A day had passed after that horrid event. After that horrid, brutal killing. And still, Roderich Edelstein found himself shocked. He just couldn't believe something such as that would ever happen right before his eyes. He only read books that had murders in them, or, scanned through it on the news paper over the death of someone. But he had never even once thought that he would see such a even happen before his very eyes. Not only taking a witness to a beating, but, a murder. A murder for God's sake!
Though there was not only shock dwelling inside him, but, rage. Part of it was because of how the men that killed that person beaten him first. They also did it before his wife. The poor woman. Even Roderich had to feel sorry for her after she had to go through such a scaring experience. Yet, his anger was also aimed over another reason, that had to do with that night. What the police said, and did, after he had called them, and went down to give a witness point of view. He remembered it clearly.
Lights flashed from the police cars as still, the vehicles parked in place. The woman, that watched as her husband was killed, had been talked with to by two police officers. She sobbed and cried still, but, she tried her best to keep herself together and answer questions. Three other officers, and a set of ambulance, were putting the dead body inside the back of the large truck, taking the body out from the area and more then likely to a morgue. Some people were either looking out the windows or were out in the streets to watch the thing. Others just seemed to have been used to such events, and went back to sleep, knowing that there was not a thing they could do. There were a few reporters around, taking notes and asking questions to the police. But it was not as hectic as it sounds. In fact it was a bit... calm. As if it was nothing new.
Roderich took notice to that of course, as he stood there on the sidewalk, a officer seeming in his early 50s speaking to him. The chief officer, that is.
"Are you the one who called the incident in?"
The man asked as he neared Roderich, looking at him with a calm, but stern gaze. The Austrian of course looked back at him, and gave a light nod as a part of his response.
"Yes Sir, I am."
He replied calmly. The officer then took out a small notebook, a pin, then flipped a few pages. When he found a clear one he stopped, and got ready to write down what information that could be given.
"Alright then. What all did you see?"
He asked. Roderich told him of course. That he simply heard a scream, went to the window to see who had yelled out, to be able to watch as that poor man being punched, kicked, and yelled at all during the proses. And eventually, the seemingly leader of the group of men took out a gun after the others backed away, and shot about four bullets into the already dieing man's chest.
"What else after that?"
The chief urged the young European to tell more. Roderich paused, then, replied.
"I heard him tell his men that they had to go in German, then, they got in the car and rode off."
The Austrian said. It was then the officer stopped his quick writing and looked back up at the younger male. The almost careless expression across his face turned into something. Roderich did not know how to describe it, but it may have been collected. The elder then lowered the notebook, which Roderich glanced at in sight question, wondering why the man had stopped when he said that.
"Yeah? Did you see what one of these men looked like? Or no?"
He asked. The Austrian blinked in a bit of confusion, wondering where that had come from, though in any case he answered.
"I did. The man that shot him that and that also drove the car off was the only one I saw though. He had pale skin, and wore a black long over coat with a black fedora hat. He also wore a gray scarf. But... his eyes were red. And his hair a strange color. Almost silver. Yet, I think that, well... it was most likely ivory."
He replied. He remembered it all well, though he was slightly hesitant on telling that much of the description. Not because he feared that man that killed. But because of how strange it was. How that warning from the desk keeper still lingered in his mind. A man with red eyes and ivory hair. That German speaking killer fit that description, that was certain.
"I see."
The officer said. He then closed his notebook, put it in his pocket along with his pin, letting out a quite sigh.
"That is all then Mr. Edelstein. You may retun to your home."
The elder spoke as he went to turn around. Roderich narrowed his eyes, becoming even more confused. Did the head of New York police just brush off the description of the man just now?
"Wait, Sir... Aren't you going to write that down?"
Roderich held out a hand to be sure that he had the man's attention. The male looked over his shoulder since his back was turned on the brunette. He did not even think over the answer for at lest a second or two.
"No, I am not. It does not matter after all."
He replied. Does not matter? He just gave a description of a killer, a mobster no less, yet the chief of police said that it did not matter? Roderich narrowed his eyes slightly, both irritation and anger growing inside him from that ridiculous response.
"But it does, doesn't it? It could come into good use, and help you find the killer faster, surely simply writing the information down to remember, matters."
The Austrian spoke. It was then the chief quickly turned around, now glaring at the young man in anger from his urge to put down the description, and snapped at him.
