BB says: Okay, when I said I may create a sequel to my fan fiction Bring the Snow it was one of my crazier moments. I thought to myself "hey. Lets create some oneshots instead. That'll keep the fans from throwing potatoes!" And it didn't . But I wrote some oneshots anyway.
Rating: It'll vary, but this one is Teen.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the manga/anime D. Gray-Man.
A is for AVERAGE.
It was their table because it had been their table for the entire time. Since they had stumbled into Woodland High as freshmen and flocked to the courtyard, they had sat in the same seats. But of course that wouldn't really matter in ten years. Their guidance counselors were adamant about that. That someday each and every student in a school with some of the lowest graduation rates in the county would go on to a busy life of success that would occupy every second of their time. That who they meet here, in these worn halls with the squeaky lockers would quickly be replaced by more affluent and professional associates.
They still had a week to go, but the first arrival at the table still ran her fingers on the marked surface, as though trying to engrain the feel of high school on her fingers. The smell of sweaty teenagers, cheap cologne, and textbook pages. The cement yard full of tables and liter, gum stuck to the brick walls of the school that surrounded it and the vending machines that were broken more often than not.
She hated it here, that much was certain, had hated it since that first day. But she knew herself. She knew that she would come to long for the simple days of high school in the years to come as her life grew more complex and complicated. Because she was throwing herself full throttle into the ferocities of the world after this, hoping to rip this old skin of the little country girl from rural South Carolina.
"Tazzy boo!" Ah. Her girls were here.
Eyes lifted from their reverie, flecks of purple catching the sunlight as she watched the two young women approach.
One was short, standing at a mere five four with a huge, bright smile. She had long brown hair and light brown skin courtesy of her Hispanic heritage. Her eyes were a lovely hazel, set in her round face as pudgy hands adjusted the straps on her tank top. It was odd seeing Maya out of her typical halter, but at least she was wearing the large gold earrings that were her staple and the pumps that she claimed invalidity without.
The other was tall and lean, a dark shadow dressed in bright colors as she wove across the courtyard. Although leggings were forbidden, she wore bright orange as though challenging the teachers to act (like they never did) along with a large, ornate, roca wear shirt. It hung off her shoulders loosely, showing off her white bra straps and smooth coffee bean skin. Her hair was an intricate bird nest piled on her head, red strands dyed in kool-aid woven throughout. Her Grecian style sandals, white, showed off the tipped toes that matched her manicure.
"Taz! What'cha doin' over here, chica? The party's happenin' across the yard!" Maya gestured with one hand, bracelets jingling and rings flashing. "Come on! You ain't gone yet! There's still fine-ass men for you here!" Asia nodded her noble head and touched her most recent piecing. It was in her eyebrow. "I still can't believe you're leavin'. Who's gonna watch Dmitri while I'm at work?" Taz rolled her eyes playfully at the question. Everyone knew how much she loved Asia's two year old. "I'll come visit once in a while."
"You'd better, bitch." Asia smiled her slight smile while Maya pouted. "New York's too far. Why can't you go to community with me?" There were several things Taz could say in relation to that statement, the main point being that she desperately needed to escape the confines of their home town. "They don't have the courses I want. My dream university specializes in studying abroad. It'll be good for my major."
"So major in something else. You could be a teacher with me or a nurse with Asia." The taller girl snorted. "Like I want her clumsy ass in the same hospital as me." Maya laughed. "Be nice! You so mean!" She turned back to her quiet friend, whose hand had yet to leave their old table. "Come on! You gotta shake that sexy ass before graduation!" She dragged Taz into the throbbing circle of their peers to watch the current dance match.
Fierce, young bodies circled each other, their movements creative and perfectly timed as they showed off their skill with the bold pride that came from expertise. The music was loud, felt in Taz's very bones, a hard base and a deep voice barking out lyrics of a slummed life and its woes. It was only a matter of time before administrators finally acted out of the fear that it would evolve into a fight, so the trio moved to the center, egging on the competitors and waiting for a chance to jump in.
"Say you'll miss us."
"I've said it for days."
"We just like hearin' it."
"Bye guys."
"Wait! You have to comfort me since me and Leon broke up! How will I ever find another?"
"Go outside and swing a cat."
The bus ride to New York was every bit as hassling and tiresome as Taz thought it would be, full of bumps and drags and smelly people leaning on her shoulder for a nap. One man, traveling from North Carolina to Virginia, had the audacity to drool.
Her arrival, after what felt like an eternity of jostling and scowling, wasn't nearly as thrilling as one might assume. Travel weary and cranky, the young woman could barely hail a cab to take her onto the campus, much less heft her trunk up the three flights to her dorm. She had sent essentials -sheets, toiletries, a small refrigerator- through the mail and was expected to retrieve them from the school's main office, although she was willing to collapse onto her bare mattress and sleep for a year.
Apparently, she did.
She was woken up eight hours later by the sound of, deep, mournful sobbing just outside her door. It burst open to revel a hassled looking young woman desperately pushing at the dark haired man who had wrapped himself around her legs.
He was crying in Mandarin.
"Get off me Komui!" With the strength of someone twice her size, the girl slammed her free foot into the man's head, sending him soaring out of their room. She slammed the door in his face, ignoring his yowls.
She turned to Taz after taking a deep breath, a sweet smile on her face and warmth in her deep blue eyes. It was only then that she was recognizable from her profile online.
"Hi," she chirped, still ignoring the banished Komui's whimpers. "I'm Lenalee Lee. You're Zahara Nyne from South Carolina, right?" Taz nodded, straightening her clothes as best she could. "My friends call me Taz." Lenalee's smile widened. "Are you asking me to be your friend? I'd love too!" She helped Taz to stand off her bed. Her hands were small and warm, just like the girl herself. She only came to Taz's shoulder.
