*crawls out from under rock with new chapter*
I feel so bad guys. Has it really been almost 4 months since I last updated this? I'm so sorry orz
But here's the next chapter. And tbh it's up now as opposed to later because I just finished watching Your Lie in April and it really kicked my butt into gear to write this. If you haven't seen it, you should. Very emotional with a very bitter-sweet ending, but the music in it is absolutely phenomenal. It totally inspired this chapter. Anyways enjoy. And hopefully it won't be so long before I get the next chapter up.
Chapter 7: A Change of Heart
The weekend serves as a great reset for anxious mind. I don't leave my hotel the entire weekend, opting instead to practice in my room. There's a chance that I could run into Eren at the concert hall and I'm not willing to take that risk. I need the weekend to myself, away from him and away from the confusion that comes with being anywhere near him. I need to take a step back, breathe, gather my wits back about me, to clear my head. But when have I ever had any control over my wits? Or anything else for that matter?
The music helps, as it always does, but for some reason I feel like it isn't helping as much as it usually does. Usually I can get totally lost in the music. My entire mind will go blank, and only the music fills it. All my problems flow from my mind, carried away by the notes as leaves get blown away by the wind. But I guess these problems haven't fallen from the tree yet. They hold fast and don't quite leave as the hum of my violin fills the hotel room. This is more serious than I thought. And I knew it was serious. From the very beginning I knew this would be serious. Very serious. But what should I do about it? Everything I've tried so far hasn't worked. As much as I would like to believe that ignoring the brat and pushing him away could work, I'm not stupid enough to think that it has made any difference thus far. So maybe I should try something different. But what?
The music cuts off with a rather unpleasant screech of strings as I let my bow drop from my violin. The instrument follows, hanging loosely in my grasp by my leg. I stare out the window into the still night as my thoughts take a very drastic, completely one-eighty turn. Everything I've done up until this point hasn't even come close to being effective. I know that. I'm not stupid. But why am I trying this hard? Would it really be that terrible if I were to let one person in? I don't even have to let him all the way in. What if I just let him in part of the way? I can allow myself this one bit of human companionship, can't I? I'm only around for two more weeks. I'll let myself indulge just this little bit, but not enough to become completely attached, then I'll leave and this whole mess will be behind me.
Could it really be that simple? This feeling in my chest is so strange to me, so new. I don't know what it'll do to me if I give it some leeway. Will it take off like a dog let off its leash? Or will it cling to me like a child afraid of the dark? What will happen if I allow this small amount of self-indulgence? I'm half afraid that it'll go horribly wrong and destroy me all over again. But the other half of me is near bursting with anticipation, eagerness... excitement. The emotions... these feelings... they're so strange. I don't remember the last time I felt any of them. I've buried them for so long. But maybe it's time they be let out. After all, what am I afraid of? That they'll hurt me? I've been hurt so much in this life already, I don't think a little more will do much now.
With a smile threatening to pull at the corner of my lips, I raise my violin back up to my chin and poise the bow above the strings. I stare into the darkness of the night and after a deep breath, close my eyes and picture bight greenish-blue. I let the pounding of my heart, the rush of adrenaline, and the color of the ocean drive my arm forward, the bow sliding across the strings to fill the hotel room with music. I drop my wrist back down, my fingers flicking across the strings. Chord after chord, note after note, I let the music grow and form and overwhelm my ears, my entire being. I can feel it vibrating up my fingers, through my wrist and down my arm.
I practice well into the night before finally calling it quits. Actually feeling tired for once in my life, I tuck away my instrument and climb into bed. Surprisingly enough, it only takes minutes for me to fall asleep. But I should've known that one small release of my vice grip on my emotions wasn't going to suddenly solve my insomnia. Or result in the end of my nightmares.
I start awake, a cry on my lips, as I watch for the thousandth time the fiery wreck that tore everyone I ever cared about away from me. I can't breathe for a long minute as I sit there in bed, staring wide-eyed at the wall, my body coated in a cold sweat. Once I'm finally able to suck oxygen back into my struggling lungs, I slump over, burying my face in my hands. I take a series of deep breathes, trying to calm my racing heart, then dare to glance over at the clock. It's just before six in the morning. About three hours of sleep. Perfect.
