Post by Marluxia teh Petal Princess on Oct 14, 2009 21:09:19 GMT -5
Write About Me
The music room was my after-school domain. It was as if I lived there, and people couldn't figure out why. I was a boy of seemingly no intrests in anything or anyone at all - in fact I had failed a few classes due to lack of intrest and would later have to take an extra year of high school to make up for it. But something about the music room roused an intrest so deep, one might call it an affection. I had taken a liking to that room the first time I had played the upright piano that stood against the wall opposite the door. Of course, I had been oblivious to the reason then, being only fourteen and there on my High School Orientation near the end of the eighth grade. I know perfectly well now.
The echo was perfect. That was it.
The echo of the room created perfect sound quality, and once I had developed the experience to tell the difference, I became a part of the music room; just as if I was one of the speakers, the microphones, the amplifiers, or the piano itself - an object that never left. After school, I could hardly seperate myself from the concrete walls or the thinly-carpetted floor. And maybe it was because bred into me was a passion for music, vocals especially, that I loved this room so much. No matter how dull it was, it was still - and would always remain - my favourite room of the school.
I sat on the piano bench, tracing my fingers over ebony and ivory, waiting for something in my head to assemble. Though I had practiced many times before, there was still one thing missing from my piece: a name. I knew that if anyone could name it, it would've been Nosodachi, a dear old friend of mine... or perhaps my parents. But they were, by no means, allowed to know about this. I didn't want them interfering with it. If I had taken on most of my life alone, then this was no different. With a serious grudge still intact, I would do this with the help of my roommate, and no one else.
Nosodachi was nineteen in appearance only; tall and lithe with soft, gentle features. Everything about him was gracefully, and carefully, put together in the most precious of ways - as if he had been fitted to be beautiful and desirable and seductive, as he most certainly knew he was. The elder was always pale and looking ill, almost fragile, when in truth it took too much to make Nosodachi sick. His skin was ice cold, as death, and a soft, almost sleepy, fatigued look usually rested in his eyes whenever he was found awake. With I, his only true friend, awake during the day, the look came from staying up later than was usual for him so he could see me. When I did see him, in the early mornings and late evenings, he always had his lengths of silky jet held away in a loose braid that hung to mid-back, though when it was freed it was clearly longer. His bangs were cut carelessly, but it worked with the overall image as strands of charcoal infused with blood hung dangerously just above his eyes. Red streaks were a clearly visible feature that added depth and dynamics to the absolute vision that was Nosodachi. And red eyes. Beautiful rubies among the starch silk of his skin - fresh blood upon virgin snow.... A tired, almost lazy - and yet somehow still alert and searching - gaze that made one tremble underneath it.
He dressed beautifully, if not simply; but that was alright. Black slacks and a white button-down were all he needed. The way his shirt clung to his slim frame and hugged onto his body like a summer breeze was completely endearing. This simplicity of dress appeared on him as young innocence, but the rest of him - the two black leather choker-belts fastened around his neck, a family-crested ring on his right middle finger, and a white gold band that intricately wrapped around a nearly black sapphire and the opposite middle finger... all of this was so sophisticated, including that dark, brooding emotion in his eyes.
He was a figure of great beauty, and grace; of deadly perfection and sharp sophistication. The piercing, but alluring sweet fragrence that hung about him.... For someone with a well-trained eye, these features would set off warning bells in their head. However, when I had allowed Nosodachi to move in with me, I had been none the wiser. I knew now, fully and completely what exactly these added up to.
Inspiration, of course.
Inspiration for a dull, melencholy tune that could flow in rythmn from my long and slender fingers, changing tempo and mood as quickly as fire can rage from orange to blue, depending on the fuel it has been fed. This one piece was written especially for Nosodachi, and for one to know him for only a few moments after hearing the piano's melody underneath my fingertips, they would understand. But that was just it. The music teacher, Professor Bolenzia told me that the song needed to be more even - the erractic changes of mood were completely seperate and as such should be seperated. End quote. I told her that she would understand if she knew. She frowned. Professor Bolenzia is rather frightening when she frowns. Yet, with the passion I held for Nosodachi's song, I anchored myself and refused to change it. Sometimes I wonder how I managed not to give in to the weakness taking root directly in my soul as I cowered under her scowl; but the point is that I did.
