The (mostly) Empty Music Room

[caden]

Caden's one true love was sitting right in front of him.

The piano. His slender fingers danced lightly across the keys so as to play quietly, afraid someone might come in to find him there when he shouldn't be. Caden wasn't really a strict rule-follower, but he did worry about being caught.

He should be at lunch right now, eating and talking with his friends. But he much preferred the company of himself and the piano. The piece that was being played was actually known to many people with good taste in music - the song called "Rescued" by Jack's Mannequin. Caden had the ability to teach himself basically anything just from listening to it, and this was the first time he'd ever played "Rescued", but it sounded like he'd practised dozens of times before.

His fair hair had fallen in front of his eyes, but he didn't move it away, he just closed his eyes and played just as easily. He knew the piano like the back of his hand. Maybe even better.

[caden]

"...I feel all right, so please don't get me rescued," he finished, the words only barely a whisper. He really did have a nice voice, he just didn't like to use it. Self-conscious. He was the same way with the piano, though. If he'd known Ana was in the room, he most certainly would not have still been playing.

He was still for a moment, and then he opened his eyes, chewing absently on his lower lip. Probably deciding what he'd done wrong, which was, in reality, absolutely nothing. The boy was awfully hard on himself, though. He could always make a flaw or two out of nothing.

He ran his fingers through his messy blond wavy hair to get it out of his eyes, but being the annoyingly long hair that it was, it just fell back into place. Though in his moment of plear peripheral vision, he noticed someone standing in the doorway to the left of him. His first thought was that it could be a teacher, here to make him leave his lunchtime sanctuary, so he immediately jumped upright.

He really was a small boy, only five-foot-five. His nice pale blue eyes went wide at the sight of the other person. Not at all a teacher. A fellow student. His face flushed red, and all he said was, "Hello," in a small voice, as if he was guilty of something.

[caden]

The spontaneous compliment made his fair skin turn an even deeper shade of red. He was pleased, of course, that she thought so. But it embarrassed him to be caught unaware like this. The last time he'd played in front of another person... he couldn't remember it. He'd grown very used to being his own teacher, his own critic.

He wondered vaguely if there was any way that you could consciously make yourself stop blushing. He hadn't found it, yet.

"Thank you..." he said quietly, returning the half-smile that she offered him. They were pitiful, the two of them, being so shy. Caden secretly wished that he was the type of person who could simply walk up to a person and make conversation. He never had been that type of person, and he doubted he ever would be.

He tilted his head a little bit to one side without realizing it, as he looked at her. "I'm Caden... I don't think we've met," he said simply, after a long moment of deciding.

[caden]

Somehow, speaking to someone that was even more shy than himself gave him confidence. Yes, he was intimidated by overconfident and loud-mouthed people sometimes. It made him extra conscious of what he was contributing to the conversation. But with this, he could say anything and it would save their rapidly dying conversation.

"Ana," he repeated quietly, as if he would remember it better if he said it. "It's nice to meet you, too," he added quickly, remembering his manners. He took the couple of steps necessary to reach where she stood.

Somehow, of course, he managed to trip over the shoelace of his old ragged black converse, and he stumbled, but thankfully didn't fall. Regaining his balance, he silently cursed himself for being such a clumsy idiot.

He held out his hand to shake hers. Politeness didn't really come naturally to him, it was a result of years of having it forced onto him.

[caden]

"Yes... I'm fine. Just.. not the most graceful person," he admitted, laughing nervously. Great. She was probably worried about his sanity, now. Or his sobriety?

He did notice that her hand was quite a bit colder than his own. Possibly because of all the piano-playing he'd been doing, his hands /were/ slightly warmer than usual. He let his hand casually slip back to his side and into the pocket of his dark-coloured jeans.

At the second compliment, he felt himself blush again. Damnit. Just when he'd started to go back to his normal colour. He couldn't help but smile. He was even less confident about his singing ability than his piano-playing one.

"Thank you," he said again. Then hesitated. "Do you... sing? Or play?" he asked, gesturing back to the piano with the hand that wasn't in his pocket.

[caden]

The piano, to Caden, was a chance to escape. He'd taught himself to play, when he had had far too much time on his hands in his preteen years. Leukemia had left him unable to continue his previous way of life, so mostly bedridden, he spent his little time outside of bed and the hospital sitting at the piano bench downstairs in his house, picking out tunes by ear.

Then he'd gotten better, and gradually went back to normality. But you cannot simply forget music. It stuck with him even though he'd beaten the disease.

When he played, he still was forcibly reminded of those long hours spent on the piano bench, even though he was exhausted and feeling ill. He'd forced himself to keep at it, to prove to everyone that he wasn't entirely useless.

His pale blue eyes studied her carefully as she spoke, and once she'd finished, he nodded, understanding. "I doubt you're 'not that great'," he disagreed, "But I can't say for sure unless I hear you.." he hinted, smirking a little.