Thanks to the person who told me about the names. I don't have word, so I have to rewrite everything on txt, & I start to get delirious. My ex's name slipped in there, woops! Sorry, I think I fixed it. Let me know if it happens again x

X

Ryan walked into the shed to find Troy sitting on the bench of a white Steinway upright. He slid off quickly and approached Ryan. His red toolbox was in the corner, next to Ryan's music.

"I can't believe these things are all out here," Troy commented, looking up at the loft.

"I know. It's sort of amazing," Ryan said.

"Yeah," Troy raised his eyebrows. "Amazing"He picked up his toolbox. "So, which one do you want to do first?"

"The Bosendorfer," Ryan answered immediately. Troy took a hard breath and sighed, looked at the enormous piano. "It must have cost a fortune."

"It was a gift," Troy mumbled. "Almost all of them were."

Troy put his tool box down beside the piano and snapped it open. He sat down on the bench and played the first key. "Good acoustics," he mumbled to himself. "You can mess around on the other ones while I'm doing this I you want to. As long as you stop when I tell you to."

"No, that's okay," Ryan said, folding down against the wall with blank sheets of music. "I'll just watch you."

X

Ryan completely lost track of time, and thinking, and breathing.

"There." Troy finished, playing the deepest, final key. "That's good, right?" he asked.

"Oh." Ryan started, dropping music sheets as he stood up. "Don't you want to try it out?" Ryan asked, as Troy placed his tools back in the box.

"No," Troy shook his head. "You can do it." He snapped the box shut. "I can come back and do the other ones in a day or two. I'll leave this here," he said, placing it in the corner, beside Ryan's rucksack. "You'll be here, right?"

"Yeah," Ryan nodded. "Wait." Troy stopped. "Don't you want to make sure it sounds alright? I could play something."

"Not really, Ryan -I'll see you later."

"Okay."

"And don't tell anyone."

"Promise," Ryan agreed as Troy hurried out.

X

"Ryan," Tamicka called as Ryan headed for the door early one morning. "Mrs. Bolton would like to see you, before you go out today."

"Oh. Okay," Ryan agreed.

X

Mrs. Bolton's bedroom was white. There was an enormous white bed, with lacy curtains around the edges and a window leading out to the balcony. Mrs. Bolton was in a nightdress under the covers. There was a wet rag in a bowl on the counter.

Mrs. Bolton looked at Ryan with her glassy eyes. "Are you having a nice time?" she murmured.

"Oh, yes," Ryan said. "The pianos in the shed are amazing-"

She shifted in her bed. "Let's talk about something else," she said abruptly. "What other things do you like to do? Do you like swimming? Or fishing?"

"Um...I guess I like swimming."

She sat back in her bed. "You should go swimming in the lake outside. It's good to do other things; don't you think?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ryan agreed.

She looked out the window. "You can go now," she breathed.

Ryan nodded. "I hope you feel better," he said. She continued staring out the window.

X

"Where have you been?" Troy asked, as Ryan entered the shed. He was tooling around with an old upright. "I had to raise the pitch on this one. Look what I found," he held up a coin. "It's from 1985!" he joked, placing it on the bench. "Why are you all wet?"

"I went swimming," Ryan replied.

Troy made a face. "Why did you go swimming?"

"I thought that your- someone, was trying to send me secret messages."

"Okay," Troy said, turning back to the piano.

Ryan sat down on a bench and played a random key. "Troy?"

"Yeah?" he replied, bent over his tuning wrench.

Ryan played another key. "How do you know how to do this?"

"I told you, my mom plays," Troy shrugged.

"I play. Pretty well, actually. And I don't really know how to do this." Ryan hit another key. "It takes years for professionals to learn how to do this-"

"I'm not that good-"

Ryan played a scale. "Sounds pretty good to me."

"I'm a fast learner."

"Why are you so evasive?"

"Why are you so evasive?" Troy demanded, spinning around to face Ryan. "We move around a lot. I don't know anything about you! And how the heck did you get my mother to agree to have you up here? She hasn't talked to anyone for years, and all of the sudden, out of the blue, she's got some prodigy from Juilliard snooping for secret messages! I'm trying to do you a favor, but if you going to get all nosy about it, you can go screw yourself." Ryan watched in shock as Troy stormed out.

X

"Playing with the penis again?" Zeke asked as Troy sat beside them in the bar later that night.

"I was at my dad's," Troy lied.

"We called him," Chad said. "He said he didn't know where you were."

"We told him you were probably with the piano boy," Zeke said. "He sounded kind of pissed."

"I thought he'd be proud of you," Chad mused.

"Seriously, Chad. Not today." Troy growled. "I'm not kidding around."