"Nikki? Are you in here?" It was a dumb question. When was I ever not in there?
I turned my head slightly to see Nosodachi's head poke just inside the door and instantly dismissed the idiotic inquiry. Of course, since my most beloved roommate didn't attend my high school, he wouldn't know that this was my cherished territory. I forgave him mentally. "Yeah, I'm here," I responded with a quick wave. Nosodachi's pale lips curved into the happiest of smiles I think it was possible for him to manage. His smile managed to make him look innocent despite the attire which, in a uniform school, made him look like a rebel-goth that didn't need make-up to look dead.
"What's that?" he asked, stepping inside quickly. He had noticed the sheet music propped up on the piano, nameless and near complete. I glanced at it and stared for a moment until I registered what exactly he was referencing. Nosodachi raised one fine eyebrow as I jumped, causing a flurry of sheetmusic to be launched into the air. Then, as quickly as they had been thrown up, I snatched them - sheet by sheet - and stuffed them into the piano bench.
"Nothing," I squeaked with a lopsided grin of faux innocence and a deep flush painted across my face. "Nothing at all. Notes. I mean - NOT notes.... Uhmm.... Work. That's it. Work." I sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than my beautious roommate. Unfortunately, Nosodachi is of a higher intelligence and nothing gets by it. At all. Ever.
"It's for me, isn't it?"
I gulped, forcing myself to remain calm. There was that thing that he did. Nosodachi likes to use those eyes of his to his advantage. They're his best asset, my most favourite of his features, and he uses them to manipulate me the way an experienced - and seasoned - rider uses a crop on his unruly and uncooperative stallion. Those eyes definitely got me going in more ways than one.
The music room was my after-school domain. It was as if I lived there, and people couldn't figure out why. I was a boy of seemingly no intrests in anything or anyone at all - in fact I had failed a few classes due to lack of intrest and would later have to take an extra year of high school to make up for it. But something about the music room roused an intrest so deep, one might call it an affection. I had taken a liking to that room the first time I had played the upright piano that stood against the wall opposite the door. Of course, I had been oblivious to the reason then, being only fourteen and there on my High School Orientation near the end of the eighth grade. I know perfectly well now.
The echo was perfect. That was it.
The echo of the room created perfect sound quality, and once I had developed the experience to tell the difference, I became a part of the music room; just as if I was one of the speakers, the microphones, the amplifiers, or the piano itself - an object that never left. After school, I could hardly seperate myself from the concrete walls or the thinly-carpetted floor. And maybe it was because bred into me was a passion for music, vocals especially, that I loved this room so much. No matter how dull it was, it was still - and would always remain - my favourite room of the school.
I sat on the piano bench, tracing my fingers over ebony and ivory, waiting for something in my head to assemble. Though I had practiced many times before, there was still one thing missing from my piece: a name. I knew that if anyone could name it, it would've been Nosodachi, a dear old friend of mine... or perhaps my parents. But they were, by no means, allowed to know about this. I didn't want them interfering with it. If I had taken on most of my life alone, then this was no different. With a serious grudge still intact, I would do this with the help of my roommate, and no one else.