"Do not tell me how I should do my job, boy! And do not stick your nose into business that isn't yours!"
Roderich returned the glare. He did nothing wrong, he was only trying to help, only trying to get that ruthless killer behind bars. Yet he was being yelled at for doing so. He could only just give a look of his disapproval. Needles to say the Austrian was not happy with what he was told one bit what so ever, letting his hand back down to his side. The officer paused, then, sighed deeply, the look of anger slowly going from his features, but he still kept his own stare.
"You're new here, aren't you? To America I mean."
He asked then. Roderich blinked a few times. He did not know that that had to do with anything. But, he answered no less.
"I am."
He simply said. The chief glanced to the left, then to the right quickly, before taking a step towards the younger male.
"Then you have no idea how things work here. To cut it short, the man is innocent of his dealings. End of discussion. Now. Go back to your apartment, and stay there. Don't bother calling us again if you see that man."
After the elder said what he had to, he slowly turned, to only then walk off, calling his men and telling them that they had to get back to the station.
Roderich just couldn't believe this. How could he say that? That man was not innocent, he was far from it in face. He just killed come one! Yet the lead of police in New York just brushed the fact off right when he told the man the description and was now walking away as if nothing had happened! What kind of law does this country have? Were the other states like this? Unbelievable. The Austrian narrowed his gaze even more, the rage inside building more and more as he watched the so called "police", got in their cars and dive off. While the woman herself was taken into one of the cars, and was possibly being escorted home.
How could they just let this whole ordeal go?
Roderich sighed deeply through his nostrils. He could not stay over such a memory. He supposed that he had to move on and get with his life. Thus, he went into his pocket as he stood before the building that he took residence in, going into his navy blue dress pants, to only then pull out a sheet of paper, and, a map of the area, both of which he just got from the nice man at the desk.
Before this, he did try to ask questions. Over that man with red eyes. However, Mr. Williams, as the man was known, only replied that he should just keep away from him, and to not even make eye contact. It was dangerous enough to do so.
"But if he insists to approach, let him, speak with him. It would be a better choice to do so. Other wise you may anger him. And in turn... it could be the death of you. So please, be careful."
That was all he could get out from him. It was quite annoying. He only wished to know why this man was feared. Why not even the police could stick up to the gangster, and only cower away. He may find out soon enough over who the man is. But for now, he will have to start looking for a job for this afternoon.
"Alright..."
He said to himself aloud as he unfolded the paper. First of the five listings upon it, was:
Shrewd.
That was what it read. Of course, it was a classical music dance club that was about five blocks over. All had an opening for a pianist. For that was where he would start first, to see if there was a chance that he could get the job. Thus, putting the paper back in his pocket and keeping the map at hand, just in case (not that he would admit it was because of his sence of direction). He turned to his right and began to walk through the small crowd, this time actually having room to breath, and having more of a chance at finding his destinations.
No luck. He did find the place. However, the position had been filed just this morning. Just his luck. He then went to try to other places.
'The Forsance, Numbra, Notes of Art'.
All turned down the Austrian, without him even giving an example of his skills. Even if he insisted to try, they still sent him on his way. He knew why of course. Though this part of town was meant for Europeans, does not mean that the people that gave the jobs enjoyed them. He could tell of course, by the looks they had in their eyes. They knew that he wasn't from America and turned him down. They wanted American players in their band, not out of country civilians. At lest he did try. And he didn't give up hope. Not yet. There was just one more place.
'The Palmpay.'
A strange name for a place that held classical music, however, it was his last shot. So, taking in a deep breath, he headed for it's very location, which was a mile away, taking a quick glance at the map as he did so. And, though he had a small bit of trouble finding the place even with the map, he finally made it to the front entrance. He scanned over the building slowly. It was a fair size. It had a classy look to it, healthy sets of four palm trees on each side of the building, with circled windows, two of each of the front side, high so that no one can really see through them, and a almost light blue painted outside, the roof over lapping the building slightly to have a silver and gray metal outline to it. And in italic, curved letters in a, considered for a building, small print read the name of the club, right above the silver and gray metal doors, which also had a circled window in each one. All in all, the building looked quite nice.
He read the sign that was put before the door.
'Closed. Opened To Auditions Only.'
Well, he should head on in then, since he was one of those that were to audition. Thus he walked inside, putting the map in his pocket after folding it back up, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He pushed to first set of the doors. Then noticed that it lead him to the front room, with nice wooden flooring and light blue painted walls, with dark blue ruffled cloths hanging from the ceiling on each side, and a nice chandelier over head. My. It looked quite nice indeed.