"Do you need any help moving in, Taz? I noticed that it's kinda empty in here." The Chinese girl had already settled in, pink sheets on her neatly made bed, a lime green chair in front of her desk (matching the lime green laptop), and posters of some boy band on her side of the room. A trunk, two duffle bags, and a large suitcase sat by the door.
"I didn't bring much," the South Carolinian responded, eyeing all the belongs of her roomie "I can handle it. It's in the main office." Lenalee looked a bit horrified. "The main office? That's like a mile away! Come on, I brought my moped. We can stop for coffee on the way! I totally swiped my brother's credit card." And just like that, Taz was best friends with the good natured girl from New York.
Said sweetheart sent another kick to Komui (later revealed to be her older brother who refused to let her go), knocking him out properly.
Taz spent her last few days before class searching for a job in the city, submitting resumes and calling numbers until her fingers lost all feeling. She was given a considerable amount of money from grants and scholarships, but wanted extra cash to fall back on for essentials or in case her ancient laptop finally decided to die. The fact that Lenalee had a vehicle kept her in Taz's hair, and soon they were looking for work together, joining their efforts in the hope that they were more powerful as a team.
The Chinese girl was quite the talker, and before long Taz knew all about her lavish life in Chinatown, her obsessively loving scientist brother, her boyfriend who happened to go to Julliard. Whenever they stopped for coffee she paid, and while Taz was a bit insulted that the girl was insinuating that she had less money, she would never pass up anything free. The girl was all rainbows and sunshine, easily complementary to Taz's somewhat reclusive nature.
Perhaps that was why a good intentioned woman named Miranda hired them for her department store. Their back and forth, Lenalee proclaiming peace, love, and kittens, while Taz shot butterflies from the sky, must have been very amusing.
The same dynamic worked on campus, people attracted to the odd couple living in room 309 of the girl's dorm. Two pretty young women who were not to be messed with and yet welcomed people with open arms (Lenalee). Their fellow students found them charming, an unspoken charisma secreted from their room, and although Taz put effort into pushing others away, Lenalee was continuously drawing them in and offering them cookies.
"She sounds like a rainbow's caught in her cooch."
"She's a nice girl. And at least she hasn't pissed me off with some bullshit."
"Were you really so worried you'd get an uppity prep bitch?"
"You have no idea."
It was cold. Every breath was a puff of mist in front of Taz's face as she made her way down the abandoned streets. Sirens were heard in the distance but she paid them no mind, already in her nice warm bed with Lenalee snoring softly from across the room.
The young Asian was ill at the moment, catching what she called her "annual snuffles" and too congested to breathe deep without coughing. She was forced to call in sick and encouraged Taz to do the same. Upon accepting their jobs at the store in the less savory part of town, they had agreed that neither would work without the other out of safety, that a lone young woman walking down the street was blood in the water.
And sharks were bound to pop up.
The compromise had worked until this point, with Lenalee sick and Ms. Miranda, going to Germany for a funeral. There was no one else to watch the store and Taz felt it was her duty to not only go in, but pull overtime to cover all the holes in the schedule.
With Lenalee insisting she both charge and bring her normally forgotten cell, Taz went to work.
She was now exhausted and it was late, her thin jacket refusing to protect her in the encroaching chill. They didn't have cold this time of year in South Carolina, and she was completely unprepared. Even her afro, a style she'd adopted after quitting braids in middle school, wasn't able to hold warmth close to her skull. She would have to ask her Auntie Klaud to send up her marshmallow jacket. .
Shadows convulsed in front of her, disappearing down an alley where the street light had gone dark. Though Taz stiffened, she didn't investigate. It was none of her business, and a few hooligans only acted if eye contact was established.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh was followed by a yelp, the voice carrying in the cold air. With no one else on the sidewalk, Taz knew that aid was far off and would possibly be too late. Not that is was any of her business.
It came again, but this time the yelp muffled into a moan, knees colliding with cement as the person fell to their knees. Voices rose, mocking, as the hiss of air moving past fabric told the lonesome girl they were kicking their victim.
Very little could get under Taz's skin after her mama died. The older woman had been abusing drugs for a long time, whoring herself out for money and then spending it all on alcohol and cheap baubles. Taz had gone without much of her young life, watching her mother drink and gamble their money away. She swore to herself that she would never be like that, that she was destined for more then the shallow love of strangers and the empty comfort from substance abuse. When Mercedes Nyne was found dead from overdose, Auntie Klaud had taken her daughter and raised her beside her younger cousin, Tim.
But the life of poverty and abuse under her mother had already marred the twelve year old Zahara, old beyond her years and unshakable in the face of danger. Very little could scare her, and her scrappy nature kept her confident and smooth.
But if one thing could still get to her, could inflame the hairs on the back of her neck and boil her temper in her gut, it was jumping people. When three or more teamed up on one person. It was unfair, cowardly, and weak; when it had been tried on her personally she took great pride in kicking all their asses with stamina to spare.
But the person in the alley was losing, cornered by a gang, and Taz couldn't stand it.
She didn't realize she'd spun in her flats until she was upon them, reminding the world why she was called Taz. Her movements were sporadic and powerful, spinning on the balls of her feet and lashing out with toes and fists alike. She was faster than her sturdy build suggested, more powerful than one would suspect of a young woman, and she viciously raked her nails across surprised faces.
These boys, four in all, had obviously never seen a real, gritty fight before, accustomed to throwing brute force instead of skill at their enemies. They were shocked and a bit afraid of the wild girl who had appeared before them, eyes aflame and teeth snarling. She fought like she'd taught herself long ago, tongue forgetting that she'd left her razorblade in the South and searching her mouth for the weapon. She used to carry it hidden in her gums for occasions such as this.
But she didn't need it. These assholes weren't shit compared to the real fighters one met in the rundown neighborhood she'd come from.
