Hafsa can hear it from the first floor.
Thanks to her sensitive hearing, she knows from the instant she walks into the main entrance of the Noah building that he's definitely there. On the third floor. Now that it's nearly six, and almost everyone is gone.
She approaches the stairwell, gazing up at the rolling steps in front of her, winding around the walls. She hears it echoing, bouncing down the stairs with every note, though it is only as loud as her breaths. Such a sad, lonely sound, though she can't quite make out the details.
She starts the climb up the steps as silently as her feline body allows her to be so that she can still listen. By the time she's halfway up the first flight, she can already pick up more of it. Ghostly.
She climbs up, up, up two more flights, and it grows more and more audible, louder and louder. It overpowers the sounds of her heart, her breaths, the faint rustle of leaves and animals yelling from the outside world, until she feels completely insulated by it. She reaches the end of the third flight.
It's down the hall. The long corridor stands frozen, its floors colored by glazed puddles of light reflecting the shine of the windows on either end. Caged by the sentinel lockers that hide the doors of the classroom, the hallway allows Hafsa passage down its mirage-like tiles, which grow dull and deaf as she steps over them. The noise is undeniable now. Beautiful. Concerning.
She stops in front of the door where it is the loudest, though she already knows he's there. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, and allows five more seconds to pass. It's mesmerizing. But she knows that it will end once she opens the door.
Still, she presses down on the door handle, and silently slips in the room. The lights are off, but that doesn't matter considering the curtains are drawn, allowing a warm blanket of light to tinge the room. It glistens off of the grand piano to the side of the room, warming the ebony- like surface. The room had been properly tidied up (probably a while ago); chairs stacked neatly atop the long rectangular tables that hug the walls, stacks of sheet music and lyrics in a neat pile. Yet he remains, back facing the entrance.
The music doesn't stop just yet. Perhaps he hadn't heard her enter, or perhaps he doesn't care. The delicate notes of the piano are now clear, no longer obscured by distance. Hearing them as they are in their entirety, after simply chasing their shadow, feels different to Hafsa. She almost considers leaving. But nonetheless, she slowly tiptoes closer to the source.
She watches his shoulders sway left and right, occasionally a finger darting into view as it creeps to the ends of the keyboard. She stops one pace behind him, settling on his right side and silently observes the rest of the performance. His eyes are closed in concentration, or worship, as he continues his playing.
He looks his most beautiful when he plays, Hafsa thinks. And it's true. Solomon's face is unstained by emotion as his hands work their magic atop the ebony and ivory as if they are simply an extension of him. She glances down, seeing the large, defined hands flex and glide around the faded keys. Carnivore's hands.
He plays and plays, until the sheet music reaches its last note. And then, suddenly, silence.
Solomon opens his eyes, as if waking up from a dream. He looks up at Hafsa with a blank expression.
"Hello."
"Hi."
At her voice, he smiles.
"I figured you'd be here." The serval says.
Solomon hums. He glides his hands across the keyboard as if showing it off.
Hafsa holds her wrist behind her back ."You play beautifully."
"So you've said."
"It's true."
"Thank you."
"I came to get you for dinner."
He glances at the clock above them. "It's still early."
"Yeah, but I figured you could use a break."
To this, Solomon pauses. He tilts his head and sighs. "Sorry to worry you."
"Don't apologize." Hafsa places a hand on his shoulder. "It's just… you've been here every afternoon for a few days now."
"I figured I could practice."
Hafsa lets out a hollow chuckle. "We never really talked about the Fun Run."
Solomon looks to his left, obscuring his face from view. His index finger presses down on a deep, rumbling C note.
"I'm upset too, you know." Hafsa continues. "Even if Brian and Humbert insist they're fine."
"I know you're upset."
"Right. And I know I can always talk to you about it."
"Of course."
"And you could always talk to me…?"
Solomon chuckles. He caresses a simple progression out of the keys. "Doing this helps me calm down."
"That's good, but… I don't know if that's the solution."
His hands don't stop, only playing half the notes. "Don't worry."
"I wanna know what you're thinking. About everything. About… anything." Hafsa reaches out to touch one of his hands. She stills it from its endeavors, and for a moment, it remains frozen under her touch.