"We just think it's sort of weird, right Zeke?" Chad asked.

"He is kind of a nerd, Troy," Zeke said.

"Yeah, and we miss you," Chad sighed, sloppily leaning his head on Troy's shoulder.

Troy pushed him off. "Shut up," he moaned. He took a gulp of his beer. "I just had to help him fix something. I'm done now."

"Kinky," Zeke leered.

X

"Troy, hold up a second," Troy's father said as he tried to sneak past the living room later that evening.

Troy paused, guiltily. "What dad?"

"Where have you been?" he asked. He turned the volume on the TV down to a dull buzz.

"I was at the bar with Chad and Zeke. I swear, you can ask them!" he blustered.

"Did you go to your mother's today?" he asked evenly.

"No! I swear, dad, I haven't been there at all!" he defended. "I was up on the mountain, but I didn't go to the house. I swear on my life. I wasn't even near it."

"Were you with that boy from Juilliard?"

"...yeah. It's just, he doesn't have any friends, and...he's a really nice kid."

"I'm not sure how I feel about this Troy."

Troy took a deep breath. "I won't be going up there anymore, anyway. I was helping him fix the shed-"

"The shed?" his dad interrupted.

"Yeah, the door was broken. So I helped him fix it. And now it's fixed. So I won't be up there. At all. Anymore."

"You know, I'm just looking out for you. I want to protect you."

"Yeah, I know," Troy nodded.

"You can breathe now," his father joked, raising his eyebrows. "Good night, Troy."

"Good night, dad."

X

Ryan was slowly searching the living room. Tamicka was upstairs, with one of the doctors. Ryan opened a wooden box, and jumped when the first notes of Mozart's #25 hit the air. He shivered.

"I'm not being nosy," he murmured, looking at a photo of baby Troy strangling a teddy bear. He ran his fingers across the antique books. Most of them were German music texts, score compilations or texts by Juilliard professors. They all were smeared with annotations, sometimes in German, sometimes in Italian.

Ryan was flipping randomly through a text by Dubal, occasionally reading the notes. He turned to a page in the middle and scanned a hasty note in the margin. He flinched and nearly dropped the book. He quickly shut the book and stuffed it back in the bookcase, racing out of the room.

He nearly ran Tamicka over on his way out the door.

"Where are you rushing off to? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Nothing- nowhere," Ryan stammered.

She took him firmly by the shoulders. "Calm yourself down. Now, where is the fire?"

Ryan got a hold on himself. "It was...inspiration?"

"Inspiration?" Tamicka repeated.

"Yeah," Ryan lied. "I was working out this harmony and-"

"Alright, alright," Tamicka interrupted. She released her hold on him. "Go on. And Ryan?" Ryan stopped at the door. "I don't want to find you looking for inspiration anymore in this house. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Ryan nodded before bowing out.

X

"Troy?" Ryan asked. He had intercepted Troy on his way out of the bar on Saturday night.

"What do you want?" Troy demanded, charging on toward his car.

Ryan rushed behind him. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. About what I said. I was being nosy." He took a deep breath and looked expectantly at Troy.

"I accept your apology," Troy said, unlocking his truck. He opened the door and climbed in. Ryan kept waiting. "I can't keep helping you. I'm sorry. I have a lot of stuff to do."

"That's okay," Ryan breathed.

"I don't have time to be a slave to some nosy student."

Ryan nodded. "I completely understand."

"Okay. Right. Well, I'll see you later." Troy started his engine.

"Um, Troy, before you go, could you maybe give me a ride? Last time, I swear."

Troy sighed. "Where's the bike?"

X

Troy was slowing to make the tight curve, before the dirt road, when Ryan spoke up.

"Do you think we can still be friends?" he asked, anxiously. "You don't have to help me with the pianos. It's just, it's sort of scary sometimes, being up here alone. Not that I want you to come up here. But, I mean, maybe we could hang out sometimes, when you're not busy?"

Troy pulled out onto the dirt road. The lake appeared in the distance. Troy slowed the truck to a stop. Ryan stared at troy with his wide, brown eyes. Troy looked away and took a deep breath.

Troy looked back at Ryan. Then he made a sound and kissed Ryan on the mouth.

Troy jerked back and wiped his mouth. "Oh my God, get out!" he exclaimed, revving the engine.

"Troy?" Ryan said, fearfully.

"Get out. I'll come back tomorrow and tune your pianos, okay? I'll do whatever you want, just get out of the car. Please!" Troy begged.

"Okay," Ryan agreed, shakily exiting the car. The engine stalled loudly before Troy finally through I into reverse and raced back into the trees, with the motorbike crashing along in the back.