Music of the Night

The music room. Swathed in trembling shadows, breathing in time with the wash of white moonlight.

The white moonlight, a faded shaft sifting through a glass window on the wall farthest from where Miki stood.

The moonlight, silvery metallic against the black hump of the piano. The ivory keys glowing hauntingly in the reflected light, hovering like phantom fingers in the darkness. The black cushioned bench pulled slightly away from the grinning mouth of the instrument. Facing him, calling him to come and sit, and dance across the keys until the sun faltered the horizon; until the world shattered around him and all things withered away and his fingers turned to rusted bone and dust in the immense wake of eternity.

Eternity in this room. Is that what he really wished for? An eternity of music waltzing under his tireless fingertips? All his thoughts and feelings vented into the tool that he had molested since childhood? All alone with no companion except his faithful music? All alone in the precious, shining world that he kept locked deep inside him.

Miki's fingers twitched, aching to respond to the call. It urged him forward, step by step, until he found himself sinking into the cool, leathery seat of the bench. It squeaked sharply as he shoved it forward to lure the piano almost into his lap. He shivered as his fingertips brushed the naked white keys stretched beneath him. They were cold and felt ancient to touch, as if no one had played them in years. Miki's index finger came down softly on one, experimenting as if afraid the key might shatter under the pressure. He let out the stiff breath he had been holding when he was answered with a solid reaction and a clear, steady ping of sound emanated from under his hand.

His head began to unwind as he pressed another note, then another, steadily twining them together into a mounting knit-work of sound that sashayed like milk through his ears. A song he had played hundreds of times since he had learned how to manipulate the sounds of this instrument. A song perfect in every aspect when laid beneath his nimble fingers. A song that spoke of sunlight in this room crawling with shadows.

Shadows that could creep up behind you before you ever noticed.

The polished rhythm of the song exploded as all of Miki's fingers came slamming down on the keys at once.

A tremor resonated from his hands and scuttled up his arms to curl around the back of his neck, making the hairs that resided there prickle on end. A horribly numbing shiver caressed the column of his spine, and Miki had to force his eyes not to roll back into his head. Instead, his round, aqua eyes darted to one of his tense hands, then the other. He could barely make out his own taut, pink digits underneath the bonds that now pinned them to the piano.

The two hands enveloping his were tan and leathery and held the territory from his middle wrist to past the tips of his outstretched fingers in their enormity. And they were holding him tightly. More tightly than what could be considered comfortable, until Miki had to suppress the desire to cry out and tear himself away.

But he couldn't. He didn't dare to move.

A deep, nonchalant voice sounded in Miki's ear, hovering just above his earlobe, practically consuming it. It was a voice diffusedly crawling with promises of cool touches and dark sin. "Miki-kun," it said conversationally, "what are you doing here all alone so late?"

Miki couldn't refrain from shuddering. He indifferently attempted to pull his hands away and was met with reluctant resistance. For one horrible, fleeting second, Miki thought that he wouldn't be able to escape from the oppressing grip of those cold hands. Then after a moment the huge hands released his petite, crushed ones.

Crushed like small flowers underfoot.

Miki promptly slid his freed hands into his lap, rubbing the circulation back into them. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to throw those same hands at the phantom looming behind him and jolt up in bed to find he was having a strange nightmare.

But why was it a nightmare? Miki was scared, though he didn't know what he had to be scared of. Perhaps just the thought of being caught alone in the school at night had startled him. Perhaps it was who had found him alone that was making him uneasy. Perhaps it was the way He had snuck up on him, the way He had impeded on Miki's dream world, or the close contact He was now at with him. But what was he really afraid of? It was just Akio, after all. Akio, Vice Chairman of the Board. Anthy's elder brother. Kanae's fiance. The one who governed the Student Council and looked after the students. Akio, whose name was scribbled in countless schoolgirls notebooks with big, bubble hearts all around it. Whose name was a popular topic in the gossip channel around the school. Whose voice could be stumbled into where it could capture you forever.

Was that Akio really so scary?

A hand rested tactfully on Miki's shoulder when it had been denied of its former possessions. "Are you waiting for someone, by chance?" The voice dropped, submerged deeper into the dark tunnel of Akio's throat, if that was possible. "Or would you like some company?"

Was that Akio really so scary?

Something flared up in the back of Miki's mind. Something that waved and screamed frantically at him. An empathic instinct that flashed yes. And all Miki wanted then was to get out.

His muscles tightened and he felt his bottom leave the seat for a brief moment. Then the hand tightened on his shoulder and he found himself pushed back onto the bench. His heart caught in his throat and sucked his mouth dry of saliva. Maybe Akio hadn't just done what Miki thought he had. "I-I really should go." Miki stuttered.