"Crazy bitch," the boys were splayed out across the alley, defeated, but one still tried to stand. He was holding a gun. "I'll kill yo-" she slammed her foot into his face, relishing in the wet snap of bone as he went down. "Shut up and stay down, ass-fuck."
She walked over to the cornered victim, now seeing he was a young man around her age. Big eyes gazed up at her and the damage she'd wrought, his arm clutched his stomach and his small package on the ground in front of him. There was a line of blood on his face, dripping down an older scar that ran from his brow to his cheek.
"You all right?" Taz asked gruffly, extending a hand. He looked at her hand dumbly, irritating her. "You deaf or somethin'? I've got better things to do than wait for you to get up." Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts and the boy stumbled to his feet, wincing a bit. He may have a bruised rib or two, but if he'd broken one he'd do a lot more than wince.
"What brings you to this part of town?" Now that she had the boy under a functioning streetlight, their paths in the same direction, she could see what made him desirable to thieves. He was obviously more groomed than most of the residents of the area, his long hair -not blonde, but white- was very clean, his clothes expensive looking and his shoes the brand one had to sell their car to buy. Even the way he carried himself spoke of wealth and breeding, as he stood tall despite his obvious injuries and projected pride in the very way he strode. There was something soft about his face, despite the large scar, and his blue eyes were naturally amiable as they looked at Taz.
Soft, her mental voice was sneering more dumpling than man.
"Oh! Um, this." He had a thick English accent, yet another odd detail for this area, and he handed her his package with no qualms. "Piano strings. I broke one earlier like a silly git." Not interested and confused as to what the Hell a "git" was, Taz tossed the box back and the boy stumbled to catch it. "Some say that's bad luck."
"I'm not superstitious."
"Apparently you should be. This ain't the place to wander into." The boy huffed, but his face was sheepish. "I know. I just…I heard the local music shop was one of the best. And I figured that if I had to fix the piano, it should be with only the best." She accepted his answer silently, their footsteps echoing on the empty street. Realizing she wasn't going to respond, he kept talking.
"My name is Allen Walker, by the by. I apologize for not introducing myself sooner; that was rather rude of me." Had they not been walking, Taz knew he would offer her his hand. After a few seconds of silence she decided he could know her name. "Zahara. Taz, if you want." Allen smiled brightly. "Well thank you Miss, er, Taz. I don't know how I would've gotten out of that situation otherwise."
"You wouldn't have."
"Oh. Well, thank you squared."
"Don't mention it," she glared at him out of the corner of her eyes. "To anyone. I left that girl home when I came here." She was a new girl now, starting over with a fresh reputation and a clean slate. She sought to become a scholar, someone who used words to fight instead of her fists. If word got around that she'd been a walking nightmare back home it could sully her chances of bettering herself.
"Nevertheless," Allen didn't seem fazed. She sighed. "If you insist." A taxi rolled around the corner, quickly approaching the two walkers. Allen held out his hand. "Cabby! Excuse me! Cabby!" They drove right past him. Taz sighed through her nose again, taking off her shoe and throwing it with deadly accuracy. It slammed into vehicle's back windshield, doing no damage but grabbing the driver's attention.
"What the fuck, bitch?" he yelled. Taz gestured rudely with her hand before speaking. "This guy needs you to get him home, idiot! Or do you not want his money?" They glared at each other before the man finally sat down and turned his car around. Allen looked at Taz with both amusement and surprise.
"Was that truly necessary?"
"You want to get home, don't cha?"
The taxi pulled up beside them and threw the shoe back at Taz from his open window. Allen opened the back door and smiled at her, extending his hand. "Are you coming?" She raised an eyebrow. "No. It'd be a waste of money." The boy blinked. "I cannot leave a young lady to wander the streets at night." She snarled and crossed her arms. "If you haven't noticed," she snipped "I ain't a lady. Get your prissy butt back to wherever you came from."
The young man had determination in his eyes. "But I owe you."
"Whatever."
"No, really. If you ever need anything-"
"I won't."
"Come to Julliard. Practice Room 109 on the eastern side of the campus." Taz twitched awkwardly. She'd honestly didn't want to accept the boy's offer, but the look in his eyes was stubborn; he wouldn't leave otherwise. "Fine," she snapped "go away now. I'm sure the meter's running." His eyes were on her as he told the driver his destination. "Be safe, Taz." She spat as they turned the corner.
"Oh, so you some sorta hero now?"
"No. They just pissed me off. I hate assholes like that."
"Good to see you can still tear ass. Don't you go soft on us!"
"Please. Remember when I took down Rashanda and all her cousins?"
"It was when I first realized we were girls for life."
"Aren't you excited?" Taz shrugged, tearing into her slice of pizza. "No. Not really." Lenalee gaped. "Seriously? You got one of the highest grades on the midterm! Show a little more enthusiasm."
"Don't wanna."
"You're just doing it to annoy me."
"Pretty much." The girl pouted at her difficult friend, taking a sip of her diet soda. They sat in a little pizzeria off time square, Lenalee insisting on treating Taz in celebration of her accomplishments.
Hey. Free food.
"Fine. If you don't care, I don't care."
"Okay then." They sat in silence for all of five seconds before Lenalee was bouncing and squealing again. "Third in the whole class! You're so amazing!" Taz sighed to cover her pleasure, listening to her friend gush. This girl was good for her, even if she had yet to realize just how much their friendship had come to mean.
"Oh my God, no way!" A break in the drabble caused Taz to pay attention, Lenalee waving over her shoulder and out the window.
She turned in her seat to see what had excited the Chinese girl so, and noticed a young man with bright red hair waving back before entering the restaurant. He took a seat beside Lenalee like it was the most natural thing in the world, planting a very loud, very comical kiss on her smiling face.