Looking at the next set of doors, he walked over to them, and pushed one open himself. He blinked slightly in slight amazement. There were many tables around, covered with white cloth, and fresh candles placed in the middle. The performance room large, and there had to be at lest 100 of these tables, while there was still enough room for a wooden dance floor. The bar from afar was not bad either. It was large, dark blue with silver as the slide table color, and dim lighting. But the stage was what really took Roderich. It was huge. Enough to fir a while orchestra. Which it more then likely did. With light wooden floors, a half circle in the background giving light to the stage, while dark blue ruffled cloth surrounded it above and around, becoming thinner and thinner as it circled around the whole room. But, there, upon the stage, stood his calling. A Grand Piano. He stared at the large, black and white instrument, but he could not admire it for to long.
"Excuse me."
Someone said from his left. His attention quickly went to the voice. There, stood a man, with short cut red hair, and had green eyes, wearing a bartenders uniform. And if Roderich was not mistaken, he had a Irish accent.
"Are you here to audition, sir? Or might you be lost?"
He asked calmly. The Austrian blinked a few times, then shock his head.
"Ah, no. I am here to audition. I'm sorry. I was just admiring."
Replied the young European. The man smiled widely, then chuckled, crossing his arms, seeming slightly amused by the apology.
"I see. Don't worry. It's good to know that you enjoy the looks of the place, just like most of everyone. But, anyways, my name is Hareld. I'm the manager. And you are?"
The Irish man, Harled, tailed off to let the Austrian fill in his words. Which he did.
"Roderich Edelstein. You are in need of a pianist?"
He asked. The Harled gave a few nods, while looking over to the stage, and at the wonderful piano.
"That we are. The last one, well, just quit..."
He trailed off as the smile across his face faded. He more then likely knew the answer, but, acted as if it was a good one. Roderich did not fully understand on why the man would let go of such a job that he more then likely did enjoy, but, did not press the matter.
"I see. Well, I suppose I am in a state to where I can take his position. That is if you will allow me."
Roderich told him. The man trailed his gaze back over to him, then, smiled once more.
"More then willing actually. The position has been empty for some time, along with a few others, but, they do not have as much of importance. But, in any case, give me your best shot."
The Irish male said. Roderich paused, and rose a brow. Was this man telling him to just go on stage and start off? That was a bit odd. The others at lest offered applications.
"Don't you need to know about my information first?
The young man asked. Harled shrugged lightly in response.
"All we need to know is your location, nationality, and if you just arrived to the country or not. That's all. You will just tell me now since that is all that is required."
He responded. Roderich blinked slowly. That was a bit unprofessional. Things like that irritated the Austrian. He wanted things to be professional. In these kinds of places, that is just how everything should be. However he could not complain in the situation he was in. He either excepted the way the man did things, or he would just have to leave.
"Very well... I am Austrian. My location 5022, Royals Street. I only arrived to the state just yesterday."
He replied while he closed his lavender hues. Harled smiled a bit wider, then, gave a nod in understandmeant.
"Good. Then, you may go play, and show me what you have. If I like it, you get the job. Sounds like a deal?"
The man asked. Roderich reopened his hues, then, gave a small nod, before doing as he was told without another word. He made way down the small set of stairs calmly, made way past the tables, through the dance floor, and eventually made it to the stage. Standing there before the piano for a moment, he took this time to admire it. Oh it had been some time since he had ever even seen such a wonderful instrument. With polished keys, reflecting the light, and its smooth surface. If he made this, it will be all his. He could play his beloved music once more. He only wished he could bring a duplicate of this very piano home so that he may also have the pleasure of doing the same thing whenever he pleased on his free time.
"Alright, start when you are ready."
Harled called out from afar as he took a seat at one of the tables, pulling out one of the fine carved wooden chairs to take that very seat. Roderich was snapped from his daze, and took a glance over to the man. With a small flush of embarrassment coming across his face, he cleared his throat, then, walked around the bench, taking his place. For a moment more, he looked at the keys through his glasses. Then he took in a deep breath as he closed his violet irises. Lifting his hands slowly, he placed them gently upon the keys. And know one of many songs by heart, he plaied the first that same to mind. Piano Concerto No. 21. Mozart.