Nosodachi was nineteen in appearance only; tall and lithe with soft, gentle features. Everything about him was gracefully, and carefully, put together in the most precious of ways - as if he had been fitted to be beautiful and desirable and seductive, as he most certainly knew he was. The elder was always pale and looking ill, almost fragile, when in truth it took too much to make Nosodachi sick. His skin was ice cold, as death, and a soft, almost sleepy, fatigued look usually rested in his eyes whenever he was found awake. With I, his only true friend, awake during the day, the look came from staying up later than was usual for him so he could see me. When I did see him, in the early mornings and late evenings, he always had his lengths of silky jet held away in a loose braid that hung to mid-back, though when it was freed it was clearly longer. His bangs were cut carelessly, but it worked with the overall image as strands of charcoal infused with blood hung dangerously just above his eyes. Red streaks were a clearly visible feature that added depth and dynamics to the absolute vision that was Nosodachi. And red eyes. Beautiful rubies among the starch silk of his skin - fresh blood upon virgin snow.... A tired, almost lazy - and yet somehow still alert and searching - gaze that made one tremble underneath it.
He dressed beautifully, if not simply; but that was alright. Black slacks and a white button-down were all he needed. The way his shirt clung to his slim frame and hugged onto his body like a summer breeze was completely endearing. This simplicity of dress appeared on him as young innocence, but the rest of him - the two black leather choker-belts fastened around his neck, a family-crested ring on his right middle finger, and a white gold band that intricately wrapped around a nearly black sapphire and the opposite middle finger... all of this was so sophisticated, including that dark, brooding emotion in his eyes.
He was a figure of great beauty, and grace; of deadly perfection and sharp sophistication. The piercing, but alluring sweet fragrence that hung about him.... For someone with a well-trained eye, these features would set off warning bells in their head. However, when I had allowed Nosodachi to move in with me, I had been none the wiser. I knew now, fully and completely what exactly these added up to.
Inspiration, of course.
Inspiration for a dull, melencholy tune that could flow in rythmn from my long and slender fingers, changing tempo and mood as quickly as fire can rage from orange to blue, depending on the fuel it has been fed. This one piece was written especially for Nosodachi, and for one to know him for only a few moments after hearing the piano's melody underneath my fingertips, they would understand. But that was just it. The music teacher, Professor Bolenzia told me that the song needed to be more even - the erractic changes of mood were completely seperate and as such should be seperated. End quote. I told her that she would understand if she knew. She frowned. Professor Bolenzia is rather frightening when she frowns. Yet, with the passion I held for Nosodachi's song, I anchored myself and refused to change it. Sometimes I wonder how I managed not to give in to the weakness taking root directly in my soul as I cowered under her scowl; but the point is that I did.
"Nikki? Are you in here?" It was a dumb question. When was I ever not in there?
I turned my head slightly to see Nosodachi's head poke just inside the door and instantly dismissed the idiotic inquiry. Of course, since my most beloved roommate didn't attend my high school, he wouldn't know that this was my cherished territory. I forgave him mentally. "Yeah, I'm here," I responded with a quick wave. Nosodachi's pale lips curved into the happiest of smiles I think it was possible for him to manage. His smile managed to make him look innocent despite the attire which, in a uniform school, made him look like a rebel-goth that didn't need make-up to look dead.
"What's that?" he asked, stepping inside quickly. He had noticed the sheet music propped up on the piano, nameless and near complete. I glanced at it and stared for a moment until I registered what exactly he was referencing. Nosodachi raised one fine eyebrow as I jumped, causing a flurry of sheetmusic to be launched into the air. Then, as quickly as they had been thrown up, I snatched them - sheet by sheet - and stuffed them into the piano bench.
"Nothing," I squeaked with a lopsided grin of faux innocence and a deep flush painted across my face. "Nothing at all. Notes. I mean - NOT notes.... Uhmm.... Work. That's it. Work." I sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than my beautious roommate. Unfortunately, Nosodachi is of a higher intelligence and nothing gets by it. At all. Ever.
"It's for me, isn't it?"
I gulped, forcing myself to remain calm. There was that thing that he did. Nosodachi likes to use those eyes of his to his advantage. They're his best asset, my most favourite of his features, and he uses them to manipulate me the way an experienced - and seasoned - rider uses a crop on his unruly and uncooperative stallion. Those eyes definitely got me going in more ways than one.