Straight and thin line, precision and rigid perfection

Meaningless, yet balancing much within its narrow confines.

But yet, it remains a line, a safe boundary, barrier, border that excludes everyone, Trapping itself into a world of unchanging solitude.

Len Tsukimori looked outside, as he often did on windy days such as this. The leaves were swirling around in a reddish-golden tornado, and he could hear small children laughing. Yet, he cared for none of that, and as he stiffly picked up his bow, he was once again immersed in his music, the lines and notes rippling before his eyes and teaching him how to create beautiful sounds.

He was so tired of everything…well really; he was tired of being tired. He had been watching her for over a year now…and he still couldn't do or say anything to express what he really felt. What could you say to someone your complete opposite, someone warm, while you were cold, someone gentle, while you were blunt, and someone perfect…while you were not?

Len knew that "Perfection" had many different definitions, but in his mind, it was not the playing all the right notes, doing all the right things that created perfection. It was the passion, the haunting sentiments, the longing that was expressed in music, and the more tangible those feelings were, the closer one was to reaching perfection. Since he had heard the "Ave Maria", Len had always known that her playing was filled with too many emotions for him to count, and that she was much closer to perfection that he would ever get.

And then there was the fact that he had never truly loved anybody besides his family, and in spite of being the violinist he was, he had no idea how to behave around her. He had been avoiding her recently, in a desperate attempt to try to figure things out in his mind, but he knew from the moment he ignored her sunny smile a week ago, that things would not work out.

Len Tsukimori was falling into some abyss in which he would never be able to escape from.

And then, Len does something that he normally never does.

He plays an A, when it should clearly have been an A flat. The melody screeches to a halt as Tsukimori frowns, circles the note to remind him of his mistake, and then picks up his bow again.

And then, to his surprise, he plays the wrong note again. Imperfection, twice in a row.

Meaningless, twisted patterns in the "greater scheme of things"

Mindless doodling, sketching despite the repetition, the agony.

Ignore the tendency of the being to repeat, to seek and achieve perfection for nothing.

Just then, he heard a tentative knock on the door. "What?" he asked, more than a bit angrily. Who in the world would dare to interrupt him as he was practicing? "What?" he asked again, and then a small, redheaded figure entered the room. Len suddenly felt himself going numb.

"Ah." he said, as coolly as possible. "Hino…" He didn't quite know what to say to the blushing girl that stood in front of him.

"You didn't talk to me this entire week!" the girl said rather breathlessly, as if she was about to burst out into a long tirade. Len automatically took a step backwards; Hino looked quite angry with him. "I…was busy." He said still with a cool, unchanging expression on his face. That wasn't exactly a lie; he had been busy…avoiding her, that is. Hino put her hands on her hips.

"Really?" she asked, and Len sensed the childlike innocence as he realized Hino would forgive him if he lied.

"Yes. I have an upcoming competition next week." he lied. If one considered next week to be next month well then…

"Oh." Hino said, lowering her eyes a little. Then she smiled, a brilliant smile that never failed to make Len smile (inwardly of course).

"Well, I was just wanting to tell you something important!" she said, smiling, and now it was a shy smile that was full of eager anticipation. And for some reason that smile…it scared Len greatly.

"Really?" Len said, turning away on the pretense of checking his music. "And what might that be?" He could hear Hino taking a deep breath, and in worry, he whipped his head around.

"…I'm going out with Tsuchiura!"

She only said those words once, but Len could feel them forever imprinted in his head, repeating over and over again, taunting him mercilessly. For once, he was completely speechless.

"What?" he croaked, completely unlike his usual self, unable to keep his guard up. "I…I…" But then, looking at Hino's smiling face, he couldn't help but say what he knew she wanted to hear. Because he cared about her, and didn't want to make her unhappy. Because he knew that it really was all his fault he couldn't have her.

Because he loved her. "I don't know exactly why you're telling me this, but I hope that you two will be happy." At this, Hino squealed and threw her arms around the startled Len. "I'm so happy that you aren't angry! Thank you so much." And then she dashed off, leaving the startled, confused, upset, bitter Len staring at the door in utter shock. He suddenly shook his head and began to pack up; he knew there was no point in trying to practice now.

As he slowly got into the limousine, Len didn't know how to think or act or even say. At least before there was hope. There was something more than this…numbness that was coursing through his veins. He felt as if a little fragile part was breaking apart, the part that had been the foundation of the rest of him. And now he was toppling over, like a tragic tower.

So pathetic. Len sneered to himself as he thought of Tsuchiura. Lucky guy. Though…that could have been him, he thought bitterly, getting into the limousine.

As the window of the limo closed, Len could feel himself closing as well.

Without these barriers, I should dissolve, so they say

Yet, a doubt deepens in my mind, and I wonder if I have done so already

I wish that it had been, that it were

You, me, and the thinnest of lines

The thinnest of lies and pretense between us