It almost seemed as if his fingers were simply gliding through the precious keys. Pressing ever so gently. Hitting every note in perfect tone, at perfect time, at perfect rate. It was... Beautiful. The notes just sung out a pure and sweet melody that only a master could pull off. That only Mozart himself could pull off. Yet, Roderich Edelstein, was just as perfect. Maybe, possibly, better. And gently, but just barely, the young man moved with the music. Swaying his head with the gentle melody, as he always did tend to do. Becoming completely consumed with the graceful melody. As if he was apart of it. His face, remained smooth, calm. He was completely and utterly one with his music.
It was not to long, before he was done then. One he had hit the last not, he paused for a moment, then, slowly opened his orbs. The next thing he knew, he heard not only one applause, but, more. He looked to the side, seeing Harled accompanied by a few other people. Two dressed in waiter uniforms, while the others were also in bartender uniform. Four men, and two women. Clapping for him him.
"Well done! Well done!"
Harled called out as he stood from his seat. Roderich did the same, standing, to only then turn his body to face the others. He showed a small smile, then bowed his head.
"Thank you."
He replied, before straightening back up.
"No, thank you... I have not heard such perfection since Beethoven. Your truly sound to be a master my friend. I think it is needless to say that you have the job. When can you start?
He asked. Roderich felt his heart lift. FInally. Finally. Everything was coming together, in only after a short while of coming to this nation. His first step has been taken into his dream. And if everything goes well, if anyone should come to recognize him, he will one day be in a large orchestra. Living out what he enjoyed the most. Music.
"At any time."
Replied Roderich as a small smile came across his face.
"Grate! You will start tonight. 8:00 sharp, and do not be late. Alright?"
The Irish club owner smiled wider while crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Roderich gave a nod.
"Yes. Understood."
He replied.
"Then, for now, our waiter will show you around, alright. Feliciano, will you please do the honors?"
The male asked. The young waiter, which looked about 18 years of age, with short brownish reddish locks, and seemingly closed eyes, smiled widely from his name being said. From him being able to show this new person around the club.
"Ve~! I will!"
He replied happily. Roderich blinked a few times while looking at the young man, watching as he neared over to him. Odd. The boy seemed... strange. He looked rather happy, chearfull. Yet he also held an Italian accent, his voice even sounding somewhat hyper. Though he did look sweet, Roderich could tell that he was going to find some sort of annoyance with him.
"Here Mr. Roderich! Follow me this way."
The little Italian said as he gripped the taller man's hand gently, tugging him to follow. Roderich of course did not take to kindly to the touch, and huffed quietly. He had to hold himself from snapping at him for so suddenly gripping his hand, because if he did, the others may have not liked him yelling. So, keeping calm, he simply followed.
"Fine. But let go of me, if you would?"
He said in a smooth manner so that he would not seem rude while they walked off the stage.
"Oh, ok!"
The young Italian then did what he was told, letting go of Roderich, while looking over his shoulder, still having the almost goofy expression across his face.
"This way this way!"
Things started off from there. The young Italian showed him all around. First, the backroom, which was hidden behind the curled cloth next to the stage. There were dressing rooms, a rest room, and a lounging room where the musicians can relax in and listen to radio or read. Smoking, back there, was not aloud. But off the stage in the audience was allowed, along with smoking outside. Then, the bar, where the drinks could be mixed in ways Roderich could never even think of. He would much rather go with the wine they had, which was expensive, but, at lest he is allowed one free drink after a night of performance, from what Feliciano told him. Then, there was the orchestra room, which was also hidden by the cloth on the wall on the other side of the stage, where all the instruments were placed neatly and in order, for only their players to come and pick them up whenever they came back.
"Ve. That's about everything. If you have any questions at any time, or need help with anything, please do ask."
Feliciano said as he just kept smiling. Roderich blinked, then gave a light shake of his head.
"I have nothing in mind, but, thank you."
He replied.
"Alright then! Since I gave you the tour, you may go home! But remember to be here on time tonight, the boss gets angry if your not."
Roderich knew how the Italian knew that much. He looked like the kind of Person that would be late every now and then by sleeping over or playing around in his own manner. But, he would not say such a thing to the boy.
"Very well. Thank you once more."
The Austrian told him.
"It was a pleasure!"