"Lavi! What are you doing here?" The man grinned a wolfish grin at his girlfriend, reaching up to unconsciously adjust the pencil behind his ear. "I can sense beauty a mile way, babe. And with this much in one area I knew it could only be one person." Lenalee giggled and accepted a kiss on the lips.
Lavi Vaughan was a celebrated young artist, his paintings already the talk of the art world. A new Michelangelo, they called him, with the looks of David and the arrogance of Da Vinci. With a strong chin, charismatic grin, and finely tanned skin, he was ruggedly handsome despite the eye he'd lost as a child. He'd been shot by a B.B. gun.
Tattoos covered much of his body, peace signs and dragons and koi fish peeking out from his sleeves and neckline. A green bandanna held back his fire engine hair and showed off the small gold hoops in his ears.
"That reminds me!" Taz returned after ordering for Lavi. He'd offered to do it himself, but she preferred to let the couple have a moment alone. Lavi's grandfather was a celebrated author who wanted Lavi to focus on his art more than his girl. Lenalee's brother openly threatened to kill any boy who looked at her twice. With two crazy relatives between them they rarely got time alone. This was only the second time Taz had seen the guy after Lenalee introduced him months ago.
"Allen was jumped a few weeks ago." Taz nearly dropped the plate with Lavi's pizza, eyes widening.
"Oh my God! Is he okay?"
"Yeah," Taz's stumble had gone unnoticed " like I said, it was a while ago. Although he just told me yesterday, the little shit. Couple of Crows thought his piano strings were actually something important. It got pretty nasty, apparently and some girlhad to come to his rescue. I'll be teasing him for weeks." A wistful smile was on his face, displaying his love for mockery and pranks. "A girl?" Lenalee tried to coax out more of a story.
"Huh? Oh yeah! She pulled a Batman. No weapons, no help, all ass kickery." Lenalee's eyes widened before darting to Taz. "What did she look like?"
"Oh, I don't know. He said she was short." Lenalee frowned. "That's not specific. Allen's taller than most women." Lavi scoffed. "Barely." His girlfriend punched him in the arm. "Ow! Okay! Afro. Frowny. Quick on her feet." Lenalee was looking at Taz earnestly now, as though she expected the girl to fall to her knees and confess to some crime. Instead she shoved another bit of pizza into her mouth.
"Kinda scary, if you think about it. Female ninjas runnin' around. I wonder if I could round up a few for some nude paintings." Lenalee reintroduced Lavi to her iron fist of love.
"He snitched? You shoulda killed him."
"Maya!"
"Kidding. Sort of. You should kick his ass though."
"…I'll pay him a visit."
"The Practice rooms. East." The man behind the desk looked at Taz with barely concealed disdain for her appearance, old faded jeans and a weather beaten sweater. She'd worn the same tennis shoes she'd worn for the past two years, ratty and ripping in places, a hair band the only thing taming the well kept poof on her head.
"We have maps for visitors," he had decided that she was unworthy of any other response and turned back to his computer.
"It'll go faster if you just give me directions."
"As I said, we have maps."
"It's not like you're helping anyone else right now."
"I'm a receptionist, not a tour guide." Taz held back a burst of temper and turned in mock defeat. "You're right. Sorry to bother you." She walked a few feet before speaking again. "Actually, do you know where I can get a map?" The man huffed at being interrupted, not bothering to look at the girl. "Anywhere on campus. Most choose the cafeteria."
"The cafeteria? That's left when I leave here, right?"
"No. A left will take you to practice rooms." He didn't realize he'd helped her, and Taz felt all the more victorious for it.
The campus was beautiful, with artfully designed buildings and wide walkways. Artwork by the school's students littered the way with an equal amount of bikes and mopeds parked and chained to poles. Students poured over sheets of music Taz had no hope of ever reading and pointed to discrepancies she couldn't see. She received more than a few curious looks, some innocently questioning, others judging, as she made her way to the building ahead.
The foyer to the building was surprisingly quiet for being surrounded in practice rooms. There was no one moving about but the young woman could feel their presence, bodies curled around their respective instruments as they carefully read their notes, imitating the greats. She wished that she could hear them, only for a moment, because she knew they must make the most beautiful music when freed.
The door to room 109 was on the first floor, its single window covered in blinds. Taz didn't bother knocking.
She was glad she lacked manners. Because if she'd have knocked, he probably wouldn't stopped playing.
The notes were warm, embracing, bouncing off the walls and echoing through Taz as she entered the room. Graceful hands flew over the keys and, to her astonishment, his eyes were closed, the book of music laying in neglect on top of his bag. She leaned back on the wall, listening for a moment before she closed her eyes as well. It was so amazing, lovely in the way that music was always meant to be. She'd heard classical before, listening through her computer or CD players but it never came through as clear as it was now, live action.
"Miss, er, Taz?" The young woman frowned at the stop in sound, the decidedly British accent cutting through.
"Liszt."
"I'm sorry?"
"Franz Liszt. Un Sospiro." Allen looked surprised, eyes bouncing between sapphires and rain clouds. The window behind him had the curtains pulled back, sunlight wrapping itself in his hair. "Yes. Yes it was." Taz walked further into the room, coming to stand by the large instrument. She couldn't even tell where a string had broken, accredited to the boy's knowledge of the instrument and its maintenance.
"How did you-"
"He's my favorite. I could recognize anything of his." Something akin to mischief flash in Allen's eyes, the sure sign of a dark side. "Really? You're that confident in your knowledge of music?"
"Yes." A smirk curled onto the boy's face. "Shall we place a flutter?"
"Flutter?"
"A bet. I'll play three different songs. If you can tell me what they are, I'll treat you to lunch." Free food. Taz like the sound of that. "And if I lose? Do you want me to ignore the favor you owe me? Or forget that you ran your fat mouth about what I did?" If Allen felt anything like guilt at her accusation he didn't show it. Perhaps he didn't know what "Don't mention it" meant. Dumb ass. The young man kept his face carefully passive, save for a flash of emotion behind his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think 'anyone' meant one of my closest mates." Taz snarled. "What happens if I lose?"
