The Madness Between The Notes
Chapter 9 : The Serenity of The Salt Water Sea
As time passed Roderich began to take note of the weather and how it had began to rain more often than it had when he arrived. The requiem was nearly complete, and would be finished within the week given that the composer worked diligently. Francis had visited once or twice to hear portions of the piece, and applauded in amazement. The approval pleased Roderich, but was nowhere near satisfying.
The evenings evolved into a new routine. It involved composing until dissatisfaction settled, and then taking a daily dosage of opium to rest. When Roderich began taking the opium, he used to it diligently and carefully, just as the doctor prescribed. However, as time passed, he found that it took more to achieve a euphoric state than previously. The dosage heightened, as the amount the virtuoso took depend on his mood. If he was relatively calm, only a little. If he was in a panic, Roderich would fumble for can and take as much as his shaking fingers would allow. He soon found there wasn't much left, the bottom of the can shinning silver when the candlelight shined upon it. Roderich sighed with discontent at the thought that he would have to visit the doctor once again.
One day when Roderich was at working on the requiem, he heard a quick and short knock at the door. He immediately opened the door to find that it was Arthur, smiling with his hair and clothing slightly wet from the rain.
"Hello Arthur! Please, come in and warm yourself by the fire." Roderich smiled and welcomed Arthur in his humble apartment.
"Thank you, lad! I thought I'd stop by since we haven't spoken in a while!" Arthur took a seat by the fireplace and warmed his hands.
"It has been a long while indeed! How are you, my friend?" Roderich sat near Arthur, crossing his satin-covered legs and folding his hands in a polite manner.
"Quite well. I should ask the same of you."
"Well! Just working on pieces as usual."
"Splendid! How are your compositions coming along?"
"Good, good. I am almost finished with the requiem. I should be able to deliver it to Francis by the end of next week." Roderich spoke, sighing slightly with relief. Just a little more time would pass before he was homeward bound. And it gave him great solace.
"Wonderful! I'm sure he'll think it's lovely." Arthur gave a reassuring smile and ruffled his dampened hair.
"He's very pleased with what he's heard so far. Would you like some tea?" Roderich asked, making his way across the apartment.
"Sure, that's sounds great. Thank you!" Arthur stood to follow Roderich. Upon standing, the top of the piano became visible to him. He saw an array of items including a glittering tin can. Curious, Arthur nonchalantly walked over to the piano to examine it in greater detail. He saw the lettering on the can, one that was in a fanciful font. Opium. Reading it made Arthur's heart drop far into his ribcage in a swift motion. He walked over to where Roderich was preparing tea with a completely new demeanor.
"Roderich…." Arthur stopped at saying the Austrian's name, a tight knot forming in the back of his throat. "Just how well are you?"
Roderich stopped his motions immediately in complete shock. He wondered what would trigger Arthur to ask such a thing, and if he given any clues to such an inquiry. His heart began to beat fast and his hands became clammy. The composer was at a loss on how to respond and his expression sent that message. After several seconds of pin-drop silence, he responded in a nervous tone. "What on Earth would make you ask such a thing, my friend?"
"You have opium. That's used for so many things, I can't possibly know what you're using it for. Please, I'm not trying to pry in your business, but can you tell me what's wrong? I know we haven't known each other long, put your trust in me. I am coming from a genuine place, one full of concern."
"I believe that I told you I had insomnia once before. The doctor you recommended gave me the opium to cure it. " Roderich's throat became dry at speaking the word opium. Just saying the word out loud caused a feeling to jostle within him that longed for it. The feeling was desperate and nagging, but not to the point of needy.
"I see. So is your insomnia any better?"
"Much, actually. I have to thank you for the doctor recommendation. He was quite pleasant."
"You're most certainly welcome." Arthur paused for a moment before continuing. "Roderich, how does opium make you feel?"
This question made the composer swallow hard. It caused a slight pain in his throat almost as though he was choking on the crisp air. He knew exactly how it felt. He also knew exactly how much he'd come to rely on it. If it had come to be a good or bad thing, he couldn't decide.
