...She grew to love the way that he would smile, one side of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. He would never admit, but he loved the way she tasted when they kissed slowly, when she flushed when he teased her. Their meeting place was the hollowed out shell of an oak tree, centuries old that the boy had enchanted to hide them. It was their sanctuary, their heaven. They strung photographs of them with string and lit a small lantern inside.
But it was not meant to be. Her mother found out one day, when she had been foolish and had forgotten the time and had come back late with stains on her gown and bright flush upon rosy cheeks. Her mother had yanked her inside the room, shut the door, and screamed at her, slapping her once in the face and then kicking her with hard shoes on her stomach, and then, after calling her a failure, a freak, a disappointment, set the house on fire.
The girl perished in the flames, her eyes closing, and before just as they did, she heard a laugh, a familiar smile, the comfort of his arms around her body. Then, her eyes shut, and she knew no more.
The boy killed himself shortly, after, unable to cope with his life afterwards, the last words he whispered were to her, wherever she was, a prayer, a wish, in a way, that he could see her once more.
The pictures in their tree eventually fell and decomposed, the lantern broke and then its parts were scattered by nature, and it would be centuries before a girl with scarlet hair and a boy with silver found their heaven, and told their story once more.
"Oh, lovely room."
Scarlet ran her fingers lightly over ivory piano keys, relishing in the age of it. Pressing down lightly on one key, she grinned at the sound it produced. She remembered first discovering the room two months ago, on the first day of school. When she had come back to the mansion, she had dropped her bag in her room, nodded an absent-minded nod to Reiji in regards to dinner time, and set off to explore.
She had not expected to stumble across a majestic music room.
Violins, violas, cellos, basses lined up against the wall, music stands and bows accompanying them. Scarlet saw an array of varying instruments, including a flute and trombone. There was a microphone stand in the back, along with speakers and an electrical guitar that was covered in blood red paint with the words DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF-AYATO, printed in large letters in black. Scarlet smiled at the sight.
Her gaze had fallen to the instrument that she knew how to play best. A grand piano in the center of the room, glossy and black, with elegant gold bordering and keys made of ivory. Ivory keys. She hadn't played a piano with ivory keys since-
She stiffened at the thought, rejecting it and pushing it to the back of her head. Scarlet wouldn't ever forget the last time she put her fingers on ivory, but she would not remember it today. Wouldn't allow it. She reached inside her mind and found a piece that brought memories of ignorant smiles and blissful afternoons.
A melody burst from her fingertips, slightly overwhelming with raw emotion, but Scarlet was too familiar with losing herself to music. The piece had originally been a nursery rhyme, played by a girl from her village to lull the children to sleep, but gradually, overtime, Scarlet had begun to add on, pouring her thoughts and emotion into the piece, adding on as they years passed. Eventually, the nursery rhyme had been replaced with Scarlet's life.
God, this was what she had lived for. She could remember a meadow with blooming daisies and picnics that always ended in the children getting soaked in the stream in the woods next to the meadow. She remembered the exasperated looks adults exchanged when they came back dripping wet and laughing hysterically.
Pausing, she let the piece come to an abrupt stop. Reaching for the sheet music on a violin stand, she turned around on the bench, reading. She knew how to play the violin, but she rarely ever did. The piano had always been her instrument, and the violin Silver's. She bit her lip, thinking about Silver. She wished he was there, bright eyes just like her own, short, silver hair that gleamed in the sun, boyish smile on his face. She remembered innocent nights, sitting on a tree trunk, her small arms around his neck as he pointed out constellations for her and told the stories he had learned at school.
She remembered how eager she had been for school to start.
She remembered watching it burn down.
She inhaled sharply at the memory, placing the music sheet back on its stand and standing up to scan the walls for a violin her size. She found one, and snatched a bow as well, tightening the strings as she read the first few lines of the music again. The violin was in tune, which led Scarlet to wonder if this room was often occupied by someone.
Hesitantly, she brought the bow up to play, recalling years of instruction. Her fingers started out slow, the bow pulling across the violin a bit too unsteady, so that the sound that it makes screams uncertainty. She fished for something in her mind, bringing forward a good memory.
"No." The teacher slapped at Scarlet's arm with a wooden stick and Scarlet winced and brought the bow down. "How many times have I told you, child? Stronger. More certain. The world doesn't know you are a coward until you play."
"I-"
"Are a fool to think that playing an instrument is easy. You are gifted in the piano, I hear, but you are too timid to play this piece. Your brother could play it by his tenth lesson."
The old lady knew, of course, that Scarlet, in contrast to her older brother, was competitive to the core. Silver was a kind person at heart. He was mellow where Scarlet was sharp and jagged, he was a stone found in the bottom of a shallow creek to her shining diamond. The woman knew, and she used it to her advantage. She laid a bait and Scarlet took it, fiercely and unaware of the intention behind the provoking.
"But Silver can't play the piano like me!" She didn't see the small gleam of satisfaction in the teacher's old eyes. The pride. "He might be better at this- the violin- than me, but I'm better at piano. You can't compare me to him! He started older than me, too!"