"You'll owe me a favor. Along with the disappearance of my debt to you." The way he could flip from courteous to morally questionable was astonishing. "Fine." Allen's smile blossomed fully as he held out his hand. Instead of shaking hers, he squeezed it gently, as though worried he would hurt her. In the brief moment when their eyes met, he seemed to leave the room, his mind elsewhere.
His hesitation gave Taz the opportunity to notice the hand in her own, gloveless and revealed. It was deformed, the skin red and leathery, the fingers tipped with nails the color of soot and the flesh on the back twisted and puckered. Seeing her gaze, he reclaimed his hand a bit too quickly.
"What happened?" He jumped at the question, and she wondered if he would snap at her. Some people could be very defensive about their imperfections, lashing out at those who were merely curious and blaming the world for their pain. Taz wasn't sure what to expect from this boy, as he looked at his hand with a neutral expression, flexing the fingers as though he himself was fascinated. This individual who was willing to get beaten up over a few piano strings.
"I was caught in a house fire as a child. I reached for my father and, well," he wriggled his fingers. "The whole thing was quite traumatizing. And dad wound up dead from his burns anyway," he ran his hand through his white hair. She wondered what color it had been before. "And your face?" In for an inch, in for a mile. Allen gave a laugh, his voice weak but the sound full of astonished mirth. "You don't hesitate with the awkward questions, do you?" Taz blinked.
"It was the same fire. I cut myself crawling from the wreckage with my ruined arm. Couldn't even feel how bad it was at the time…" His face fell into contemplation for a moment, the gesture complimentary to his pointed features. Not one for useless fawning or admiration, Taz would never admit how beautiful he was at that moment.
"Alright," he cleared his throat. "Let's leave the past behind us, shall we?"
The song started slow, the notes slowly winding from the piano with careful finesse. Allen's fingers were gentle as he teased the keys, his eyes threatening to fall shut once again. Taz relaxed visibly, leaning against the instrument and watching the stings as they vibrated. It was woefully, and beautiful in its pain, swallowing the world in a world of smooth darkness and deep pools of sorrow.
"Consolidation. Liszt." The boy stopped playing to look at her with hooded eyes. They were grey now. "Correct."
This piece slowly increased in intensity, much faster than the previous. His fingers were blurs as they worked, his body bobbing with the more powerful notes. The sounds danced as they escaped, entwining with each other and laughing playfully. Taz could feel them exploring the room, working through her brain and tangling themselves in her hair. This was a very difficult song, suggested by the slight frown in Allen's brow, but he still worked with a skill that portrayed ease. Show off.
"La Campanella. Liszt."
"Yes," he hummed before slipping into a new melody.
It was smooth and bright, incredibly sweet and fast. It was almost lamenting, like it was proclaiming a pain that ended well, a power that could only be born from agony. It was based in the lower keys that the English boy focused on with flighty light notes sprinkled throughout. The overall effect was that of a call and receive, low shouting to high and gaining an eager response. It was lovely, really, and Taz would have enjoyed it much more had she been able to identify the music.
"That's…" The young woman crinkled her brow together "uh…"
"Hmmmm?" The pianist hummed over his playing. He seemed at ease, sure of his victory. Taz was forced to take a shot in the dark. "Liebestraume?" Allen stopped playing to smirk at her, his eyes narrowed playfully. "You know it's not." Taz pouted (she would call it a scowl). "Yes. I know." The boy carried the song to the end before stopping.
"Well then," he stood and put the cover on the piano, squatting to reclaim his bag and coat. "Let's go to lunch." Taz frowned deeper. "I lost."
"Yes. And I've decided to be a good sport and treat you anyway. My favor is rather large, and I admit I may have cheated a bit."
"Cheated?"
"That last piece was Steven Cravis, 'Through the Kaleidoscope.'"
"What you doin' fuckin' around with that white boy?"
"The time when that was unacceptable is over, Asia. And its not like I'm dating him. We're friends…if that."
"You know better than that, Taz. Gotta go. Call later, 'kay?"
"Yeah. Bye."
The bouncy dog leapt up the stairs, leash in his mouth as he searched for his master. A maid squealed as he rushed between her legs and made her drop her towels, his waving tail nearly toppling a vase as he rounded a corner. Rushing into a large bedroom, he tackled the young man to the floor as he exited the adjoining bathroom.
Chuckling, Allen shoved the golden retriever off. "Quit it Timcampy, you'll get me dirty!" The dog barked playfully, tail wagging so hard his body shook with the force. Allen used his good hand to scratch the pooch behind the ears. "You know I can't take you for a walk now, of all times." The dog whimpered and licked his hand. "That's not fair! Stop with the puppy eyes!" A moment passed as master and pet held a silent conversation. "Fine. I'll take you on an extra long sojourn tomorrow. Just get off me, mutt!" Sated, Timcampy proceeded to follow Allen to the chair holding his jacket, watching him as he straightened his tie.
The boy struggled to still the shaking in his fingers as they tied back his shaggy hair, his pounding heart behind the lapels of his vest. This restlessness haunted him, had ever since that night in the alley. He no longer had the capacity to concentrate on anything other then the face of his rescuer, from the instant he took her hand and she pulled him from the ground. He'd spent his ride back home thinking about her, the way her face pulled slightly when amused (or angry) and her strong, confident movements even on the darkest of nights.
He didn't know why he'd told Lavi, possibly the biggest mouth on campus. Maybe because somewhere, deep inside, he knew she wouldn't take his betrayal lightly. That she would come looking for him and promptly put him in his place. If he saw her during the day, the theory was that she was lessen in allure, that the lovely face with the stern glare would be less attractive when he could see it clearly, without the pounding of adrenaline rushing through his body and the typical gratitude one holds for their rescuer.