"I...I don't.." Roderich caught on his words, he tried to find to the right explantation as he searched the depths of his mind. "I don't know if I can explain it well… but… At times I find that my mind is a roaring sea. It's full of my thoughts, my sorrows and pains. It's full of music notes dancing around like fish in the ocean. And it makes me deathly afraid. The power of this sea, it's origin in the mind, causes seawater to spread all throughout my body, rushing through my veins. It keeps me awake at night, the waves crashing and thrashing fiercely. And do you know where my mind is? My sane, rational, content, mind? Way out in the water, I can see it swimming and fighting the current, choking on salt water. I can't retrieve it. I soon lose sight of it and don't know where it is. My head is collapsing. I panic and my body is out of my control. I then reach for the opium. I ingest it and let it flow through my veins, just as the treacherous sea water does. Do you know what that opium does? It calms my mind's treacherous sea and soothes the pain that accompanied it. And soon enough, I find serenity in that salt water sea. I am at peace, there no raging tidal waves and the waters no longer frighten me. Those dancing little fish are gone, and my music flows to me within the wind as a soft and cooling breeze. It stays that way until the opium wears off, and of course, the treachery heightens and begins again. "
Arthur sat in shock for a moment at the explanation. He believed it to a very vast explanation, and never in his life had he heard someone describe their mental state in such a metaphor. He couldn't speak for many moments. There was silence in the room.
"And your mind? What happens to it?" Arthur finally questioned nervously.
"My mind? The sane, rational, content, one? During times of peace, I would float through the calming waters and ask myself, Where is my mind? I don't see it anywhere. Way out in the water, it's not there. I wonder for many moments, and then come to a realization. It sunk far into the depths of the sea. It's nowhere to be found. You see, it sinks because even in a time of peace, I am not sane, I am not rational, and I am not content."
"Why not content?" Arthur asked, his tone serious yet curious.
"Why not? When I take the opium I can never be content, for I surpass that. My mind often experiences polar opposites, either it is in pain to an unbearable point, or it is peaceful and joyful beyond what I ever perceived possible. There is no room for content. That's why it sinks in the sea, there's no where for it to go." Roderich's voice cracked as tears surfaced within his eyes. He did not want to show Arthur these tears, for he believed they showed weakness in a man. However, he already considered himself a weak man for admitting what he just did. So, he let the tears fall, not that he could contain them. He could hardly breath, he was choking on the air that was flowing into him.
Arthur reacted quickly, and not without the sympathy he would never show. He embraced the composer in a comforting manner without hesitation. Roderich wept into the Englishman's shoulder and did not do so without feeling sickly with shame. He was ashamed of acting in such a way, but he could not control it. Arthur ran his hand up and down Roderich's back in an attempt to give him solace. The look in his eyes were of sadness and pity, not that it was noticed.
"I am so sorry Arthur Kirkland." Roderich heaved into Arthur's shoulder. He tears were still falling, but no longer in bursts of sobs.
"Why are you sorry? There is no reason for you to be sorry, the pain most certainly isn't. There is nothing to be ashamed of, I assure you." Arthur responded, his voice soft.
"I am weak, I am a burden."
"Nonsense, my friend. The pain has no shame. You try to leave on the shore and run for the sea, trying to sail away. But, soon enough you find that it has followed you, and it has started drowning you in your own waters. "
At this statement Roderich once again wept fiercely into Arthur's shoulder. And after a long while, formulated a response.
"And I go into the water to find my mind, and only to find myself lost. I feel that the pain creeps up just as my mind is sailing far, far away. I am there in the water, looking and looking. The pain catches up and it feels as though I am dead in the water. But I can still feel the water turn into a treacherous sea. And I can feel it's toxic salt water in my bones."
Roderich sniffled and quickly took a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing his eyes carefully. He looked at the tea he was preparing. It was warm, but almost to the point of being slightly cold. Picking up a teacup, he sipped at the tea slowly. Though cooled significantly, it was still extremely potent.