The sweet Italian waiter said as he waved his hand about. Roderich let out a small the boy's constant smiling and over joyed expression did annoy the Austrian a tad bit, in a sense, he enjoyed it. Not that he would say so aloud. Only keep it to himself. Austria waved back, before turning around and heading for the door.
This surely had to be a good turning point for him. In all ways. And already, he had made friends so far with the people he is more then likely going to work with for a while.
The moment was here. Roderich stood there in his black suit, his collared shirt neatly placed, his white cravat tucked into the double breasted buttoned suit neatly. He kept behind the curtains next to the large stage, peeking out to see how many have shown. Needless to say, it was quite a crows. There were many people here. Men with the women, more then likely eating out for the night for a romantic evening. The bar was filled as well, men talking with one another over stories that would not really matter to one another. And the whole place looked quite nice. Was not even that loud. And now, the Austrian could not help but to be nervous.
"Hm..."
He said aloud.
"You alright there Roderich?"
Someone asked from behind. The European jumped lightly from the slight surprise, then turned around, looking at the man that had called to him so suddenly. Harled stood a few feet away, looking at the Austrian, then realized what he had done.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."
He said, rubbing the back of his neck as he showed a small smile to strengthen his apology.
"Ah, no, it's fine... But yes, I am. It's just that I have not played for so many people all at once."
Roderich spoke as he turned his head back around, looking back out into the crowd. Harled blinked a few times, then, crossed his arms, showing a slight smile.
"Nervous huh? Well, don't worry. It will go away once you start playing, I'm sure. Plus, you have nothing to worry about. With your talent, the people will absolutely love you."
The musician smiled at that very complacent. It did raise his confidence. Maybe he really did have nothing to worry about. These people were well into the musical arts if they were here after all. He just had to keep calm and do his best was all.
Then, suddenly, his thoughts snapped. He found his eyes slowly widened as they took notice to something. Or really, someone. Oh God... It couldn't be. No, please, it couldn't be. That mobster. That... That murderer! Roderich's eyes caught the man he saw from that night. Walking to the left side of the dinning area in the middle section. He recognized those that face. Those dangerous eyes, darting over to the few free tables, with that same smirk across his face as he kept his hands in his long black over coat pocket, the same fedora hat being worn as well. His ivory hair still peeking out from it though, resting around his features. Behind him followed seven other men, talking to one another at the moment. Over what Roderich did not know. But what he did not, was that evil person was here. And on the very night the Austrian was to play. Of course.
And what was strange... Was that he was being greeted by people he passed by. The men either called out to get his attention, said hello, which he returned with other words, and the women smiled and gave a gentle wave of their hands while also saying hello. And in a happy manner, as if they were glad to see him. All fo them.
"Harled..."
Roderich said to get the man's attention. The Irish club owner blinked a few times.
"Yeah? What's wrong, you sound troubled."
He returned with his own words.
"I am only wondering something."
Replied Roderich.
"Um, alright. Out with it then."
Harled replied, somewhat confused over Roderich's sudden change of mood. However the Austrian did not take much care, him now lifting his hand, to only point out to the now seating mobster, as he talked with his friends now.
"Who is that man?"
He asked. Harled moved closer, now standing next to Roderich and followed the trail of his pointing finger. When he saw the person Roderich was pointing at, he only took in a deep breath, and let it out into a deep sigh. Then he paused. It seemed as if he really didn't want to tell Roderich. Or really, he didn't. He would much rather walk off and not speak over it. However, he had no choice. Roderich would know at some point anyways. So, the Irish man spoke up.
"That man you're referring to is Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt... Look, I'm telling you right now, whatever you do, do not mess with him in any way. Do not even cock an attitude with him, alright? Especially when he is here. This is his favorite club after all."
Harled warned the Austrian, now looking at the new friend next to him. However, Roderich did not look back at him. He only focused upon the man now known as Gilbert, as he kept talking with his friends. Grate. To make it all worse, that monster comes here often.
"Everyone keeps telling me that sort of thing over and over. But I want to know why I must avoid him. I know that he is a mobster, but, is he truly that dangerous?"
The Austrian asked. The man next to him rubbed the back of his neck once more, and paused. But, he answered after a moment passed by.
"Look. You're new to the city. To the state, and country. So, you need to know this... The guy is not really just an ordinary little block mobster, going around and firing off. He owns the state of New York. Or most of it at lest."