He booked room 109 everyday that week, waiting for her to come, knowing it was a matter of time before Lavi met up with Lenalee and, as a consequence, Taz. He honestly hadn't intended to invite her to a birthday gala, but when the idea struck he knew it would come to fruition. Even if he had to be a dastardly gambit and cheat his way into her graces.
Mozart's requiem interrupted his peace. Ah. Think of the devil. The older, red haired, womanizing, devil.
"And where might you be, idiot boy?" Allen frowned at Mr. Marian' tone, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he pulled on his gloves.
"I told you I'd be late. I'm riding with friends." Sod off, asshole.
"You don't mean that half baked finger painter and his ditzy woman?"
"The same." Marian sighed as though the world was against him.
"It's my birthday and your subjecting me to nonsense? Ungrateful, stupid boy." "The limo should be here soon. Goodbye." As usual, Allen held no qualms about hanging up on the man. Most of their conversations ended with the younger royally cheesed off, desperately wishing that he could somehow live with his uncle while studying in American.
Cross Marian was a family acquaintance, an old cully from Yale. Uncle Neah had convinced Marian to allow Allen to stay during his studies in America, as the boy's dream had always been to attend Julliard. Neah himself had taught his nephew and refused to let his talents go to waste anywhere else.
Nevertheless, Marian was a hard man to convince. He hated responsibility and structure, and although he was a world renown film star he still refused to tidy his habits of drinking and womanizing. The townhouse he kept Allen in was only one of three estates he had globally, the other in Hollywood and a third in the United Kingdom. Closer to Uncle Neah's place than Allen would have liked.
"Mr. Walker," the housekeeper shouted "your friends have arrived."
"You ain't one of them Taz. You're one of us."
"I can be both. I will be both. Someday."
"Let's see what they think. Your friends are nice an' shit but they're blind if they think you'll just slip right in. And when that white boy remembers who he is, who you are, he'll drop you like a piece of trash."
"Maya-"
"Not sayin' they're right. Like you said, you'll prove 'em wrong. But ya gotta stay real, girl."
"I don't belong here." It was her mantra through the whole ordeal, as Lenalee combed out her hair ("it's like wool…only softer!") bought her a dress ("I don't want to go," she'd grumped. Lenalee rolled her eyes and paid the cashier anyway. "If you do go, you have to look nice.") and forced her into the limo where Lavi was waiting. "This sort of thing doesn't fit me. You guys go without me."
Lavi smirked from his seat beside Lenalee, arm draped lazily over her shoulders. "Tsk, tsk, Missy. You made a bet and you lost. Deal with it." Of course he knew. Why wouldn't Allen tell his best mate? Taz pursed her made-up face, resisting the urge to straighten her dress again. It was long, but formfitting and thin. Blue satin layered with tulle, Lenalee gushed, happiness created by fabrics Taz had never even heard of. It was much…showier than she was used to, with little clear stones sewn into the hem. Even her prom dress had been more subtle.
"Besides," Lavi continued, swirling his glass of champagne. He was the only one old enough to drink but Taz had every intention of getting her hands on some alcohol before the night was over. "That would leave Allen without a date. Heaven forbid that happen!" Confused, the girl crossed her arms tighter. "What's so bad about being dateless?"
"You don't know?" Lenalee and Lavi shared a look. "It's the guy he lives with. He's a major asshole-"
"Who happened to be a friend of his uncle in England. He thinks that Allen is…well…"
"He thinks I'm a bloomin' fairy," they hadn't even noticed the young man approaching the car, much less the door opening. He slid in beside Taz gracefully, easily joining the conversation. She noticed that her dress was the same blue as his tie, one of the many colors that his eyes could take. She wondered it Lenalee had chosen this dress on purpose.
"He said, and I quote 'I ain't sharing my home with a fuckin' fag'. I was originally concerned with what my sexuality had to do with cigarettes." Allen chuckled at his own joke, joined by Lavi and Lenalee. "Well its not like you do anything to prove him wrong. Would it kill you to run around a bit more? Even I thought you were hitting on me when we first met." Lavi teased with a smile. Allen rolled his eyes, making contact with Taz for a brief moment. Their gazes locked before she pulled away to look out the window.
"He's right you know. You like to primp, you're polite, you have yet to compliment my ass," Lenalee prodded.
"And you can't fight to save your life," Taz added.
"Literally." Lavi snickered. Taz watched Allen as their friends laughed, the glint in his eye and the soft smile on his face. He actually looked like the stereotypical pianist with his hair tied back and a rose on his tuxedo. All he was missing, she thought with an amused grin, was a cummerbund.
The ride to the gala was silent for Taz as she listened to the other three with their light hearted banter. They had obviously been friends long before she'd come to New York although, from what she could gather, Allen had only been in America the past year.
They fit each other well, bouncing compliments as well as hidden insults easily between them with no malicious intent. It reminded her of the friends she left back in her home town, the two girls that were probably out clubbing on a night like tonight. She'd never particularly enjoyed nights on the town, preferring to sleep, but the homesickness that tightened her heartstrings was so sudden it weakened her. Christmas seemed a lifetime away,
"We need to work harder," she heard Lavi comment. "We're boring Taz." She raised an eyebrow, waving her hand in front of her face. "I'm not easily amused. Maybe someone could do a little dance?" This satisfied her fellow riders enough for them to make the rest of the ride without speaking to her again.
It was held in the Hilton Hotel, the door to their limo opened by their driver. They may have been a little late to arrive, as the valet servicemen were looking bored, but at least they arrived in style (as Lavi put it). In her haste to get out, Taz tripped on her dress, struggling for balance in the four inch heels Lenalee had insisted upon. She reached for the nearest stabilizing device, which happened to be Allen's arm, and dragged him down with her. There was a moment of flailing limbs and moaning before Taz stumbled back to her feet.
