The Consequence of Anger
By Shahrezad1
Summary: Kelsi is having difficulty with her 'emotions,' and Ryan is caught in the middle of it all.
Disclaimer: Listen, my computer just fried my document and I have to type this over again. If that doesn't say just how much these characters don't belong to me, I don't know what does.
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Her current assignment was bothering her. Not in a 'The World is About to End, and On Top of That I'm Failing,' kind of way, so much as a 'Hello? I'd like to file a missing persons report. Name? Inspiration,' situation.
After all, it wasn't like it was going to make or break her grade. It was only a training exercise, created by a teacher dealing with a mass of more than slightly antisocial Composition students. Yet somehow a part of her couldn't help but put more importance upon the subject. Not doing so seemed almost sacrilegious within her mind, as though she was a traitor to her own major. Still, the determination that she do it right, if she was to do it all, didn't help with the block she was faced with.
How did one write 'Anger,' anyway?
Absently trailing her hands up and down the keyboard, she tentatively tried a combination of notes in a lower key, tousled curls bouncing absently after having been freed from her usual hair elastic, before abandoning them upon the realization that she'd started playing Beethoven. This was followed by an attempt that sounded a bit too much like The Phantom of the Opera for her own taste.
Unbidden, a movie she'd seen as a child came to her mind, mangled and misquoted but still clear in its message, an artist talking about her inability to paint. "They looked like copies I had seen somewhere before. And not very good ones, either."
Art, baking, music, dance…it all came to the same end when devoid of inspiration. Sighing, she rested her head on the piano's keyboard.
"Something wrong, Kels?"
The words, spoken in a light whisper just above her ear, sent her head flying and thrill down her spine. Luckily, her male companion moved in time to avoid a knocked skull.
"Um. Hi Ryan. I'm just working on something for my Composition class."
"Really?" a look of interest sparked in eyes that reminded her of a calm lake, and for a moment she forgot to breathe, "can I listen? If you don't mind, I mean."
Reality came crashing back down to crush the euphoric feelings, however, "well," she shrugged helplessly, desperately ignoring the heat she could feel coming upon her, "I don't really have anything written yet, so…yeah."
Leaning lightly on the piano (it was a baby grand, after all, and deserved some respect), one blonde eyebrow rose to express his disbelief, having taking in the many piles of crumpled paper surrounding her, "you're kidding, right? The 'Great' Kelsi Nielsen, unable to write a song? The Playmaker?"
"I know, I know. It's just that," one frustrated hand rubbed at her face, briefly stopping to pinch the bridge of her nose before moving on to ruffle at artlessly disheveled hair, "what I write, or at least what I enjoy writing anyway, is…you know, fun songs. Romantic songs, or at least dance numbers," she rushed to explain, hazel eyes meeting blue for a second, he nodding in understanding. Immediately she turned away, blush rising to her cheeks as she motioned a hand helplessly at the mess she'd created, "I'm not exactly the most proficient at…other stuff."
Although he had asked her to Senior Prom, of his own choice he'd explained (rather than because of his sister, as she'd first assumed), and they had been spending more and more time together since entering Julliard (though that could be easily explained by the fact that the only people they knew were each other), she didn't know how to react to him sometimes. There were moments when she wanted to swat him for being just like her younger brother, and then there were other times when, heart pumping in her chest, she couldn't help wishing that he'd take her in his arms and…
"…dance?"
Blinking rapidly, she flushed once more upon realizing that she'd entirely missed everything he'd said, "um, sorry? I spaced out there for a second. Could you repeat…?"
"No problem," he smiled in forgiveness, "I was just asking if it would help any to get the advice of someone who does dance for a living."
Defensiveness rose to the surface, unbidden as she nudged him gently with a curled hand, "You don't just 'do dance,' Ryan. You're a choreographer."
"Yeah, well, at this point all the teachers see me as is an uppity Freshman," the smile he showed her was a clear distraction from what he must really be feeling, having found a side of Julliard he hadn't expected. It was one thing to be a big fish in a small pond, and another to be a prodigy in a school of geniuses.
She could sympathize more than he would ever know, "Better than being seen as a mouse."
"You're not a mouse, Kelsi," he contended immediately.
"Yes I am. A little, quiet, brown mouse."
"Well, then, you must be the most attractive mouse I've ever seen," he said it smoothly, without faltering as his eyes fell from view within the shadow of his hat's brim, but that didn't stop her heart from freezing minutely within her chest. Then, in a sudden move that startled her, he took a place beside her on the bench, elbows propped up on the lip of the piano, "so. What is it about this assignment that makes it so hard, anyway? It's not like you're stuck under the pressure of Sharpay breathing down your neck, or anything."
Kelsi wet her lips, brows furrowing slightly as she looked anywhere but at him, trying to find a place to begin, "well…we were talking about how the music of any theatrical number or movie can have an emotional impact upon the audience. The right score can either make you want to get up and dance, or follow the Hero, even if they're an antihero," without thinking, Wicked's 'Defying Gravity,' came to both mind and fingertips, the young composer playing her favorite part of the piece without thinking, "or it can make you hate a villain immediately, while still explaining their reasoning," this time it was The Scarlet Pimpernel that arose, 'Falcon in the Dive,' her favorite dark piece, that appeared.
"And?" a gesturing hand motioned her onward, expression still genially questioning.
A sigh punctuated the empty classroom, her breath scattering the nearest pile of crumpled papers near her, resting on her instrument of choice, "so…she decided that we would each be assigned an emotion to write about. And I drew…'anger.'"
