Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction and does not reflect the personal or professional lives of any real person or made up character portrayed herein. All fictional characters belong to their respective owners. In other words, it never happened so please don't sue.

Maybe, it really was for the best, or at least that's what Len liked to tell himself. He ran his hand along the smooth surface of his violin, silently relishing in its familiar feel under his hands. He was going to miss this. This simple act of just holding his beloved violin. The same violin he has had for most of his life. His hand stopped when it met a jagged edge; he didn't want to risk cutting his fingers open.

Perhaps that was the real problem with this situation. He was always too careful. Maybe if he hadn't been so careful this would have never happened. The answer to that, he would never know. What was done, was done, and there was no turning back now. He felt a soft, almost nonexistent sigh pass through him before he gently took the instrument out and laid it on his bed. The place where the strings would normally be was now empty. He wanted to keep them, as a reminder of his past. He didn't really understand why, he wasn't the type to be sentimental. Yet, it felt right to him. To keep them as a silent reminder of his own mistakes, triumphs, his life in general.

"Len, are you in there?"

Len didn't answer, just nodded his head, even though he knew his mother couldn't see him. He didn't really feel like talking at the moment. Or doing anything for that matter. For once, he wasn't in the mood to play, he didn't want to read or work on something productive. He just wanted to sit there and stare at his broken instrument.

"Len, your new violin has arrived. Would you like to come see it?"

Len felt something in his heart pull almost violently. New violin. Those two words echoed in his mind like a monotonous chant. That's right, the new violin was being delivered today, he silently mused, trailing the tips of his fingers up the neck of the tanned instrument, being careful to dodge the large crack that ran down the frame. It was split almost in two, from the head, snaking down the neck to the middle part of the body. It couldn't be fixed. Not even the greatest craftsman alive could fix this; the damage was just too great.

Silently resigning himself, Len rose to his feet and padded across the room to his door. He rested his head against it, preparing himself for the worst before opening it to see his mother patiently waiting. She had a sympathetic smile on her face, but he knew she would never understand what he was feeling. She was a pianist. It took an awful lot to break a piano to the point of permanent damage.

He silently turned away from her and headed down stairs, knowing she was following him at a distance. There, on the coffee table, was a new case, wrapped in what looked like wrapping paper with an obnoxious yellow and green bow. Whoever had the fashion sense to put that bow on red and blue wrapping paper was beyond Len, but he could still feel a smile tugging at his lips. He promptly crushed the urge, reminding himself that this was no time to be amused.

His father was sitting on one of the couches sipping his favorite green tea. The familiarity of the sight was almost as soothing as the soft aroma that filled the large space. If it had been any other time Len would have gone so far as to say he felt happy, almost content with the moment. But this wasn't a happy gathering. His father met his eyes, not a trace of sympathy in them. Len had expected as much from him. It was his own fault he was in this situation in the first place; he deserved nothing but blame.

"Your new violin has arrived. Don't break this one," his father almost snapped, getting up from his place on the couch and exiting the room.

Len stared impassively at his retreating back. His mother moved to comfort her son but Len held up a hand to stop her.

"Don't. It's fine."

And it was fine. He didn't mind the rough treatment, he welcomed it. He would be angry too if his son had literally destroyed the first instrument he had ever played. He felt his body move toward the badly wrapped package, no longer really feeling or acknowledging his actions. He felt robotic; numb.

He took the instrument back up the stairs to his room, quietly closing the door behind him. His attention was drawn to the broken violin on the bed, lying there in all its past glory. It was a beautifully tragic sight, an instrument that once made such eloquent music reduced to this.

With an audible sigh and swift jerk of his wrist he laid the package on the opposite side of his bed and tore into the paper. He tossed the remnants aside and lightly flicked the clasps open. He felt like the lid was opening in slow motion as he got his first glimpse of his new violin. What he saw was almost shocking. It was...

Exactly the same.

At first, he couldn't believe it. No, he wouldn't believe it. How could he? The beauty of a stringed instrument was that they were unique. No where on earth were there two instruments exactly the same; it just wasn't possible. It's what made the sound of each one so unique. Yet the mirror image of his own violin was right before his eyes.

"We tried to make it as similar as possible."

Len jumped at the voice, looking up to see his mother standing in the doorway. He hadn't even heard her come in.

"We know how attached you are to your father's old violin. So your father sought out its creator and asked him to make another as similar looking as possible," she continued, moving further into the room so that she could sit on the other side of the bed. She ran her delicate fingers across the bridge of his old violin, pausing at the scroll before gently scooping the entirety of the wood into her arms. Len watched in silence as she put the violin back in its case and latched velvet strip across it.

"It might not be the same, but at least you have the next best thing, right?"

Len nodded, a small spark of rare gratefulness rising up in him. He dipped his hand under the neck and pulled it out of its confines. It was different. No matter how similar they looked, they would never be the same. It felt a bit heavier than his old violin, and the wood wasn't as smooth. The strings hovered a tad higher than what he was used to, a fact that he realized would take some getting used to. He heard his door shut closed, signaling his mother had left him in piece to grow acquainted.

His hand moved automatically as he snapped on his shoulder rest and tightened up his bow before placing it against the strings. He drew it across the D string and winced at the sound. It was painfully out of tune. With practiced movements he tuned the violin, letting a rare smile form when he finished off the E string, satisfied with his work. He raised the bow again and lazily let Ave Maria flow from him.

It sounded nice. It was softer than his old violin and the strings weren't as sticky. He liked how easy it was for his palm to slid down the bridge though he did note he needed a slightly firmer touch to exert a clear note. No matter though, all it would take was some time to get used to. When the last notes rang out into the room he lowered his bow arm and rested his chin against the chin rest, eyes closed. The purity of the notes had left the atmosphere around him peaceful and content. It was ebbing into him, relaxing his stiffened muscles and soothing his mind. The sound was different, but, he didn't dislike it as much as he thought he would.

He lowered the violin and looked over at the violin that was in its case. The pang of regret didn't come this time. Instead he lowered his head in a silent thanks. He would never forgive himself for letting his beloved violin get hurt, but at the very least he would continue on. He knew it wouldn't be the same. He knew he would have a hard time getting used to this new violin.

But maybe, he could grow used to something new.

I'm rather proud of myself for this. I wrote it in a different style than I normally do to give it a more cold feeling. Shortened sentences, less description. I hope it worked haha. I hope you liked it :D It was my first time ever writing a La Corda D'Oro fic :p

This was written for a challenge over at LJ using the prompt New. I was bored so I figured I'd share it with you all ^.^