Sail Away
Chapter 1 - Virulent Vivace
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Hands stuffed in his pockets and collar turned up against the cold, a blond of smallish stature walked down the busy street. A gust of air rushed past his ears, making soft spikes bounce to an unknown rhythm. The cold seemed to go right through to his bones this time of year, no mater what and how many he was wearing. A forgotten though resurfaced and brought a soft smile to chapped lips. Mr. Wallace, the landlord, was supposed to have had someone fix his heater today. Unable to contain his eagerness to finally sit in front of it and gain some semblance of warmth for the first time all winter. Walking by the park near his building, a sudden flush of wind tore a yellowing flyer of a nearby tree. Glancing aside, the blond stared, transfixed, as it spiralled though the air performing acrobatic manuvers that he could only dream of before being whipped across and plastering itself to his face. It took a moment for it to register with most of his extremities having gone numb and a disgruntled groan escaped as he peeled the errant paper away, glancing over it content in the process.
MUSICIAN NEEDED!
Violinist needed for upcoming gig.
Auditions Tuesday 7th, 9am onwards at the Town Hall.
Payment negotiable...
Sapphire eyes managed to take in that much before a particularly strong and blood-chillingly cold gust of wind brought him back to his senses, or lack thereof, and he sped up, almost jogging the last block until his building.
As the decrepit looking building came into view, a smile tugged at his lips, or at least it attempted to, but the chattering of pearlescent teeth prevented the inviting muscular reflex. Clambering up icy steps, it was a short walk past the out of commission elevator to the concrete staircase. Emerging on the third floor, he gave off a pleased huff and continued down the hall and around the corner, teeth still chattering as a familiar door came into view. The frozen blond fumbled with his keys and jammed them into the deadlock, forcing the uncooperative door open with a creak. Once inside, he noticed two things. One, he was still clutching the flyer; and two, there was envelope on the floor just inside the door, as though someone had pushed it through the crack underneath. Past experience told him that this was bad news. A resigned sigh escaped his lips and he tugged it loose, opening it on his way in.
C. Strife,
Guy who was supposed to fix your heater called me to say he was in hospital. Fell of a ladder.
Could be a week before I find someone else.
B. Wallace.
P.S. Saw this and though you might be interested.
Cloud looked the attached paper and did a double take. It was a copy of the same flyer that had become acquainted with his face barely 10 minutes ago. Shaking his head, he put both aside and peeled off his coat, grimacing at the crunch it gave and the ice gave way and cracked. Throwing it in the general direction of the couch, he absently noted that Elmyra, Mr. Wallace's wife, had done his housekeeping again. The soft spoken brunette was always looking out for him, letting him know when she saw any jobs that might interest him. She always insisted on cleaning up for him. You couldn't refuse that woman, he'd tried and then come home to a clean house anyway. The Wallace's were really very nice people. Before she married Barret, Elmyra had a daughter to a previous marriage. A girl. She died a few years ago, the victim of a hit and run accident. Despite a thorough investigation, they never found the person who ran her down.
Wandering toward his room to change, he found another note, perched atop a pile of clean neatly folded laundry. Muttering something about the waste of paper, the spikey-haired blond picked up the note, and with a niggling sense of foreboding, proceeded to read it.
Cloud,
Very sorry about the heater. Poor fellow got into an accident at the appointment before ours. He broke his leg and had a concussion and now he won't be able to work for a while.
Oh, I did your laundry for you too. And straightened up the place a little.
Hope you're well dear!
El.
P.S. Saw this while I was out this morning and thought of you dear.
Cloud glanced at the affixed paper, uttering a stream of profanity before putting it with the other two. Struggling with the rest of his clothes, he somehow managed to kick his pyjama pants under the bed. He knelt down to retrieve it, but paused when his fingertips that were slowly regaining their movement and feeling brushed against a familiar hard surface. Reluctance apparent, he pulled it out and opened it. Memories assailed him as the familiar smell of varnish permeated the air. Allowing himself a few moments of remembrance, he intended to close the case but off of their own accord, his fingers brushed against the varnished surface of the wood. The taste of haunting music overwhelmed his thoughts and a sense of calm enveloped him. Closing the lid with a snap it was pushed back to its resting place under the bed. He hadn't played in ages; he probably wasn't even any good any more. With thoughts of his fingers dancing across taut strings, Cloud grabbed the wayward pants from beside the case and finished getting ready for bed. His last thoughts before sleep found him were of something his mother used to say; once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is fate.