"Okay. Still not seeing what the problem is."
"Anger, Ryan. They want me, the East High 'Playmaker' of all things romantically clichéd," her eyes dodged his for a second before continuing, "to write about Anger."
His shrug only reemphasized her belief that, beneath all the glitzy costumes and jazz squares, he was still just a guy, "so you get the chance to try something new. What about it?"
"You're supposed to be sympathizing with me here, Ryan, not backing my teacher."
"I could," if the grin he shot her wasn't so annoying, she would have found it adorable, "but that wouldn't help you get your homework done, now would it?" pale brows wiggled over laughing eyes, form slouched so that he could look her straight in the eyes.
"Ryan!" her hand swung out to lightly swat his resting form with her hat, only to be defeated as he used his own fedora as a defense.
"See, I'm helping you get into the emotion already!"
"Ryan."
"It's really not that hard, when you think about it. All you have to do is remember what Sharpay's put you through," he then proceeded to exhume all her past hurts as though they were mere everyday occurrences, ticking them off one by one upon each of his long fingers, "there was when she had our concert pianist do a remixed version of your Twinkle Town duet, for example. And then there was how she had 'Music in Me' transposed into a different key, and music genre."
"Not to mention how she forced you into the position of being our Spa pianist, and then how she banned the Junior Staffers from performing for the Star Dazzle award."
The urge to smack him again, for real this time, came upon Kelsi with rising force as he continued without thought, "and then when she tried to get me, to get you, to give me the music for Senior Year musical lead. And then there was when Gabriella left for Stanford, and Sharpay jumped in to take her part. And--."
"Okay, okay! You can cut it out now, Mr. An-Elephant-Never-Forgets," a roll of her eyes later, she was pretty irked. Both at her friend for his seeming obtuseness as well as due to certain suddenly remembered experiences, "I think I've tapped into the emotion you're aiming for, thanks."
"Always willing to oblige."
"Still," ire turned to speculation as her mind took a thoughtful turn, "I don't think I had it that bad. I was just an underling. A 'Non-Player Character.' Most of what she did to me was backhand damage. She never put a lot of effort into sabotaging me--I wasn't a big enough player."
"Until you stood up to her, that is."
"Yeah, but by then I had friends, so it didn't matter anymore. Everyone else got the brunt of it, instead," a thoughtful pause left her with her chin resting in an upturned palm, "I walked in on Troy ranting once. It was pretty intense--I don't think he realizes just how good he is with impromptu performances. And that's not even touching what she's done to Gabriella."
"Yeah," the tides were suddenly turned, and the blonde youth abruptly found hisself between a metaphorical rock and hard place, remembering his own part in each of the situations as they flashed before his eyes.
She continued without thought as her mind came to a disturbing revelation, however, mind suddenly counting back instances and coming back troubled, "I think you received the brunt of it, though. I mean, you've been dealing with her schemes your entire life. That's not to mention when she switched you out for Troy in your Huma Huma song. And then for any song in the talent show, period. And then when she said all those horrible things to you, in the recital room."
"You remember that, huh?" surprise, and the slightest bit of ironic self-aimed humor, lighted his features. So that for a second he wasn't Evans, the performer, rather merely Ryan. Gentle, underappreciated, down on himself, wonderful Ryan.
"How could I forget it? I was an unwilling audience to her breaking your heart!"
The two students mere sat and stared at one another, his heart warm with a feeling he couldn't describe as they shared a single moment of understanding.
Which broke as blood abruptly rushed to her face and ears until they burned with indescribable fury, "um, anyway. So…I think I can write it now. You've been a big help, really. I'll just have to keep going over what I felt in the past. And over, and over."
The rueful smile she sent his direction seemed to break him from his stupor, blue eyes blinking rapidly as he nodded without thought, "…right."
"And over."
Ryan's blank expression took a sudden switch into heavy irony, recognizing her emerging smile for what it was, "right, Kelsi."
"And over."
"Kelsi…"
"And knowing Sharpay, I'll just have to watch a few minutes of our past performances on video to get everything just right. Thanks Ryan," she stood to leave, snatching up the varying wads of crumpled paper into one large ball, then after throwing them away returned for her bag. It was only upon returning that she looked her friend in the eye, his own expression half amused and half unfocussed as he sat astride the piano bench.
She didn't know what made her do it. Impulse had never been her forte, and while it had served to create quite a few friendships, she was neither familiar nor comfortable with it.
So whatever it was that made her decide to place her lips upon his, she had no idea.
It had hardly been more than a brush, but if the red suffusing his face was any indication, his heart was beating just as hard as her own.
"See you later, Ryan."
She left him sitting there, mouth hanging open and breathing harsh. Eyes filled with cap-topped curls and a shy smile, as hope blossomed in his heart.
Days later a manuscript could be found, carefully wrapped and lovingly slipped under his dorm room door. And at the top of each page the title blazoned, making his heart pound.
'An Injured Soul: A story of anger felt in defense of another,' by Kelsi Nielsen.
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AN: All that I know of Julliard comes from "Everwood," and "August Rush." If I got anything wrong, please forgive me. And my family really does have hat wars, in which we attack each other with hats, since each one of us has trademark headgear. So that part wasn't imagined.
This started out as a drabble, and then exploded. That's the only explanation I have for it. I may add a part two, from Ryan's POV, but I'm not sure at this point. -shrugs-