Roderich then tore his eyes away from the man that sat afar, and looked at his Irish friend in surprise. At first, he did not know how to reply to that. He owned New York? Legally? Well, that was rather doubtful. He knew what Harled meant though, on how that evil man owned the state. It was just shocking. To hear such a thing. He never even thoguht gangsters could have such a power.
"You must be kidding. There is no way that that brute could own a state, or even a city for that matter."
The musican protested agent such a statement. Hearled sighed deeply, then shrugged while giving a few small shakes of his head.
"Well, belive it or not, he does."
He said.
"W-well what about the governor? Shouldn't he be the one in control of New York? And what about the police? If he is a mobster, shouldn't he be in jail?"
Roderich asked. He just couldn't believe it... A mobster such as that owning the whole state. Or, almost the whole state.
"You would think. But he knows the governor. Pays him off to stay out of his business more then taxes ever had before, and as for the police, the same thing. Paid to stay out of his dealings. And, besides the pay, there is also their lives. The guy could have those people killed with just a snap of his fingers with his own family. No questions asked. There are just that many of them, but, he is only related to one guy out of the whole gang now. Call themselves the Beilschmidt Family, in case you ask."
Harled replied. Roderich looked back outside, and at the same man that he had come to hate, without even meeting him personally. Gilbert seemed to have been ordering something for everyone at the table as he gestured to all his "friends" to the waiter, who nodded and soon went off.
"That's..."
Roderich trailed off. However the lights outside began to dim slightly. That was the que for the musicians to come out and take their places, the people now lowering their voices, while some then began to eat their food, waiting for just this moment to eat while the live music played.
"Ah. Show's starting. Look, just get out there and do your thing. Remember to focus on the music, you'll be fine. And don't worry about Beilschmidt. He won't bother you, alright?"
Harled gave a light pat to the Austrian's shoulder, while foot steps of many were heard from behind. Roderich looked over his shoulder, and at the man once more, giving a few quick nods. He then took a deep breath, while Harled left his side to only stand out of the way for the others as they carried their instruments long with them, such as violins, cellos, and flutes. Roderich quickly fixed the white gloves he wore for this occasion, then, walked out from behind the curtain, and continued forward to lead the fellow musicians to the stage. The dim lited half circle brightened slightly more as Roderich stepped on, feeling many eyes upon him, while the people clapped and whistled for joy as they watched the men and women take their spots on the stage.
And even though he felt many eyes on him, since he was new, most likely, he could feel his. Just staring. Watching him differently from all the others. Watching him in a way that he had never been in his life. Roderich just couldn't help but to tense a bit. The very same way he did just last night after that shooting.
While Roderich took a seat at his bench, he stole a glance over to where that evil man was, to only meet his dark red eyes. But across that pale face he could see a smile. A strange smile. Why was he looking at him like that? So fixed on him? Was it because he witnessed the shooting? What? Why wouldn't he look some place else?
Ugh, he had to snap out of it!
Forcing himself to stay upon the music he was to play, he straightened his back, and took a deep breath. Stay with the music. That is all he had to do for the next few hours.
Stay with the music.
So, closing his eyes slowly, he lifted his hands, and rested the covered digits on the smooth keys.
The music...
Pressing down gently on the first lining of notes, he started the whole orchestra off into a gentle symphony after the crowd was silent. Gliding his fingers cross the white and black keys with such ease. The notes ringing out in such a soft, soothing manner. And the more Roderich pressed, the more consumed he became with his music, as it helped him calm and take away his troubling thoughts. The violins soon followed his melody, then, the cellos. The flutes came in a few minutes after. And all of it combined into the wonderous melody of Prelude in E-Minor. Chopin. And in habit, Roderich moved just barely with the melody, his dark brown locks gently rocking back and forth with each small movement, him trying to stay in synch with it. To find comfort in it. Which he did. And hopefully will through this whole time he had to be on stage.
But even after all this time, he still felt those red eyes upon him. Watching him intently.
Three hours had passed now. Some of the people that were he a hour or two ago had left. But not many what so ever. In fact, almost everyone, after all this time, stayed to watch the new pianist play with such grace, harmony, and to them, beauty.
Gilbert thought just that. Beauty.
That man... That new little pianist. He couldn't find it in himself to look away from the beautiful little thing he had discovered just last night. And what a lucky little coinsidence. He could still feel that he had his smile across his pale lips as he watched the pretty European play out his wonderful music, it, now being the only thing he could hear.