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Sunlight filtered through the slits in the blinds, landing on a peaceful face and stirring the beds occupant to wakefulness. Grumbling, Cloud rolled over and glanced at his clock. 8:17 am. Plenty of time to get ready. Cloud caught himself there. What did he need to be ready for? He had Tuesdays off and he had nothing to do today. For good measure, he glanced up at his calendar to confirm his thoughts, and groaned. Loudly.
Elmyra, it seemed, decided that the audition that had tried to suffocate him yesterday was important enough to warrant putting it on his calendar. Sweet woman; sweet, manipulative woman. Now he had to go or else feelings of guilt would plague him for causing El so much trouble. Thirty minutes and a resigned sigh later; he was out of bed, dressed, had eaten breakfast and was on his way to the Town Hall, black case safely stashed in his bag.
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Turning the corner at the end of the street, Cloud barely managed two steps before he collided with someone, or something, that would have knocked him off his feet, had that something not managed to catch him at the last second.
"Whoa, careful there!" Cloud reflexively looked up at the sound of the smooth clearly male voice, and quickly looked aside, a rosy flush settling on his cheeks. Daring to glance up again, he found piercing violet eyes looked apologetically down at him, seeming to bore into his very soul. "Sorry." He muttered glancing back down again, blushing and turning his head to stare at the concrete. "No hey, completely my fault."
Cloud couldn't resist the compulsion to look back up at this stranger. The perfectly chiseled face wore an earnest expression, a lot like a puppy that wants praise. Cloud couldn't help a small smile at that.
"I'm Zack by the way." Zack held out his hand, violet eyes beseeching him to take it. Cloud accepted, surprised at how warm it was. "I'm Cloud." he muttered in his soft tone. Zack ran his free hand through smooth black spikes grinning at the smaller blond. "Where you headed?" Cloud found himself answering before his mind could intervene. "Town Hall." Zack perked up at this. Cloud eyed him warily, wondering if he should take that as a cue to run away. "Me too! Mind if I tag along?" At the smile that had lit up Zack's face, Cloud found himself unable to refuse him. Not that he actually wanted to anyway. He also found to his surprise that he was smiling back. "Sure…if you want."
Zack smiled, softer this time.
"Of course I do, Spike." He reached out and ruffled Clouds hair affectionately, catching sight of his watch at the same time. "Damn! I'm late! Come on, Spikey!" Zack seized a rather dazed Cloud by the hand and dragged him down the street, expertly navigating his way toward the Town Hall.
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As they neared the rather large building that was in a much better state than Cloud's apartment building, the sound of a crowd of excited people became clear. Zack began to slow down, allowing Cloud the opportunity to catch his breath. Inching closer to the end of the street, Zack peered around the corner, jumping back almost instantly as if bitten.
"Hadn't counted on all those people being here… We'll have to go the back way. Come on, Spike!"
Again, Cloud found himself being dragged, this time down a back alley that led to a door at the back of the hall. Rethinking his choice to travel with the charismatic stranger, the spikey-haired blond observed that Zack appeared to be well practised in hiding from mobs of screaming girls. Once inside Cloud heard Zack heave a sigh of relief. "You do that often?" The words had escaped him without him even being aware of what he was saying. While Cloud was inwardly mortified at his behaviour Zack just gave him a grin.
"Often enough. Come on, Spike. We have an audition to get to!"
And so Cloud found himself being dragged for the third time that day, through a maze of doors and corridors, until finally emerging in a large room. There were a lot of people sitting around the edges of the room, most tuning their instruments, some sitting quietly on their own in any space they could claim for themselves. A table with four empty seats was situated at the head of the room, presumably for whoever was judging them, so to speak. Cloud found himself getting a little nervous. Zack must have noticed because he gave him rather a cheesy smile. "I'll have to leave you here for now, Spike, but I think we'll be seeing each other really soon."
With a wink and a wave, Zack slipped out the door they had just come through, leaving Cloud to wonder what the hell had happened to his morning.
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TBC