Climbing out of bed, I hurry to take a shower in order to wash away all the sweat and anxiety. With that taken care of, I grab my instrument and backpack and leave for the concert hall. It's Monday today. The weekend is over. No avoiding that brat anymore. It's time to see if letting these emotions out of the cage was as big of a mistake as I fear it will be.
The concert hall is empty when I arrive, as it usually is. I have to say, that is one thing I like about working with a bunch of kids. It gives me the entire hall to myself in the mornings while everyone else is at school. Actually, strike that. As I walk down the hall, I can hear the faint tune of a piano echoing down the halls. Someone is obviously already here. On impulse, I continue down the hall and passed my usual practice room. I quickly discover that the music is coming from the concert hall. Continuing down the curving hallway, I stop at the backstage door, then slowly and quietly push it open so as to not disturb the pianist.
I recognize the song. It's Kreisler's Liebesleid. It's originally written to be a violin and piano duet. But the pianist, incredibly, is playing both parts. I don't even hesitate before setting my violin down on the chair next to the door and pulling out my instrument. I know this piece by heart. The pianist must not have heard me come in, because the music flows uninterrupted as I ready my instrument. I start to walk out onto the stage as I lift my violin to my shoulder. As soon as he comes to the next measure, I jump in, the sound of my violin mixing with the music of his piano as I continue onto the stage.
It's Mike, I soon see, sitting at the piano. I had forgotten that the pianist wasn't a college student, and was closer to mine and Erwin's age. He falters slightly at the sound of my violin and looks up. But it only takes him a single beat to catch his rhythm again and to continue the piece, this time without playing the violin part.
I close my eyes as the music fills the empty hall. I focus on the instrument beneath my fingers, the smoothness of the wooden bow, the taunt vibrations of the strings. I can hear that Mike is playing with more gusto as well, now that he has a partner. I pour everything I have into the song, my brow furrowing as I let the sorrow of Love's Sorrow overwhelm me. The feeling and emotion of the piece envelops me, and I move to the music, playing as if every seat in the empty concert hall was filled. It's the only way to play a violin really. Especially when the piece is full of so much emotion. It needs to be felt by everyone, not just by the person playing the piece.
Half way through the piece though, I realize I'm not playing for my imaginary audience. No, what I'm seeing on the backs of my eyelids is green. I see a smile, a bright smile up against tan skin. I see long fingers playing over worn strings on a dinged but loved violin. I see a greenish-blue so full of life and spirit that it has the power to put me on my knees. I'm not playing for an empty hall. I'm playing for Eren.
When the song draws to an end, the last few notes of the violin and piano fading into nothing, only then do I open my eyes. I almost feel melancholy over the fact that the piece is over. I could play the piece forever, seeing Eren in my mind, and it wouldn't be long enough. Lowering my bow, I glance over to my impromptu partner.
"I apologize for barging in on your practicing," I tell him. "Liebesleid is one of my favorites."
The quiet pianist smiles. "It was no problem. I prefer to play that piece with a violinist anyway. Usually it's Eren that accompanies me, though."
At the name my eyes widen a little. "Eren does?"
"Yeah, he really likes that song. I guess his mother used to play it all the time when he was little," Mike says with a shrug. Then, after a moment of heavy silence he asks, "Do you know Beethoven's Kreutzer?"
I nod my head slightly. "Any violinist worth his salt knows the Kreutzer. I don't think I can recall more than just the first movement from memory though."
"Perfect," Mike smiles. "The first movement is my favorite anyway."
Again, I nod, and lift the violin to my chin. It's been a while since I've played the Kreutzer. But despite it being known for being demanding on violinists, I don't doubt my ability to play the first movement from memory. And with Mike carrying the piano piece, that should help keep me on track. I watch him as he flips through his rather large book of sheet music, then settles the right piece in front of him. When he nods, I take a deep breath and strike up the opening notes of the piece.
