Uиbαlαиcєd: Cнαpтєя σиє
Sтσяy By: JєииαFαιєяyBlαck
Lαvι's Pσv [Pσιит σf νιєw]
It started out as mindless sounds—soft due to distance, yet furious, as if someone were bashing at the keys of the instrument. Which, thinking back on it, they probably were. But… either way, the noise abruptly deterred the silence of the night. And that was all I needed to have my feet carry me towards the mangled sounds. I was, after all, a bookman—even if I was just an apprentice—it's in my job description to record the events and details of everyday life.
So, wouldn't it just help if I was more… specific? For my logs sake, of course. I mean, it wasn't as if I was curious or anything. I just wanted more detail as to what the noise was—it'd be best to record exactly what would be interrupting the silence at nearly 3 o'clock am, when even the cars had stopped making their way down the streets.
Yes… it was just for the records. Or such was what I told myself, as I trailed down the sidewalk, towards the drifting notes, which were slowly, but surely, falling into a tune of some sort.
Then, I was in front of a gazebo. And a boy was there, sitting on a wooden bench placed in front of a piano, where the melody was obviously coming from. His eyes were on a sheet of music, as I approached him slowly. His hair was as black as the night, and long, too—to the middle of his back, at least. The breeze was playing with the loose strands that had fallen from a ribbon that held it to the top of his head, out of the way.
His cobalt eyes met my green one. And suddenly moving became difficult. So I just stood their—directly in front of the grand white piano—just staring back at him. And I had a feeling—I knew that I was a witness to something rare. Something that had never happened before—and he knew it too. He knew he was possibly making the biggest mistake of both of our lives by not pushing me away, and not halting his fingers quick and practiced movements. By not stopping, and glaring, and shooing.
But his fingers never stopped moving, and the beautiful sounds didn't cease. They just filled the empty air that fell in between us—penetrating the silence, and wrapping my entire being into something along the lines of a blanket. It had to be something like that, at least—because I felt really warm, and my heart was beating faster than normal, and my only good eye was staring into his. And what I was seeing wasn't the normal black and white of ink on paper.
It was color. It was blue.
And then, far too suddenly, the piano stopped, along with his fingers. And so he said four simple words, that I felt had a meaning much bigger than even I could grasp.
"This is who I am," were the first words he had said to me, while he lifted his hand and continued to play another melancholy piece, and without hesitation, my fingers reached out for his, and I knew that was where it all started.
— U и b α l α и c є d—
A few quick notes—this is supposed to be roughly childish, because, as you'll later find out, this is Kanda and Lavi's first meeting when they were children—not eighteen like they're supposed to be. And, of course, it's horribly short—no worries, though, it's just the prologue, so everything following it will be longer. Promise! This is my first LaviYuu story, by the way, so I hope you like it so far! :)Reviews are appreciated, as are cookies… mmnnn, the chocolaty goodness! ;)
JennaFaieryBlack