He opens his mouth. He starts a sound, but seems to give up in a fraction of a second. They stay in silence, save for the internal whirring of the gears in the caracal's head.
He speaks up after an eternity. "Sit."
Wasting no time, he inches to the right, leaving enough room on the stool for Hafsa to squeeze into. She hesitates for a moment, but decides to entertain him. As soon as she's settled, he reaches for her hands, propping them above the keyboard.
"Let's play together." He says.
"You know I can't play."
"Look," Solomon arranges her fingers to hover above certain keys. He smiles at how awkward her inexperienced hands look, contorted in a strange position to properly cover all keys. "Just do it like this."
Gently, he presses her hands down one, two, three times, and a lovely melodic chord emerges from that. Simple, but pretty.
"Now follow my lead."
Before Hafsa can say anything, the caracal begins to play on the right half of the board. A melody, light and playful, but lacking in a base. She understands, and presses down on her assigned keys in time with Solomon's playing like a metronome. At last, the song is complete.
The serval's tail swishes, dangling from the stool, and it catches Solomon's. The ginger tail snakes around her own. A snort escapes her after Solomon lets out a particularly elaborate melodic flourish.
"See? You're playing."
Hafsa can't help but giggle. It's a little childish, but the simple act of creating music alongside him feels magical, even if she's just pressing the same keys in the same rhythm. Solomon however, can't keep his fingers still; they glissade all around the smooth white keys and a mischievous, bittersweet song follows.
He's always so sweet with her. Even though it may all be an act, Hafsa enjoys their performance and shoulder bumping until the final notes fizzle out into the stuffy music room air.
"You're a natural." Solomon smiles, stretching his arms towards the ceiling.
"Yeah, right." Hafsa scoffs.
"Now, how about we get that dinner?"
Something about how he phrases that sets Hafsa off.
He's trying to distract me. He always does this to get out of uncomfortable talks.
"You've been coming here every chance you get. I know you must be seething."
Solomon's ears flick in irritation. "I told you, I'm perfectly fine. Obviously, Ezekiel's outburst upset me, but it's nothing you should be concerned with."
"As your girlfriend, I think this is my concern. It's not good to isolate yourself like this."
The caracal huffs. "What an exaggeration."
"You know, the students are being more supportive than either of us expected. Brian told me that after that day, nobody's been giving him any trouble. Maybe Ezekiel beating him up was a good thing in the long run—"
"Excuse me?"
His glare is like arsenic.
"No, no, of course not like that, I phrased that poorly. What I meant is that—"
"Hafsa. Drop it. Now."
A shiver runs up her spine. "S-sorry."
He looks into her fearful eyes, and exhales a heavy sigh. "No, I'm sorry. But we've been dealing with this as student council members. I just… benefit from having some time to think by myself."
"Of course. Brian's your closest friend, after all. You guys have your own dynamics."
"Precisely." Solomon reaches out, patting the serval on her head before rising from his seat. "Now, shall we?"
"Sure."
They head out of the music room, leaving it and the phantom melody in isolation.
Desmond opens the door to the underground training room and is met with twelve eyes staring intently at him.
He instantly freezes (curse those herbivorous instincts), trying to gauge the atmosphere of the room. All of the other rams stare at him as if he's a ghost.
"Is it something on my fucking face? What?" Desmond finally demands.
"Is it true you and your girlfriend broke up?" Marcel asks bluntly.
"What the— how the hell do you know that?"
"Leslie told me you told him."
Double-crossing college bastard. I knew I shouldn't have video called him.
The Jacob sheep clears his throat. "Y-yeah, it's whatever. And it was mu—"
Before he could complete his deflection, the herd of rams attack him into a vicious group hug.
"It'll be okay, big guy!" Elmer practically yells.
Jordie nods vigorously. "We are the wind beneath your wings!"
"Females just don't get it!" Derek sniffles.
The black and white sheep struggles to maintain his footing, his breathing, and his sanity. Despite being the captain, even he can't shake off six opponents.
"B-break…! Break… it u-up!" He chokes.
Hearing his wheezing, the group obliges, but remains tightly huddled around him.