"Oh my God! Are you guys alright?" Taz assured Lenalee that they weren't going to die, eyeing a group of people inching their way. To her horror, she noticed the fact they had cameras.
Of fucking course. Paparazzi. She though she heard Lenalee say something about it being a movie star's birthday.
Allen stood after a moment to recover from his own shame, practice allowing him to ignore the flashing bulbs. He had fallen on top of her, her coconut scented hair in his face (plush) and her body pressed against his in that deliciously crafted gown (do not think about her knockers, do not) and the strange little noise she made in the back of her throat when he landed on her (he now knew for a fact that he was not homosexual).
As a result, a bright red rose blossomed on his face he took a step away in an attempt to cool down. "S-sorry. I should have caught you," he spoke over Lavi's snickers and the weary fluttering of the valets. Taz shrugged, every bit as abashed but much more practiced in hiding it. "You shouldn't have to. I'm not used to these shoes," she aimed her statement at Lenalee, who had the grace to look slightly put out. "But they match so perfectly!"
"Yeah," Taz lamented as she straightened her dress "they do."
The lobby was every bit of lovely as one would come to expect, with interior fountains and pots of rare plants adding color to be reflected off the beige marble. The press hadn't been allowed into the hotel with them, a fact that eased Taz a considerable amount. In the middle of the floor stood a large piece of abstract art, crafted from some sort of dark stone, bold against pillars the width of smart cars. The receptionist desk just beyond, a woman who looked even snobbier than the man at Julliard eyeing Taz as she gaped at her surroundings. The area was easily the size of a log cabin; it looked like it could swallow the house Taz had grown up in with still enough room for the shed.
Her peers didn't seem fazed, following the satin roped areas.
"Come on Taz! This way!" Lenalee called, her arm looped with Lavi's. Taz nodded, only jumping a bit when Allen snuck up beside her and echoed the motion of their friends. "So they'll know you're with me," he gestured to the two intimidating men standing in front of the booked room. "I only had one invitation for a friend and their guest." Taz nodded, anxious. She attributed it to the fact that wandering eyes were about to descend upon her escort and, as a side prize, her. She really didn't want all that attention, but it wasn't like she could turn and run home.
Or could she…?
Too late. She'd blinked and they appeared in the room. Allen was greeting men and women dripping with finery, an abundance of lace and velvet and furs of animals that were probably endangered. The lady to gentleman ratio of the crowd that descended was uneven in favor of the females, young ladies gazing up at Allen with nothing sort of adoration and eyeing Taz with poorly concealed malice.
The young women of aristocracy were covered in jewels and baubles that served no purpose save for inciting envy within their peers, their laughs loud to draw attention to their style and refinement. Taz felt naked in her simple silver and cubic zirconium, certain that anyone who approached would immediately identify her as someone of lower class. Her face warmed behind her light makeup (much too light for the occasion, as other women sported orange, green, and even red eyelids) and she was quickly overwhelmed by the bodies coming to meet Allen. Apparently he was considered some sort of genius on the piano, his reputation bolstered by his relationship to the party's host.
"Excuse me," her voice seemed too weak for her tastes, and she was angered these teased peacocks could intimidate her so. "I need to use the restroom." She didn't know where it was, but desperately needed to breathe without the worry someone would find her unworthy of sharing their oxygen. In her haste, she didn't even notice the presence of the guest of honor, zeroing in on her companion.
"Where are you?"
"Hiding in the bathroom. Like a coward."
"WHAT? Oh, HELL no…hold up, Asia wants to talk to you."
"Hello?"
"Good choice," Allen tried not to jump as Mr. Marian appeared, the usual glass of expensive champagne in his hand and a scandalous looking tart on his arm. "She one of the Senator's daughters?"
"No."
"Paid escort?"
"Do you offend me on purpose?"
"No? What's 'er name?" Allen refused to break eye contact, standing tall among the crowd. They all pretended to suddenly be occupied with one another, although they were very obviously listening intently.
"Zahara Nyne. A honors student at Pace."
"Nyne?" Marian took a deep breath of the cigar in his hand before continuing. "Never heard of that family." Allen narrowed his eyes, refusing to walk into Marian's trap and allow him to insult Taz.
"She's not from around here."
"I see," Allen wanted to knock the grin off the old man's face, especially when his woman of the night had the gall to giggle. Of course the older gentleman wouldn't approve of Allen inviting Taz, he took every single movement as a fresh opportunity to rub his disapproval in the young man's face. Everything that made Allen happy was childish or comical or a combination of the two, nothing worthy of Marian's approval. Stupid old man, pompous git, annoying-
"Alright, I guess. I'm just glad you didn't bring your boyfriend." Allen's was too shocked to be insulted by the insinuation, his eyes wide and his confident façade falling for a brief moment. "Really? I mean, yes," he cleared his throat, a strange sense of relief washing over him "thank you."
"But," Mr. Marian continued as though Allen hadn't spoken. "How do you think Neah will feel about you dragging in the riffraff?" Just like that, Allen felt the relief morph into frustration.
The great and powerful Noah family of Europe was known for rubbing elbows with only the highest of society, incredibly strict about those they socialize with. Mana, Allen's father, had been the black sheep, moving into a two bedroom flat and attempting to make his own way without his family's help. When Uncle Neah had taken Allen, the boy was quickly drowned in the set regulations of the life he would now have to embrace, the whimsical nature of his father and his past life torn to shreds and replaced. He was a gentleman now, and he would be expected to act like one.
How this influential family would react to his interest in what they called "paupers" was something he knew he'd have to face someday. He'd never heard of anyone else choosing a relationship with someone outside the aristocracy, although his uncle told him his mother had been an actress at the same theatre as his father.
