Theories of Unbalanced Forces and Black Holes

part two | theory fourteen

“What's this for?” He asked, eyeing Claude.

“I was supposed to bet on Maximillian successfully restoring his pride but that 100℅ failing possibility of yours just crushed it.” Claude raked his messy brown hair and grinned at him.

Diederich observed the piece of paper again.

“Sweet.”

Since the four weren't meant to master the art of misdirection and magic tricks, they were eventually scolded. (Mainly because of Katherine's laughs) Maximillian had come out of the room, pale and his eyes the size of saucers; repeating the same words like a mantra.

“She took my pride.” He repeated in whispers.

Claude patted his back and nodded consolingly.

“I got your back, Hamlet.” Claude relayed to him, rubbing his back with his palm.

Alouette had figured that Maximillian had played Hamlet in that so called play...a Hamlet that peed his pants after seeing his father's ghost that it.

Before they knew it, they were in Old McFranklin's Courtyard. Teachers had already asked them to leave for they were disturbing students----mainly Katherine’s laugh---from practicing in the preliminary concours.

Maximillian stood in front of them, his broad back flashing on them like a hero about to do his duties. A gust of wind had begun to blow and chilled them like that of ice itself. He gripped his bow tightly. He took a deep breath and turned around, his violin on his shoulder, below his neck. His eyelids shut close and the bow hit the strings and emitted sound.

Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture was the piece that came out of Claude's mouth as the violin continued emitting music.music

The violin had a voice on its own. The waltzed perfectly in sync with the strings it came out soft, slow and light. The sound was pleasing and gentle, as if they were meant to cleanse souls of the weary and sick. And without even noticing, the peace had reached its denouement.

Once Maximillian lowered his bow, he was welcomed back to the real world with a round of applause.

“Why 1812 Overture? I thought you hated Tchaikovsky now.” Claude said, still clapping.

“Because I have defended my life from Napoleon.” Maximillian smirked.

“You mean Russia. The song was meant for Russia's defense for their motherland.” Diederich corrected, even knowing the origin of the song. “Who are you referring to as Napoleon?”

“Mary Jane, obviously.” Katherine rolled her eyes. “And he refers himself as Russia.” She quoted back.

“That's a lame metaphor, Max.” Diederich replied. “You're not even Russian.”

After hearing the comment, Maximillian flinched at the name ‘Max' and urged to correct him but didn't, thinking that it would be useless.

“Oh shut up, Dee.” Maximillian sat down beside them. They were sitting on the stairs that lead to a dead garden covered in a scheme of orange.

“I think the song was beautiful.” Alouette compliment and observed how high Maximillian's smile reached.

“At least there's one person who doesn't care! Thank you very much, Alouette.” Maximillian replied and the rest of them laughed.

Nature was definitely dying and the wind smelled of ice and cold but being surrounded by people who burst out laughing after a corny joke was definitely a scene full of life mixed along and blended with a warm atmosphere. Never had Alouette felt so teenage-like...so normal.