"W-what the hell…" Desmond rasps. "Trying to k-kill me…"
"Sorry, cap," Marcel pats him on the back. "But we know how sensitive you are. You must be a wreck."
Desmond suppresses his anger at the 'sensitive' remark. "B-but why all this…? I don't wanna be an asshole but… I kind thought… I don't know, we haven't been as tight as before…"
"I mean, you kind of ditched us for those carnies." Elmer frowns. "But c'mon man, it's you. You're the captain. We know you. You're our friend. Of course we're gonna have your back when you get dumped."
"Okay, first of all, it was very mutual!" The Jacob sheep snaps. "And second of all… I never ditched you guys. Intentionally, anyways."
"It kind of felt like that." Barry says.
"Yeah, you only hang out with the panther and the others. You call yourselves CHAMP, yeah?" Bucky adds. "It's like a student politics thing?"
"Kind of? It's mostly just to stick it to those DAVID assholes."
"Look, it's not like we think all carnies should get expelled. We hate those DAVID pricks too." Elmer crosses his arms. "Did you see what they did to Pigeon Brian? Totally not cool."
Marcel butts in. "But you of all people should know why we have reservations about carnies. I mean…" He glances feebly at the door. They all know whose name is engraved outside.
"And that panther dude…" Derek continues. "He seemed all cool at that ice cream thing, but then we find out he ate his mom?"
"That's not true at all." Desmond interjects firmly.
"But that's the point!" Bucky insists. "How are we supposed to know what's going on nowadays? Carnies beating up herbies, herbies beating up carnies! Everyone's saying something different, so how are we supposed to know what to trust?"
Desmond couldn't think of anything to counter that. For the average student, one not intimately aware of behind-the-scene details that Desmond and the rest of CHAMP are privy to, the reality of what's going on in Noah's Arc is pretty jumbled up. They're just teenagers, confused and scared. No doubt another part of DAVID's strategy. After all, fear is the greatest motivator.
"Well…" The ram says finally. "I guess you guys have to trust me. Because you know me. And you know that I'd never let anything bad happen to you."
A silent spell passes over the herd. After what seems like an eternity, Elmer nods.
"Yeah. I can get behind that."
Marcel sneers. "And if you're wrong, we can just beat the shit out of you."
Desmond lets out a chuckle. "Yeah. Perks of being a ram."
"Hell yeah!" Derek exclaims.
"But first, you gotta tell us what happened with your girlfriend!" Barry reminds them. "You fumbled a college student. That's humiliating."
"It was very nuanced." Desmond growls. "Get your asses in the locker room."
They all usher his along with them into the depths of the training room, a mass of horns and fur and cacophony. He allows himself to be tugged and jostled, for them to jeer and holler in their typical chaotic manner. Despite himself, he can't contain a faint smile. It's only now that he realizes just how much he's missed this.
Toma peeks around the corner. Sure enough, he spots his target: a stout rock dove swapping books in his locker. But as expected, a small cluster of other students gather around him. The bird speaks to them with a sheepish smile on his face, clearly not used to the attention.
Brian's been the talk of the town recently, thanks to the disastrous incident at the Fun Run. He'd come out of it a bit scuffed up, but the real scandal comes with the shocking revelation: he has a boyfriend.
Homosexuality isn't something one discusses openly. Even Noah's Arc, with its liberal progressive ideologies, has yet to contribute to the dialogue of same-sex couples in its curriculum (though Brian had secretly been trying to butter up House in the hopes of a future assembly on the matter). Much like the unsaid tension between herbies and carnies, homosexuality is something to be ignored, lingering in the subconscious minds of society.
And when such a taboo matter is suddenly and decisively thrust into the public eye, people tend to get a little curious. Not even hostile, just curious. Now that the imaginary boundary that held the subject of 'fruitiness' was demolished by Brian's public confession, he'd become somewhat of a celebrity, a voice for all things queer. He seems to have taken to his role with dignity, patiently enduring a barrage of inquisitive animals ask about his experiences, some more tactfully than others.
Toma has some questions as well. Not just about the obvious (though he also couldn't help but feel a tinge of curiosity at what exactly a male-on-male relationship entails), but more relating to the altercation with Ezekiel. As a leader of CHAMP, he figures he should keep on top of these things.