Taking a small sip of his beer that he had ordered, this being his tenth one, he kept watching without any noise. He wondered if anyone else in the room noticed how the man's skin glowed ever so slightly from the light. How calm he seemed as he plaid along, while as his music became deeper into emotion, his facial expressions changed ever so slightly. Then as it calmed, it went back into its normal state. Gilbert just couldn't help but to even notice the little things about the man, such as the small smudge on the bottom right of his glasses. Was he going crazy over this beautiful man? Or was he just simply overly observant? He himself didn't fully know. The point was, that he enjoyed not only the new piano music that he had never heard before, but the musician himself.
"Brother..."
A voice that held a somewhat thick German accent spoke. Gilbert didn't have to look to see who it was. He knew that it was his little brother, Ludwig. Bothering him for some reason.
"What?"
He asked simply. The blue eyed German glance over at Roderich quickly, then back over at his elder brother.
"You have been staring at that man ever since he came on stage. You know that, don't you?"
He asked in a whisper, leaning over slightly so that Gilbert could hear him.
"So what? I can look at whatever I want. If you find it wired of me then get the fuck over it."
Gilbert said, to get his brother to back off of him. Which worked. Ludwig sighed deeply, while reaching out for his own drink and took a small sip himself, while the other men glanced at them then back to the stage where the music kept sounding out.
"Besides. You enjoy staring at that little Italian waiter that runs around here now and then."
The smile turned into a smirk as Gilbert said that. Ludwig tensed, then looked over at his brother as a deep flush came across his cheeks.
"Be quiet, I do not."
He snapped quietly, but Gilbert held up a hand to his brother's face to hush him up.
"Shut up."
He demanded. The blonde sighed deeply, hoping that the men behind did not hear what his older brother just said. However they more then likely did, which was why some were smirking down at him while the others held back a laugh. But they knew better then to say something while Gilbert was fixed. So, the red eyed German just kept watching with interest. Unable to look away for even a moment.
However, it was not long before the song ended. The last song. As the young pianist hit that last note, the lights slowly began to brighten, and then, applause could be heard all around, as all the musicians stood. Gilbert clapped his hands as well, his smirk still across his face, as he watched Roderich stand to his feet, and lightly bow to everyone.
Hm. How cute...
Then once the European sat back up, once more, he looked over at Gilbert yet again. The German smirked a bit wider once they made eye contact, then, he gripped his beer glass, lifting it slightly to personally show his appreciation to the Austrian. After, the European looked away from him, and began to walk off stage.
Oh, so damn cute.
Then, with the pianist leading the way off the stage, Gilbert still watched. Until finally he was out of sight.
"We should head home. The show is over."
Ludwig said as he stood up, grabbing up his gray coat and light gray fedora hat. The others got up as well, getting their own cotes, only some of them bringing their hast as well. They all, of course, had something to eat, but they would leave their plates there just like everyone else. However, Gilbert, kept his seat for the moment.
"You guys go on ahead."
He said suddenly, which made Ludwig, along with the other German gang members, stop in question. Ludwig rose a brow, wondering just what his brother was up to.
"Gilbert, it's late. We should be getting home."
Ludwig urged his brother to follow with them. Gilbert narrowed his eyes slightly, not liking how his brother was telling him what to do at the moment, then looked up at him.
"I said go. Start the damn cars. I will be out soon. Alright...? You two, stay with me. Follow me into the back alright? I want to see our new little pinist personally."
He said as he gestured to two of his friends, who in turn, kept their places. The younger brother paused, then, let out a deep sigh as he put his hat upon his head, then put on his coat.
"Fine. Just don't do anything. He's not a target."
He gestured for the others to go on outside. Gilbert smirked at that. Oh, no, he may not be a target to kill, or even harm for that matter. But was a target in some way no less.
Giving a small lick to his lips, Gilbert bushed himself out of the chair, straightened his coat, and gripped his own hat as he kept his eyes on those curtains that his the door to the back rooms.
He really wanted to see that adorable musician. Wanted to talk to him. Why? Yet another thing not even he really knew. He just had to.
"Come on."
He said, before walking forward and down the small set of steps, heading right for that hidden door, with his fellow mobsters following right behind him.
[ A/N: Alright, here is chapter two. I know it's long, but, I thought you guys may like it. I hope it does not seem rushed! I tried real hard to keep it interesting. Now... Please tell me if I should go on, or if you enjoy it! REVIEW! Thank you! ]