Allen felt the fingers on his hand twitch, longing to ball into a fist but knowing such a display of offense was below someone of his class. He opened his mouth to utter a cool retort, but was interrupted.
"It's rude to talk about someone behind their backs."
"Asia-"
"No. Get yo ass back out there."
"But ya'll are right. I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't-"
"So he's among his own kind. He knows who he is. So what? Has he put you down?"
"No…"
"Left you?"
"No, but-"
"Do you like him?"
"…I just met him."
"That's not what I asked. Maybe he's different. Don't be a tight ass, just don't drop your guard yet."
"Asia-"
"They know what they are. Show them who they're fucking with. Don't you bow to nobody."
"Asia-"
"You better not be crying, bitch."
"I'm not. I'm laughing."
She saw the canary yellow of Lenalee's gown out of the corner of her eye but was focused. She snagged a glass of hard cedar from one of the passing platters, pretending she hadn't been hiding in the restroom for the past thirty minutes. Target in sight, she dove, just in time to catch the tail end of the man's words.
""It's rude to talk about someone behind their backs." He turned his gaze to her, watching as she came to stand beside Allen. She didn't reach for the young man's hand, but made it clear whose side she was on.
"Riffraff? Isn't the dictionary definition referring to worthless things? Junk?" The man, who she suspected was the birthday boy, grinned arrogantly. "And if it is?" Taz huffed, standing up tall and forcing a sweet smile to her face. She took a sip of her drink to contemplate her words. "Such a derogatory slur is unnecessary for one of your," she made a show of looking him up and down and wincing slightly "stature. Stop hiding behind insults and say what you mean." The man's grin chilled, tension mounting.
"What I mean, sweetheart, is that my dear, idiotic acquaintance here has brought what is affectionately called a Gold Digger, into our midst. A lower class harlot who thinks that dressing up pretty can somehow heighten her status. Pearls on swine; return to your sty, sow." Taz nodded at his words, making little noises of agreement in the back of her throat. "I see. I only wish you knew one simple fact before our first meeting had to come to this."
"Oh?" Taz smiled all the sweeter, eyes shimmering in a way that made her whole face glow. It was beautiful, the perfect disguise for the glass of cider that was suddenly thrown in Mr. Marian's face. The crowd around them grew deathly silent.
"This must come as a horrible surprise," she hummed as though she hadn't just emptied her drink on the man, speaking to all in range. "But I don't need anyone's help to break through this thin glass ceiling. If you were to ask me, you didn't, but I'll tell you anyway, the real riffraff are those who squander their riches on useless parties and loose women. Jewelry they'll only wear once before discarding and possessing ideals so shallow I wouldn't get my feet wet speaking of them. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go before the scent of pompous sticks to my clothes."
She turned to leave feeling shocked eyes on her back. "And, by the way, your movies suck."
The crowd watched the girl leave in silence, a strange combination of mortification and surprise stilling their movements. Mr. Marian blinked, his face a mix of surprise and admiration as cider dripped from his chin to the floor. He ran his hand over his face in a half assed attempt to dry it, brown eyes still focused on the retreated form of Taz.
He broke into a gut busting laugh. "Feisty! I like her!" He chortled, covering his eyes with his hand. The crowd breathed a sigh of relief, content to return to their circles and discuss the peasant who dared question societal royalty.
Allen was just as stunned as everyone else, the difference being the glazed over look in his eye, the faint blush on his cheeks. "Well? Go get her, idiot boy! You're gonna let that fire get away?" No more encouragement was needed. Allen turned on his heel and ran after Taz.
"Well?"
"That felt sooo good."
"And your snow flake?"
"…he didn't say anything. Didn't…hold up. I gotta go. Call ya'll tomorrow."
"Yeah."
"Taz! Taz!" He didn't expect her to stop, a cell phone in her hand and her eyes defensive. She'd already made it to the lobby by the time he caught her.
"What? I'm tired and these shoes hurt." Funny. His words abandoned him, the admission to how amazing he found her and how beautiful she was simply vanishing into smoke. She was a hair's breath away, so close that if he lifted his hand the slightest bit it would brush her arm, but he couldn't find just what he wanted to say.
"Allen-" he cut her off, pressing his lips to hers gently and catching her by surprise. He couldn't help the sigh of contentment that escaped, the absolute certainty that this is what he needed in his life, that she was the perfect addition to a world that mainly consisted of his piano and his dog.
She wriggled against him, and while Allen wouldn't put it past her to break his jaw over this, he couldn't help weaving his fingers into her hair, his hand at her waist, pulling her all the closer. He savored the flames that were still in her mouth, her fluttering gasps for breath even as her arms wrapped around his waist to keep him from backing away. He had no intention of letting her go, he wanted to assure her, that now that he'd finally worked up the nerve to approach her, he had no intention of turning back.
They pulled apart, his face aflame and her eyes foggy. "Uh….I…" and he still couldn't think of what to say. Snogging her senseless in the middle of a hotel lobby hadn't been in his plans, and his blush was so heavy he couldn't think straight.
"Kissing on the first date? That's gutsy." She spoke for him, eyes still shimmering above her smirk. Allen blinked. "This is a date?"
"You just kissed me."
"If you want to get technical this is our third date." She looked at him curiously, and he resisted the urge to kiss her again. "I took you to lunch remember? Not to mention the night we met-"
"You can't count the night I saved your ass as a date."
"I can. And I do." He brushed her lips with his again before she could argue.
"Would you like to dance?" Taz hummed, arms still tight around Allen and their noses still touching. "Dance?"
"Yes. I'm much better at the foxtrot then fighting, so I was wondering-"
"What's a foxtrot?" Allen chuckled softly. "You know what? I saw a diner on the way here. Let's get something to eat instead."