"Roderich, perhaps you should lay down and rest for a while." Arthur suggested, touching Roderich's shoulder gently.
"That would probably be best." Roderich coughed slightly and cleared his throat after. He walked to the bedroom in his apartment. He barely picked up his feet, creating a soft scraping sound on the floor. Arthur followed close behind.
Roderich entered the bedroom and looked upon his large bedding. The sheets were covered in elegant patterns and splattered with an array of soft and gentle winter-like colors. It was lovely, but he quickly decided not to climb under them, for the sun was shining brightly into the room. So he slowly climbed on top of his bed, laying on his side. He then patted the bedding to signal Arthur to come and sit with him. Arthur followed, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the other man carefully.
"Would you like to know a composer's secret, Arthur?" Roderich spoke with a quiet voice, one that was intertwined with a sigh. He had his eyes closed and his face seemed relaxed. It looked as though he had closed his eyes to ponder something.
"If you're willing to share with me." Arthur responded, staring somewhat loosely at the bedding his was sitting on.
"It would be entirely untrue of me to say I do the things I do for the people. They love it, I know that. So I let them pay me for it. It has never once occurred to anyone that my music is incredibly repetitive. They all sound like they are one in the same. Do you know why? It's because the way I feel never changes. I always feel the same, so in turn, my music stays the same. I am someone getting paid to wallow around in my own pain. Have you ever heard of such of thing? Isn't it preposterous?"
"I-I would say so."
"So here's the secret : This composer cares not for other people's desires and pleasure, but rather his own feelings. He does not aim to appease, but does so unintentionally. Is it a curse? A blessing? I don't know. And if this composer should ever tell you he didn't crave the fame and the applause, damn him as a lair."
The conversation faded off, which resulted in Roderich and Arthur being in silence for a long while. Arthur looked over to Roderich and assumed him to be asleep. So, he arose from his sitting position and walked towards the door, planning to leave Roderich to sleep in peace. When he reached the doorframe of the bedroom he heard a voice mumble from the opposite side of the room.
"I am plagued, my dear Arthur, plagued."
Arthur said nothing in response, but looked on for a moment with sympathy flooding his veins. He quietly left the apartment, shutting the door and trying to avoid it's squeak.
Roderich Edelstein was The Plagued Pianist, for he believed so intently. This reason alone triumphs over all other reasons, mentioned or otherwise unmentioned, because when one declares themselves something, is often incredibly difficult to get them to change their mind.
Author's Note : Hello, thanks for reading up to this point and I hope you have enjoyed it thus far! I try not to use my Author's Note to ramble, but I would like to comment on a few things.
I would just like to say that my story is both asexual and aromantic in it's nature. I don't know if I would go as far as to say my version of the characters are asexual and aromantic, but neither sex nor romance hold any place in the story. I would say that the this story's version of Roderich could very well be placed somewhere on the asexual and aromantic spectrums because he has dedicated his life completely to his passion for music and nothing else. I am sorry if you read this story hoping to find some romantic elements, but this story has none and never will.
I have gotten to the point in my writing that I'd much rather focus on elements that are not sexual or romantic. I feel this side of life is neglected at times, with society's notion that a lover will come to save you from your problems, or you'll find a lover to comfort you in your time of need, or rather they'll find you. They'll make your dreams come true, dreams you never even knew you had. You'll fall in love, get married, have kids, and all will be well. I don't believe that. I believe love can bring you great happiness, but I don't believe anyone is going to come and save me and make my life a wonderland. I don't believe my other half is out there somewhere, I am whole and I have my own intuition, and this is something I want to reflect in this story.
I'm sorry for the ramble, but I need to comment on this because of this chapter. The scene where Arthur comforts Roderich is not romantic, but rather showing human emotions and humanity between two characters. No one should be afraid of being weak for showing emotions and no one should hesitate to comfort someone when in need. Comfort does not always equal romance. Emotion does not always equal weakness.
Society believes that you cannot be asexual or aromantic (or sometimes both!) which is also a silly notion.
Thank you for reading!
-Yuripee
