Without a shadow of a doubt, it was strange waking up in a bed. Everything about waking up that morning was strange, actually, but the soft mattress and warm blanket were certainly a large chunk of it. The seventeen-year-old rolled over a few times, unwilling to open his eyes in somewhat stupid fear that the unfamiliar sensations would vanish when he did. While they were closed he could bury his face in the plush pillow under his head, pull the blankets up to his shoulders, and inhale the scent of clean surrounding him. It didn't feel like a dream but it wouldn't have been the first time he woke up to have his hopes kicked in the groin.

Through the haze another of his senses was pulled to life as not so far away the sound of soft singing moved through the halls, leaving Daryan was unsure if it was soothing or freaky. He strained to hear the lyrics and put them to an over played song on the radio but all it served to do was tug him further along the string of consciousness. The lyrics were foreign, an entirely different language that took nothing away from their effect. Within minutes he was able to tack a label to them, pinning the language as German and the voice to a male. Though the singing could have almost passed for a lullaby, Daryan found it urging him to wake rather than fall back asleep.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he yawned, stretching his arms so high above his head that his muscles shook. His body was far more accustomed to waking on a floor that varied in degrees of cold and his brain wasn't far behind that sentiment. Having not yet opened his eyes he reached back and pulled the blanket, still warm from his sleeping body's heat, around his shoulders. Only when he was sure he had a decent grip on it did he opened his eyes which cringed in the light leaking from a nearby window.

Eventually his eyes settled and the world within the room didn't fade away; a promising start to convincing the skeptical brunette that this dream was a reality. The place was clean and organized, but not to that point it looked like no one lived in it. A book was open next to a notebook on the same desk an acoustic guitar case leaned against. Upon further inspection, he found the text in English but the notes in somewhat sharp, but still handwritten, German.

He tightened the blanket he'd wrapped around his shoulders before heading towards the door. More singing danced through it with the closer he approached and his foot had made it out the door before he paused to drop the blanket to the floor. Once again the world seemed cold without the blanket but he was used to it so it didn't cause any vulnerable actions like shivering to surface. Jamming his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he walked down the hall towards the voice, lead along by curiosity alone and as he got closer he could hear the faint, occasional plucking of strings from an acoustic guitar.

Daryan leaned against the opening that lead into the living room, watching the blonde sitting on the couch as he tenderly extracted a note from each string. There was a song loosely woven between the broken chords, unfamiliar but pleasant. He'd just closed his eyes when a sour chord made him flinch and the other curse in German.

"Every time!" There was a brief shuffling of papers before he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair.

Daryan moved forward with a roll of his eyes, reaching out to snatch the guitar without hesitation or thought. Klavier reached for it in response but was unable to get a decent grip before the other was out of his reach.

"Ah, you're awake and already being rude. You do get an early start," he said, his voice somber and faintly reminiscent of pouting.

"Lemme see that," Daryan flopped on the couch and bent a leg up to place his foot on the table, propping the guitar in his lap. He pointed towards the music that Klavier held in his hands, looking from them to him somewhat curiously.

"You play?"

"No, I just like making an ass of myself by pretending I can play," he replied with a straight face, taking the papers offered to him. He attempted to situate them but when they slipped for the third time he cursed a frustrated sound that blamed the papers for their inability to remain standing. Beside him, Klavier chuckled at his inconvenience before rising and seating himself on the table beside Daryan's bent leg.

"How's this?" He rested his arm on the other's leg and held up the music. Daryan didn't reply but instead situated his fingers on the frets and started a dance across the strings.

Klavier's voice soon rose up along side his playing after the shock of the discovery wore off; Daryan said he could play but what had come from his guitar wasn't what he had been expecting. It wasn't an act of simple practice and playing, there was something raw in his talent. Something inspiring that he had never heard in all his years flitting through the music world. When the song approached that area that he'd had such problems with, he was prepared to curse and explain where he thought the flaw lie but Daryan glided through it, playing entirely by ear and yet capturing the feeling of the German's notes. The vocalist stumbled, lost in a twisted mess that wasn't there for the other who continued to play as though he'd simply ignored that part of the piece. All he could do was watch and listen as the song gradually found its end. His gaze moved from Daryan's hands up to his face only to find it smirking in amusement at his own undoubtedly foolish expression.

"You're an incredible guitarist. How long have you-?"

"Seven years," Daryan shrugged, gently taking the pencil from behind the blonde's ear, "I got free lessons from a shop I worked at."

"Mein Gott, at ten?"

"You do what you have to," he scratched out some of the writing and replaced it with his own. His tone was calm, almost as though he was bored with the questions or was used to being asked about his playing regularly.

"Mm," Klavier agreed, faintly reminded of his own struggles to become a prosecutor at such a young age.

Daryan, however, was twisted in his own musings as he corrected notes and volume changes, occasionally lifting the guitar again to judge the sound. Once in a while, his eyes flicked up to find Klavier watching him play, most of the time finding his focus on the guitar or his hands as he played. So, when he looked up to find Klavier watching him, his face and expression rather than his fingers, he passed the guitar back.

"It's incredible," Klavier noted as he lowered the instrument into its case, "Despite not knowing the words you were able to capture the bare feeling of my song. Or do you speak German too?"

"Hardly," he snorted and crossed his arms, having already rose from the couch to drift around the room, "I was following a sheet of music. It isn't that hard."

"Nein, Daryan. You made it entirely your own," he smiled, propping the case against the far wall. Behind him, dark blue eyes were once again on him as he moved, watching with suspicion and a certain level distain that wasn't quite equated with hatred. It wasn't something beyond them that couldn't be overcome.

"You better not be getting all sappy on me, man," he warned, dropping his weight against the wall, "I don't hang with pansy-assed cry babies, you dig?"

"Of course not," the blonde chuckled, turning to show a look one might label as 'charming'. Daryan did but not without a bit of disgust at how fake it was in its flawlessness, "Just consider what I said."

They both moved for the kitchen, the topic shifting to the milder content of what they should have for lunch. Klavier started listing a variety of foods that the other hadn't even heard of before he suggested they go out. But before he stepped beyond the doorway, Daryan cast another look back at the case leaning near the window. It was stupid…a long shot…but what harm could considering really do anyway?