The panther notices the pigeon begin to close the locker door. Not wanting to stalk him all around campus, he hastily steels his courage and goes to approach the group. They make some room for him, too invested in Brian to care about the controversial feline. Brian, however, lights up at Toma's appearance.
"Hi, Toma!" He greets him with an upturned beak. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Uh, yeah." The cat scratches at his head nervously.
"So," A groundhog interrupts. "Why did you decide to date males?"
If Brian were drinking something, he would spit it out. "I-it doesn't really work like that."
"Well, I think it's totally cool that you have a boyfriend." A koala speaks up. "And brave!"
"Thank you! I guess…?" The pigeon chuckles helplessly.
"U-uh," Toma tries to put an end to this ridiculous interrogation. "C-could I talk to you? Just us two?"
The other animals ooh.
"Platonically!" He stresses. The last thing Brian needs right now is a rumor going around.
"Sure!" The bird agrees, obviously relieved. "Sorry, guys, let's catch up later."
Clearly not satisfied, the group of busybodies reluctantly say their goodbyes and scamper off, leaving just Toma and Brian.
"I guess you have some questions for me too." The rock dove chuckles.
"Not that kind. I just wanted to know how you've been holding up. I heard Ezekiel roughed you and your… boyfriend up."
"Yeah," Brian kicks at the ground. "It wasn't too bad, all things considered. Humbert is the one who really got the worst of it. He's got this big black eye now."
"Ouch."
"He just keeps on making jokes about it. 'You should see the other guy', he says."
"The other guy being Ezekiel."
"Yeah." The name erases the smile from his face. "I haven't seen him since that day."
"That's good. As long as he's not giving you trouble."
"All things considered, I think we ended up giving him the most trouble. The teachers are really keeping an eye on him now. Superintendent Prince's orders. Plus, turns out beating up a pigeon and his boyfriend for no reason doesn't make you high on popularity polls. I heard that some DAVID members even left after that."
"Really?"
"They just saw him for what he really is. A big bully." Brian shrugs. "To think, I was terrified for years, thinking of what would happen to me if anyone ever found out that I was homosexual. I thought everyone would be like Ezekiel. But I think that he reacted so strongly that it… turned people off. Made them see how stupid it all was. So, everyone's going out of their way to be supportive. Well, in their own ways."
"Yeah, I saw. Pretty intense support."
Brian laughs. "I'll take it, considering the alternative. They mean well enough."
"So you're doing well?"
"Actually, yes." He says with pride. "I'm doing pretty well. Even if I get asked who's the male and who's the female in my relationship at least five times a day."
"I'm happy for you." Toma smiles, before ducking to closer reach his friend. "And uh… who is the male and the female—"
"Not how it works, buddy."
The sun has all but set, and Ezekiel leans against the old fir tree, scanning the depressing scenery around him. The academy really let this part of the campus go, but perhaps that made sense considering the background. The once meticulously kept school garden had grown wild and ugly, overrun with weeds and grasshoppers. With autumn in full bloom, the wild grass is mostly carpeted by rotting orange leaves that create little pockets of stagnant water on the uneven ground. It's hardly a place worth visiting, and that taped-up storage shed is a real eyesore. Which makes it an excellent place to sneak in a smoke.
The rhinoceros flicks a cigarette stub into the loamy soil, aiming for a puddle. He hits his target and watches the embers of his cigarette die in the water. He grunts, considering a second one. Might as well, considering his current situation. He reaches for his back pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes, and flicks one out. As he adjusts the tube in his lips, he doesn't notice a dark figure approach him.
"It's getting cold out." A pair of glowing yellow eyes begin. The rhinoceros jolts.
His eyes narrow once he recognizes who it is.
"Fuckin' felines… Sneaking up on me…" He grumbles into his cigarette, trying in vain to get his lighter to work.
Toma doesn't respond, just staring into Ezekiel with his piercing, almond-shaped eyes. This ticks the herbivore off.
"What, you never seen a cigarette before?" He snarls. "Don't tell me you're gonna snitch."
"A lot of guys smoked in juvie."
