Disclaimer: This is a story of fiction, and never happened, I do not know, or own the people included in this story, it is written for entertainment purposes only, and I gain no profit from writing such things.
Dates in unexpected places
We're walking along the street and thank god it's not pouring like it was earlier, it took me like 20 minutes to straighten my hair this morning, 20 minutes I could have spent that time doing something else, like reading.
I don't know where we're going, and that unnerves me, I want to know, I like knowing these things. But no, every time I causally ask, Brendon simply laughs, he laughs, if I wanted him to laugh at me, I'd tell a joke, but I didn't tell a joke, so he shouldn't laugh.
Okay, so maybe I'm a little…paranoid, or even bitchy, but it's not my fault, I swear. Wait, I'm blaming someone else, oh my I'm becoming my uncle, eugh, it is my fault.
Except I don't actually believe that.
"Ryan?" I snap my eyes to Brendon's when I hear him say my name.
"Yea," I say, stopping and standing in front of him.
"I said we're here," he says gesturing to the building I'm standing next to. I look up and we're by some shabby apartment complex, erm why?
"And where is here?" I ask, smiling nicely as I fold my hands in front of my waist.
"Here," Brendon smiles, tell me, gah I hate secrets.
"Fine, if you're going to be like that," I say walking towards the door to the building.
"Like what?" He questions, eyebrows raised.
"Not telling me where we are," I supply looking around.
"If I told you it would rui-"
"Quit yapping, start acting," I interject; he frowns at me then smiles and opens the door. I walk in and look around, it's kind of scruffy. But this is coming from a kid whose rich father pays his rent, I bet Brendon's at least independent.
"I know it's not much, but y'know it's home." He says, as I follow him up the staircase. I nod and make noises of affirmation, just so he knows I'm listening. By the time we get to the third floor, my knees are aching and my shoulder is killing me from the weight of my bag. I never realized how unhealthy I was, I mean sure I'm pretty thin, stick thin even, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm healthy.
Brendon stops outside a door and smiles; he looks fine, like he's just had a long rest. He then turns to the door and unlocks it, ushering me in and taking my bag from me, which I'm very grateful for, I doubt I would have been able to lift the thing.
"So, I know this isn't much of a date, but you showed me one of your passions- reading- so I wanted to show you one of mine." He says, as he carelessly tosses his jacket in the general direction of the couch, I watch as it misses terribly and clunks to the floor.
"That would be my phone," he says bending down slightly as if the realization was a pain in the ribs. I laugh, and instead of throwing, I drape my jacket on the back of the sofa. The lounge is quite large; there are two doors along the right wall, which I'm assuming are the bathroom and bedroom. Then there's a kitchen which basically sees over the lounge, and a wall opposite that, that's jutting out.
"So what do you want to show me?" I ask turning to face Brendon, his eyes lift upwards and he smiles.
"Follow me," he gestures, so I do. We walk up to the wall that's jutting out and behind it is a piano.
"You play?" I ask, he nods and then sits down on the long stall, patting the space next to him, gingerly I sit down on his right, my hands curl into fists by my neck, I really don't want to break anything.
"It's okay," he says pushing my hands down from their position, he then lets go of one of my hands, and uncurls the fingers of my right hand. "It won't break that easily," he says as he pushes my index finger on one of the keys. "That's a C just so you know," he grins and I move my hands and fold them in my lap, as he flexes his fingers over the keyboard.
"I'm not amazing, but I borderline on questionably insane." He smirks, as his fingers ghost over the keys, I wonder what they're made out of, and it's obviously not plastic. He then brings his fingers down on the keys, creating a soft melody, it sounds amazing.
He plays for a few minutes and then stops; he stays still for a second before turning slightly on the stool to face me, his knee tapping mine as he moves. "So?" He asks biting his bottom lip slightly, and then flinching as his tooth touches the healing cut on his lip.
"Amazing, and is that still sore?" I ask motioning to his lip, he nods.
"Not so much sore, as…tender," he replies, smiling. "You really think it was that good?" he asks, I drag my gaze away from his lips, and nod tentatively.
"It really is, you really are." I say surprising myself when the words leave my mouth, but he just smiles.
"This is my passion," he says standing up and outstretching his arms. "Music," I look around at the different instruments lined up against the wall, and god is he a talented boy.
He then sits back down, and lifts my hands from my lap. "You can play; it doesn't even have to sound good, just press a few keys, and see where it takes you." He smiles encouragingly as he lets go of my hands, leaving them hovering above the keys.
I flex my fingers slightly, and then press down on the keys, grimacing when it makes an awful sound, I look to Brendon and he just smiles. Smiling back, I sit up straighter and just press random keys listening to the pitch of them, working out in my head which ones would sound good next to each other. Pressing the keys tentatively I start to make up my own tune, it sounds okay, not great, just mediocre.
"What are the keys made of?" I ask as I stop playing, and just press one key- which Brendon told me was C- and I drag out the note as he thinks for a second, when it looks like he's going to talk, I stop pressing the key to be considerate.
"I think they're made of ivory," and I jump up off the stool, and step back.
"Ivory? You just had me touching some dead elephants tusk." I say as I step back, Brendon frowns and stands up as well.
"It's an old piano, they used to use ivory for 'em, besides sounds better than those new plastic keyed ones." He says as he turns to walk the short distance to the kitchen. "Want a drink?" He asks as he lets the tap run, and goes to a cupboard to get something out.
"Brendon, we're talking about the fact you have part of a dead elephant in your house, and you're talking about drinks!" I practically yell, he just shrugs and leans his hands on the counter.
"It was my grandfathers piano, so I'm hardly gonna get rid of it am I? He gave it to me, me, I didn't even want it, and he gave it to me." And I feel fucking guilty, he's looking down, like he's upset, and he said was, does that mean his grandfathers dead?
"I'm sorry Brendon; I just think that stuffs cruel." I say sincerely, softly.
"So do I, but it's an amazing piano." He mumbles, and then his head shoots up and he's smiling. "You play pretty well, have you played before?" And he's changed like that, in an instant I'm shocked slightly at the change and stutter before I force out an intelligible answer.
"I play guitar, I know how to use my hands." That is not the best way to put it, I blush as the once innocent sentence washes over me, and I digest what I've just said. Brendon smirks and walks over to me, handing me a glass of water.
"I'd like to see that," he says, sipping his drink, I clutch the drink for dear life because what does he mean? Does he want to see me play guitar, or use my hands?
"Err, whuh?" I stutter out, and suddenly the room has got a whole lot hotter, or is that just me?
He laughs, and I laugh nervously along with him, then he stops abruptly. "I don't mind, you can either show me your guitar playing skills or we could take this to the bedroom." He smirks, and his smirk is amazing, but I'm not ready for that so I tell him, in a way I'm sure he won't feel offended.
"Losing points on those cards Bren," he goes to talk and then looks at me, smirks, then talks.
"I was joking, Ry," I shake my head laughing slightly, I then place my glass down on the kitchen counter, that's opposite the piano.
"Hand me a guitar," I say as I sit on a stall next to the piano, Brendon nods and grabs an acoustic off a stand not far from me, and then he extends it to me. I nod my thanks and play the first thing that comes in to my head, that just so happens to be a song I've been writing. And the whole date is spent teaching each other techniques, voicing our opinions on songs we've written, Brendon listens to the song I've written, and there's something missing, and he gives me the missing part and the song just sounds complete.
It gets to eleven o'clock and I bid him goodnight, declining his offers of the couch for a bed. I walk home in the darkening night, happy, because he definitely played his cards right tonight.