Sharps & Hearts

Chapter 2: The Composed Composers and His Nightmare

Later That Night . . .

Roderich PoV

The room slightly spun as the bar tender brought out another round of little paper cups filled with a jelly like substance. I was never one to drink much, the occasional glass of wine or martini would do it for me, but some how Francis always got me drinking like I didn't have classes the next day.

"Well, mon cher, are you having a good time?" the drunk man asked with perfect clarity, as he grabbed two, well formed women by the waists.

The two women giggled like some of the younger students in my music class, and held on to Francis for support. I rolled my eyes and picked up another shot, chewed, swallowed, and exhaled. A small group of women had started to crowd around Francis and I, each thinking that if they could catch our eyes that they might . . . get lucky. Gently shooing another woman away, I made my way to Francis. I tapped on his shoulder, hoping that I could catch his eye for a moment, to tell him that I had had enough, and was going home. Instead, he turned around, abandoned the women and latched on to my arm.

"Now, now, ladies, have any of you heard of my little friend? Roderich to his close friends, there aren't many ladies, and Mr. Edelstein to his students. See how he squirms?" I stuggled to get away from the man, knowing what he was capable to get a little female attention when he was extremely drunk. "He hates to be handled like a girl, observe:"

Without warning, the man grabbed my other arm quite roughly, and pulled me into a deep kiss. Now, I am not against gays, but this was way too odd for me, seeing that I had to work with him the next day. But I was a wreck that night, it had been a while, so I let Francis take control. I relaxed as he tried to push deeper into the kiss, smirking as he found the solid wall of my lips preventing him. He didn't give up though. Francis was a master of seduction, not that I would ever fall for him, but the man knew his way around a body. As the shrieks and squeals of the surrounding women filled his ears, Francis let go of my arms and slipped his grip farther down, arms latching around my hips. That cocky bastard, he knew how much I hated that. My eyes flared open, along with my mouth, in shock.

But before he could get his slimy tongue anywhere near my mouth I broke the kiss. Which was followed by a sharp back handed slap from me. Slightly shaking, but still smiling, I turned around to leave, only to find women crowding around, trying to get their hands on Francis. I wormed my way out of the hordes of women, lucky that they rushed when they did.

I walked towards the exit, tossing some money to the bar tender and looking back at the Frenchman. He had gotten what he wanted, women filled every possible space around him, the floor, the bar, his lap. I shook my head, wondering if the French teacher would ever settle down and have a family.

The next morning . . .

Roderich PoV

I sat down at my piano, thankful once again that I had taken the principles advice and bought the small apartment behind the classroom that I worked in. It was quiet odd, though, living behind my place of work. It was very helpful when I woke up late.

I set to work, pulling out my composers sheet and played what I had already down. The notes filled the air, telling a story of loss and sorrow. The song was tittled, Weeping Days, it was for my late wife that had died a few years ago. As I neared the middle of the piece, a sharp, bitter note rang out. It broke the illusion of the song like a careless child blundering through a dainty spiderweb, still wet with the morning dew.

"Damn G Sharp." I muttered like a curse.

Scribbling on my note pad I failed to hear the well oiled click of the door behind me opening. I was so absorbed in my music that I also didn't notice the cat like foot steps echoing through the large room. Large, warm, and slightly calloused hands plunged my sight into darkness, my hands slipping on the keys, the song ruined. A hot and wet breath was exhaled in my ear.

"I thought I would find you here." whispered a needy voice.

"Yes, I'm here." I whispered back, my breath stolen by the thing behind me.

"Good." The voice purred.

Suddenly the bench I was sitting on disintegrated, a large black hole opening beneath me. I began to fall, slowly, and as I fell the hands covering my eyes were removed and I twisted, trying to see the face of my seducer. Even I twisted and looked, I could not believe it. Like every other night that I had been having this nightmare, the face I saw, was my wife's.

I woke, panting, the sheets twisted around my legs, trapping me, and cold sweat covering my chest and back. I sat up slowly, still in shock from my dream. i brought my knees to my chest and put my head in my hands.

"I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry." I whispered to myself.

I looked over at the picture on my bed side table. A lovely, young woman with bright green eyes and long brown hair sat on a tall back chair, a book of poems in her hands. She was smiling, she was laughing, she was ALIVE.

"Melody, my dear Melody." Tears dripped slowly from my eyes, landing on my chest.

"My Songbird."

Acidburn713's two cents: Don't sneak up on Roderich unless you want a detention.

So, yeah, this just came to me as I wrote and I think that Roderich wanted to have a dead wife and lots of internal conflict. So lets see was happens. XD

As always, if you have any thing to say to me just leave a comment on my YouTube, deviantArt, or even send me a review. Either way, all I care about is that you read my stuff, not the number of reviews.