoru felt as if it was time to take a break, you know that there must have been something on his mind. Traveling through these thoughts didn't seem to be much of a nuisance, either. But when this happened, the passion in his eyes would gradually fade, leaving nothing but the hollowness what used to be.
He made a promise – one he was sure to keep. To rise above the weakness he held was only one of many commitments. With that assurance backing him up, he vowed to find the courage to express the inner voices tugging at his heart.
"The right time will pass me by, one of these days," he often thought. That was one thing he couldn't deny.
"I can't say it. Not yet," was what his heart had told him. The way it quickened it's tempo whenever the very thought of confessing arose made him feel like shutting himself off the reality.
"But I chose not to run away," he thinks now. He realizes – and he knows.
"Until then, I'll continue to build this courage arousing in my heart."