He was answered by a second hand mounting his other shoulder. "You didn't answer my question, Miki." There was no way Miki could escape vertically without jumping right into the arms of the predator.

"I..." Somehow his answer seemed like it would be a climatic point in whatever was happening now. "I'm not waiting for anyone." he finally said. Then, as if as a panicked afterthought, he added, "But my sister knows where I am." Miki cursed himself for that last remark. It made him sound way too obvious, like he was trying to bluff on the defense.

Akio must have caught on, for he laughed. A deep, cold laugh. No, cold was not the right word. It was more like the sound of hot ice on flesh; cold so cold that it can do nothing but bring searing heat to the person who gets too close to it. Miki imagined himself beginning to feel that heat as a pair of large muscular arms snaked around his neck, and a sharp chin rested against the nook of his collar bone. "Why so uptight, Miki?" A suggestive voice cooed in his ear. "You seem scared." The voice edged even closer. Or maybe Miki was just being paranoid. "You're not scared of me, are you?" But paranoia never let its lips trail across your ear, did it? And that's exactly what Miki felt Akio do. He couldn't sustain such close contact another second.

With an abrupt jerk, Miki tore away and managed to plant his feet firmly on the floor as he stood. The bench was knocked backwards by his sudden momentum, but was grabbed and steadied by the hands that had only moments before been caressing Miki's chest. Miki actually felt slightly embarrassed for having acted on such a rash impulse.

"Playing hard to get now, Miki? I guess you have a right. After all, I am trespassing on your precious secret garden."

Somehow, that sliver of embarrassment blinked out, replaced by anger. Miki spun around to face his provoker for the first time that night, but before he could demand an explanation, there came a brutal yelp of chords and Miki found himself looking up- up into a shadowed face hovering only inches above his. Akio had Miki pressed with his back against the front of the piano, bent far over the small boy who was now practically lying on top of the white bed of keys. Stunned like a deer beneath the nozzle of a shotgun, Miki could only lay perfectly still as Akio's glowing emerald eyes bore through him in the moonlight. They seemed to be stripping the skin off his face and trying to probe deep into the reassesses of his mind.

The eyes hardened like emerald gems as Akio spoke again. "What are you hiding from, Miki?" he asked seriously. Miki had no idea how to answer to that, but found he didn't have to as the voice filled him again. "In here, you're hiding behind your music. You're using your garden as a method of escaping from the Outside World." At this, the voice softened. "We are all hiding from the Outside World for a reason, Miki." Then it was a mere whisper in his ear. "But eventually, someone must wake us from our empty fantasies."

What happened next, Miki couldn't clearly grasp. All he knew was that he was suddenly on his stomach on the floor, pain stabbing through his left shoulder where he had hit the ground. He wasn't aware he had screamed until a strong grip clapped over his mouth to stifle it. Another hand seized his wrists together and crushed them against the floor at an awkward angle next to him. As Miki struggled against the overwhelming hold, the hands only tightened, squeezing the throbbing veins of circulation in his wrists. He bucked his legs and backside as a heavy weight eased on top of him, but in a matter of moments he was sandwiched completely between the floor and a body twice his size. His chest heaved tightly against the cold floor, and with the hand across his mouth, he was having trouble forcing air in and out of his lungs. His throat and nose burned from the unshed tears that were wildly scratching their way from the back of his eyes. He didn't want to cry now.

Something wet and warm brushed against his flesh. Miki shivered as Akio's tongue slid into the hollow of his ear and sensually violated it. "Don't be afraid, Miki," his seamless voice whispered against the boy's throat, sending sinewy tendrils of heat coursing through Miki's every nerve. "The Outside World is something that must be accepted." The tip of a broad nose caressed the curve of Miki's shoulder, and Akio hungrily nibbled the collar of the boy's uniform.

Yes, the Outside World was something that had to be accepted.

Miki froze, silent, as if he had suddenly faded out into unrecognizable death. "Are you willing to know?" A voice said so close to Miki's mouth, he thought it his own. The music, the cove of flowers and trees dancing with butterflies... he felt Akio's shadowy weight lifted mercifully away. "Are you willing to know what the Outside World has in store for you?"

"No!" Miki said. Or did he say "yes?" The piano was so old, after all, smothered in overgrown weeds, riddled with rust and mildew... The silhouettes of the happy children had long since turned gray and wasted, their ineffective bones strung together only by the threads of their weary love...

"NO! NO! NO!" Miki shouted in quick succession, losing the image, pleading to reject the answer to the question.

But the picture dissolved, and scattered like the ashes of autumn leaves in the wind. Akio's footsteps melted away slowly, like an echo of the children's melodious laughter. The question was answered without speaking a word.

Nothing.