Sorry if I get any of the technical parts wrong, as I know absolutely nothing about music. I apologise in advance if my mistakes in any way impede your ability to enjoy my story. Feel free to point them out, and I will correct them if I can. Merci beaucoup, mon amis!
3: Let the Music Do the Talking (Aerosmith)
Ryan felt as if was flying. In actuality, he was dancing; the music a soft melody that continuously swung with deep notes and flew with high harmonies. He hummed slowly to himself, his body free of any stress as he flung it carelessly around the practice stage, his eyes closing unconsciously.
"Fly with me, to a world, where no one's ever been before, and you know," he sung slowly, drawing out the words longer than the music held them for, "It will just be you and me there." He jumped lazily, spinning himself in a low circle as he landed, almost haphazardly tossing about his limbs in an unpractised warm-up.
His breathing stayed even as he bent his body in nearly impossible ways, ending with a flourish and a bow at his imaginary audience. Except, as he opened his eyes he realised, his audience wasn't imaginary. He had opened his eyes only to see a very real Lillian with one hand on her hip, smiling at him. She climbed the four steps onto the stage when he smiled at her.
"I thought you were going to wait for me?" she demanded jokingly, tossing her bag onto the piano bench and crossing her arms. She may have been a wonderful dancer, but actress she was not. Her stern look was punctuated with bouts of irrepressible smiling, her look of anger so flimsy it was falling apart without a nudge.
"I did wait, for nearly half an hour, in fact. Where have you been?" His acting was much better, and Lillian's brow creased in concern at his serious tone. But the laugh that followed his well-delivered lines made her frown disappear, and she gave him a quick hug before rushing to the boom box set atop the piano lid.
"I got caught by my Musical Theatre course professor using his office to practice my lines in. He was quite mad, I'm telling you." She fiddled with the buttons until she found the right track, pressing play and holding out her hand to Ryan. "Care to dance?" she asked, and he bowed gracefully before taking her hand and swinging her into a beautifully choreographed waltz.
The elegant promenade had been choreographed by Ryan himself for a dance competition long ago he had entered with Sharpay, and he had taught it to Lillian for the sake of practice and, of course, because she asked him to teach her to waltz. Her ballet was extraordinary, but her partner-dancing left more than a little to be desired.
"Three beats, not four," he reminded her gently, using a hand on her hip to guide her through the steps. "One, two, three; one, two, three..." She giggled, stepping on his toes purposefully just to try and get him off-beat. He twirled her into an unexpected dip as pay-back, causing her to squeal for fear of being dropped.
"Trust me," he whispered, and then dipped her again, more slowly. She relaxed, and he brought her back up. "See, was that so hard?"
Kurt pressed his year to another practice room door, listening hard. He heard a soft giggle and a long groan, and quickly stepped away from it. That one was definitely occupied as well. For a school with so many rooms made for practicing, it was hard to find a room to practice in. He clutched his music to his chest and leaned toward the next door, his ears listening for the sound of music. He heard none.
With a sigh of satisfaction and a grin, he opened the door only to find the room not as empty as he had hoped. He sighed again, this time with anger. Why was it so hard to find an unoccupied room?
He was about to turn around and leave quietly when he got a look of the male occupant's face; it was the young man he had bumped into in the stairwell. He had to refrain from sighing a third time as he regarded the way he was holding the female occupant; she was obviously his girlfriend. He had been right. Ryan was straight.
Their waltz ended, the music coming to a close. The melody emanating from the boom box had been so faint he could hardly hear it, but its final note was a high-pitched violin note he recognised as a high-F. This was when the female occupant noticed him, her brow creasing.
"I'm sorry, can we help you?" she asked; her voice was seemingly loud in the small room.
"Oh, no, sorry; I was just looking for a free room. My apologies," Kurt said quickly, gathering his wits and turning to leave.
"Wait, do I know you?" Ryan asked, looking over the well-dressed young man and searching his memory for the moment in time when he had last seen him. "Are you in one of my classes?"
"We met in the seminar building, on the stairs," Kurt corrected, blushing a little and wishing he hadn't.
Ryan nodded. "Ah, yes. I remember now," he murmured as he turned to his companion, "Lillian, this is Kurt. Hummel, was it?" He didn't wait for Kurt to answer before continuing. "Kurt, this is Lillian Harper. She's come here from England to study dance."
Kurt meekly climbed onto the stage, shifting slightly so that his sheet music was under one arm. He took her hand and shook it lightly, as it was so small he feared breaking it. "Pleased to meet you," he said cordially, giving her a small smile.