I close my eyes again as the opening measures ring out through the hall. After the first couple measures, Mike joins in with the piano. The sounds of the piano mix with that of my violin and together they combine to make truly beautiful music. I've always been a fan of the sound a piano and a violin make together. I personally feel that they complement each other so beautifully.
I watch him move to the music we're creating, ducking his head and swaying his body as his fingers move across the keys. He's not the only one getting lost in the music. I move as well, following the lead of music, as if it were a dance. I let my eyes drift closed again and I concentrate on the music reverberating all around us. I feel it with every fiber of my being. I let the music consume me, as I always do. I let it take over, moving my fingers and wrist and body as it demands.
All too soon the piece draws to an end, and I furrow my brow in concentration at the last few measures. Our last few notes ring out hard and loud, then cut off sharply. I take a deep breath, my eyes still closed with my bow poised in the air above my violin. I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead.
An excited applause has me snapping my eyes open and I look into the empty hall to see Eren standing behind the back row of seats, his eyes wide and a grin on his face. My heart jumps up into my throat at just the sight of him. My first instinct is to hurry off stage, but I remind myself of my decision made last night, and keep my feet rooted where they are as Eren jogs up to the stage and leans his arms on the smooth wood, staring up at us in awe.
"That was incredible!" he says. "That was Beethoven's, uh... his violin sonata right? His Kreutzer?"
I just nod, not really sure what else to say. My feet stay planted, despite wanting to walk up to the edge of the stage and crouch in front of him.
"That piece is supposed to be really challenging. You can play it from memory?" His voice is still full of awe and that does funny things to my chest and fingertips.
"Only the first movement," I tell him, then before he can continue to gush about my playing and make me even more uncomfortable about the praise, I change the topic. "Why aren't you at school?"
"I don't have class until ten on Mondays. And tomorrow I have a Symphonic Band recital so I decided to come here before class and practice. I have a solo," he tells me with a smug grin, obviously proud of himself.
"Do you need any help with it?" I find myself asking. I hadn't been able to stop it. It just came out. But there's no taking it back now, especially seeing as Eren obviously heard it, judging by the way his eyes widen in surprise.
"Uhm, actually, there is this one part... Most of the time I play it, I'm fine, but sometimes my fingers trip over the notes and I'm afraid it'll happen tomorrow during the recital. And wouldn't that be embarrassing. I think Dr. Shadis would drag me out back and skin me alive," he laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want to bother you though. I know that this is your time to do your own practicing before rehearsal."
"It's fine," I reassure him. "I don't mind."
His smile is blinding. "Okay! Thank you," he says, turning and running down the aisle to the back door. "I have to go get my instrument! I'll be in the usual practice room in fifteen!" Then he's gone, the door swinging shut behind him.
I stand there in surprise for a moment, then turn to leave the stage. I catch Mike smiling as he flips through some more scores in his big book. Deciding not to ask what that's all about, and trying not to wonder too much about it, I grab my case and backpack from where I left them when I had joined Mike and leave the hall. I reach the practice room and set up all my things before deciding to go to the restroom in order to prepare, just in case Eren comes back before he said he would.
I enter the bathroom and pick the stall at the end. Thankfully it's too early for anyone else to be at the hall, and the bathroom is empty. I close the toilet lid and sit down, pulling out my small box, towel, and rubber bands. But when I roll up my sleeve, I hesitate, looking down at the numerous wounds lining my arm. With a start, I realize that the most recent one is starting to heal. I frantically go back over the events of this morning and last night in my head.
I didn't have to cut this morning before being able to play two very complicated, and very emotional pieces with Mike. And last night, I didn't have to aggravate the wound before picking back up after dinner. When I desperately try to think of the reason for that, I come to the startling realization that, perhaps it has something to do with my decision to let Eren in. Last night, I had pictured his bright eyes while I played. And this morning, I imagined I was playing for him. That can't possibly be the reason, but what other reason is there? Somehow, that kid has managed to make a bigger impact on my life than I ever even dreamed could be possible.
