[A/N]: This idea came, but I wasn't so sure about it. I guess you guys can judge if you like it or not.
Inspired by: Even If It Breaks Your Heart by The Eli Young band
Pairing: None
A little five-year-old James sat on the porch in front of his house, silently crying. His parents had forgotten all about him being gone to kindergarten, and had locked the door on their way out to work. They didn't get home for another hour. He wiped his tears away, since his father had told him, Never let anyone see you cry. Crying is a sign of weakness. The little lamia merely sat on the porch and awaited his parents' arrival.
Midway through first grade, he found an old radio buried deep in the attic when he was looking for some of his toys. He turned it on, and music flowed through it. He smiled. And little did he know that he'd just found his salvation.
At seven years old, James stayed in his room all the time he wasn't at school, listening to his old radio. He had discovered how to change the station, but he never did. He had grown accustomed to that certain style of music. He had heard many songs about families, and wondered why his family wasn't like the human families in the songs. Human parents didn't leave their young children home alone. Human parents didn't take long trips on no notice. He wanted to ask why, but he didn't dare.
James was curled up in his bed at ten years old, listening to his radio. The artists sang about dreaming and hoping. He had told his parents of some of his dreams and hopes, but they merely scoffed at him. Be realistic, James, they said. You are a Rasmussen. You will get the finest education, then you will get a seat on the Council. That's how it is. Be glad for what you have. Don't foolishly dream of other things. He tried, but was enchanted by the infinite possibilities.
A thirteen-year-old James became fascinated with the guitars in the music. Whether acoustic or electric, steel or twelve-string, resonator or bass or double-neck, they all had a sort of freedom to them. When they were played, the emotion you felt was poured into the music. So he snuck up into the attic and found an acoustic left behind by the old human owner. He taught himself how to strum along to the melodies and even sometimes learned the correct notes. His parents would be furious if they found out, but they were gone so often that James wasn't worried. He'd play along to his precious old radio, his savior from the loneliness of an empty house and absent parents.
[A/N]: Please tell me what you think of it. It's a bit heavier than my other stories. I'd like some feedback.