"Child." The woman's eyes were passionate, her voice composed. "Do you feel it? The rage, the sensation of wanting to let it out?" Scarlet nodded, and something in her mind was close to clicking. "Play it again. With that feeling. This piece is for you to rage. It is for you to be angry, so that when you are done, you are calm once more."
She did, small fingers pressing down on string as the bow comes down, sound louder and it clicked; the sensation of music. Scarlet could feel it then, the emotion that music carried, and she saw how Silver could truly smile when he played. She missed the gentle smile the old lady wears, the quiet whisper.
"You will become glorious one day," She said to the unknowing child. "You could rule an empire if you wished."
Scarlet opened the door to her room gently, quietly. Her fingers were numb, having gone soft years before from lack of use. She knew there was time when she could poke a needle into her index fingertip's pad and not feel it from the buildup of dead skin, but it had long passed. They were too used to stroking piano keys, too used to the lush life of comfort, velvet seats and silk sheets, compared to wooden chairs with uneven legs and scratchy cotton.
Stepping inside her room, she looked blankly at her empty bed and the textbooks she had open on her desk. Crossing over, she shut them, stacking them into a neat pile on her desk and pushing in the chair. Then, she shrugged off her clothes, draped a bathrobe across her body, and walked into her bathroom, half expecting the eldest son in there. He was. MP3 player plugged in, clothes on, eyes closed in her bathtub. Scarlet regarded him for a second before deciding that she didn't care anymore.
"I had really wanted to take a bath, you know." She informed him, slightly irritated. He opened one eye, and regarded her state.
"Then join me."
Suddenly more tired than she had been in a long time, Scarlet let the robe drop, pooling at her feet and slipped into warm water. Shu opened his eyes to watch her, eyes amused. She sat across the bathtub, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on them, eyes closed and scarlet hair fanning out around her.
"Was it you playing?" He made no effort to clarify, but Scarlet did not need it. Tilting her head back so that it rested on the bathtub edge, she shut her eyes.
"Yeah."
"I'm thirsty," He said after a few minutes of gentle classical music running through his ears, and she raised her eyebrows.
"Then take it." She shrugged, "A deal is a deal. I'll uphold my end if you uphold yours." He reached out, sitting up in the bathtub, pulling her against him. One arm secured around her waist, to prevent her from moving, the other tilted her head to that her neck was left exposed. He brushed his fangs against pale skin and was rewarded with goosebumps breaking out. Hooking his fangs against skin, he bit down, filling his mouth with her blood.
Scarlet hissed, tensing up as teeth entered skin, burning deep inside her neck. She let her head fall against his shoulder, eyes closing. Slowly, gradually, as he drank, she felt the pain ebb away, and start to lose feeling in her body. Gently, she pulled away, and he complied, allowing her to fall against his chest, trembling.
"You took too much," she said, faintly, "I can't feel my legs. Can't even move." She let out a laugh, slightly delirious from blood loss. "Fuck. I can't move at all."
"You don't need to move," He breathed, fangs piercing easily skin once more, "just be quiet." She would have argued but she lost herself to the inky blackness that was unconsciousness and drifted off into memories.
She wore red well. It was, perhaps, a sort of sick joke by whatever deity that looked over her, that she looked prettiest in a rich, scarlet color. After all, she was doomed to wear the color all her life.
When Scarlet woke up, it was to a gentle hum of a violin. Eyes opening groggily, she propped herself up on her elbows, letting the covers slid down to her stomach. Mystery number one. The last thing she remembered was the warmth of the water and blue eyes. Trying to remember, she found she could recall the sensation of being laid down, golden curls of hair framing a pale neck.
Shu, presumably. Mystery number two, she figured, would be where she was. She was in a bed that was not her own, in a room that was not hers either. From the way that the bed seemed to be the only thing that was used, she figured it was Shu's room. The plain sheets and distinctly masculine design only contributed to her conclusion
The last thing she wondered about would be the music. Squinting around, she found the sound to be from outside the door. She made for the door, only to stop when she realized that she still had no clothes on. Sighing, she opened the dresser, throwing on the first few things that came to view, rolling up the hem of the pants. Slipping out of the door, she realized with a start that it was coming from a music room.
It was Shu playing, eyes closed and earbuds tossed to the side. Scarlet slipped inside the room, shutting the door behind her gently. She sat down on the piano bench, making almost no noise and waited for him to finish.
"How long have I been out?" She asked, as he lowered the instrument. He cast a glance in her direction, sapphire eyes glinting.
"All day."
"What did you tell Reiji? Or am I left to deal with that myself?" Her eyes were shining with amusement, almost a golden color.
"I told him to not question it."
Scarlet smiled, rising from the leather bench, making her way to the violin. She snatched it out of his hands, dancing away.
"I want more answers than just as short as possible," She teased, sitting down on the sofa and cradling the violin in her arms. He sighed, but his eyes were trained on the violin. The smirk on Scarlet's lips told him that she knew she had her hands on something important. He sat down on the sofa too, wondering if he really should have stayed home with the girl that was smiling so brightly across from him.