She grumbled an unconvincing, "Likewise," before pulling her hand away and turning her attention back to Ryan. "Are we going to do it again? Or are we finished?"
Kurt, who felt as though Ryan and invited him into the conversation, asked, "What are you working on?" He directed the question to Ryan, not Lillian, for he had reason to believe (from her demeanour) that she already did not like him. Ryan grinned.
"It's a just a slow waltz, actually, to get Lilly used to a partner. What is that you've got there?" He gestured to the music Kurt had tucked under his arm. It was Kurt's turn to grin. He loved talking about his music.
"It's a piece I'm writing for a friend of mine," he explained pulling the half-finished sheet music from under his arm and offering it to Ryan. "Care to read it over for me?" He was pushing it, he knew; Ryan was probably expecting him to leave as soon as he had introduced him to his girlfriend.
"I'd love to," Ryan agreed, taking the music from Kurt and scanning the front page. Kurt was shocked, and so was Lillian. It seemed that she did not like being ignored very much. She gave a large huff of annoyance that reminded Kurt vaguely of one of Rachel Berry's tantrums.
"But Ryan, I thought we were going to practice the—" She was cut off by Ryan shushing her, putting a finger to his lips for a moment before flipping to the next page. Kurt had to refrain from smirking at her; apparently music mattered more to Ryan than Lillian did, and she had just realised it.
Ryan, lost in thought, walked slowly over to the piano, swaying in time with imaginary music. He sat down on the bench and set the sheet music in front of him, humming and placing long fingers on the keyboard, slowly moving them to correspond to the notes scribbled almost illegibly on the page. Kurt had never heard anyone but himself sing his half-finished masterpiece, but it sounded better, in Kurt's opinion, being sung by Ryan's slightly deeper voice.
"Because it's only you, and no one else, who makes me—" He paused, moving his fingers down a ways on the keyboard and pressing a different sequence of keys. "Who makes me feel like this—" He paused again, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. This was the place that Kurt had been stuck on, because no matter how he worked it, the flow of the music would be disrupted.
"It's wonderful, until you get to the bridge here," Ryan pointed out, biting his lip again and running his index finger along the awkward notes. "Something seems... off about it." Kurt nodded, hovering over Ryan's shoulder.
"I know. That's what I came here to work on!"
As the boys prattled on about the music, Lillian was slowly running out of patience. She glared jealously at Kurt, who had now slid onto the piano bench next to Ryan, her Ryan. While not official, she had decided that she had some claim to the boy, and this queer was not going to try and steal him away from her. Ryan was hers; or, at the very least, going to be hers.
"Ryan, weren't you going to show me—" She was once again shushed, this time by both boys. Neither even bothered to turn and look at her as they did so. She let out an exasperated sigh, tapping her high-heeled toe on the ground impatiently and crossing her arms.
"Honestly, Ryan, could we just—" They didn't even hear her. Arms were failing and ideas spilling forth like water from a broken dam, and she was just lost in the commotion. Eventually, she gave up, mumbling an angry goodbye before turning on her heel and walking out the door.
It was some time later, after both boys decided that it might be best just to get rid of the section all together and just go to the chorus, that they noticed Lillian's absence.
"Did she say anything to you about leaving?" Ryan asked quizzically as he stood up from the bench and looked around the empty stage, perplexed. "We were supposed to finish our workout together."
"If she said anything, I didn't hear it," Kurt concluded, gathering up his papers.
"Well, that was rude of her," Ryan said, clicking his tongue. Kurt agreed and thanked Ryan for his help, to which he answered, "No problem, friend." Before gathering up his own things from a chair and pulling on a jacket. "I have class, but maybe we could work together again sometime?"
"I would love to!" Kurt hastily replied, hating himself for seeming so eager, but not being able to help it. Whether or not he wanted to, he felt himself developing a small crush on the dancer.
Ryan seemed not to notice his exuberance, or perhaps he just over-looked it as they exited the practice room together. Either way, Kurt knew he was screwed. Falling for yet another guy who's taken, he chided himself, what are you thinking?
They parted ways at the end of the corridor, promising to meet again sometime in the future. Kurt walked sluggishly back to his dorm room, whilst Ryan scurried off in the direction of he and Lillian's favourite on-campus coffee shop, hoping to find her there. He did not find her, however, but did buy himself a newspaper and tried to enjoy the rest of the evening doing the crossword. Neither could keep their mind off the other, and each were wondering the same thing; could he maybe, quite possibly, be interested? Events had been set in motion, and neither knew how things would end.