"Of course." The thought prompts a wicked smirk. "You'd know all about that. And what happens to snitches."
"They get stitches. Or so I've been told."
Ezekiel cackles quietly. He inhales deeply, the tip of his now lit cigarette ablaze. "Well? What do you want? Quit staring at me with those creepy-ass eyes."
"Just… checking in. I guess."
"Fuck off."
"I mean it."
"Fuck off."
"You shouldn't have hit Brian."
"Yeah, no shit."
"Why did you do it?"
"What is this?" Ezekiel narrows his eyes. "Did House put you up to this? Tryna get me to confess?"
"What? No." Toma puts his hands up in defense. "I'm just curious. Like. Me, personally."
"What the fuck do you personally have to do with this? Go to hell."
Toma tucks his ears behind his head. "You really hate me, huh. Why? I didn't even do anything to you."
"What, are you slow or something? You're a goddamn criminal, and a meat-eating piece of shit. What more do you need?"
"Brian isn't, though. So why'd you hit him?"
"His little boy toy was. A carnie in the herbie track. He knew what he was doing."
"It wasn't because they're a couple?"
"What do I fucking care what those queers do to each other in bed? I was just trying to maintain the order. They're the ones who put up a fight. But no, I'm the bad guy."
Toma seems to ponder this. "You thought there was a real chance the penguin would do something?"
Ezekiel sighs. "It's not about that. It's the principle of the thing. If one carnie gets away with it on technicalities, then all of them will try coming up with some bullshit excuse."
"Did the tiger do that?"
"Pfft, you bet. She had some kind of illness, walked around with a little breathing tube and everything. Acted perfectly harmless. But of course, that's all that was. An act. Just like what you're doing now."
"What?"
"The understanding, holier-than-thou act you're doing now. You can drop it. You make me sick, thinking I'd fall for that." His expression darkens. "Every day, I see it. Carnies playing nice and friendly, as if they're not animals literally designed to kill and eat the supposed 'friends' they hang around with."
"It's true you don't put on a friendly act when you say that all carnies should die."
Ezekiel laughs, full-bellied and sincere. "You got that right. No acts with me. But that's all anyone ever wants to see. Acts, make-believe. Whatever puts their stupid little minds at ease. Anything except the ugly truth of it all." He lets out a deep puff of smoke from his nostrils.
Toma dodges the cloud. "Well, how do you know what the truth is?"
"Lived experience. Basic logic. How anyone discovers any truth."
"If I told you I never attacked any herbivore, would you believe me?"
"Fuck no."
"But it's the truth."
"The truth of a carnie like you is worthless to me. You'll say whatever you need to say."
"If you're right, then why would I bother trying to convince you of anything? Couldn't all carnies just rule under threat of violence? Doesn't that prove we don't have such bad intentions or societal… leverage?" He silently congratulates himself on using a Hafsa-like word so naturally.
Even Ezekiel doesn't immediately retaliate. "Wars are won through influence, nowadays. Brute force alone won't cut it."
"It's not like carnies are winning any elections."
"Thank God for that." The white rhino exhales a billowing wave of smoke once more. "Can you fuck off already? You're ruining this cigarette."
"I guess I didn't know what else to expect from you." He glances behind them, looking on at the gloomy vegetation.
"I…" His voice acts before he can. "I loved my mother. Even if she had a knife to my throat, I wouldn't have hurt her. I would've let her kill me."
He's not sure what possessed him to say that. It just felt necessary to do so. Lacing a proper way to end the conversation, he just trudges off, tripping on an over grown root on the way out.
Ezekiel watches wordlessly on until his silhouette fades into nothingness. He assesses the state of his cigarette; only one or two drags left.
"Fuck…" he mutters.
Something about the panther's last remarks. He believed them. Something about the way he said it was entirely too honest.
But the truth behind the words are forgotten by the time he puts out his cigarette.
AN:Thanks for reading! I really did disappear for a minute there. Sorry about that, even I'm not sure what happened. Nonetheless, I offer another chapter. A classic 'people standing around talking for the sake of character depth' chapter, my favorite! I hope to bring updates more frequently, but that is just a hope.
Take it easy and stay safe.