Strings (Ereri - SNK)

♥

That angered both me and the violinist himself.

"It's not a piece of junk," he defended.

"Whatever. Scoot."

The man's eyes rolled and he clearly muttered something under his breath before leaning down to place the instrument back in the tattered case between his feet.

"What was that?" growled the cop, seizing his wrist. The violinist looked back up with widened eyes as he weakly attempted to free himself from the grasp. "Kid, I'll have you know I can arrest you for-"

"He didn't do anything wrong!"

The words were out of my mouth before I was consciously aware of what exactly it was I was doing. Still, I decided to go with it; I trotted in the direction of the scene. All three of their heads swiveled in my direction.

"What?" asked the officer, absently releasing the man's wrist. "Excuse me?"

"He...he was just playing the violin," I tried to reason. "He wasn't doing any harm, and it isn't like he was asking for any money."

"Yeah, but it's illegal to loiter like that if you don't have permission from the county."

"I-I know. But I don't think he knew. Did you?" I asked the man.

His eyes were hard, still angry, but he shook his head.

"Yeah, but-"

"It won't happen again, sir. And...I'll take full responsibility if I have to."

"So you know this guy?" The officer nodded at the violinist.

"Um...yeah, I do. We're friends."

The officer huffed. "Fine. I'll let you off with a warning, but if it happens again..."

"Understood, sir."

The policemen departed with a classic "stay out of trouble" and the murmurs of the crowd returned to normal.

"Are you alright?" I turned and asked the man, who was resuming locking away his gorgeous instrument in its case.

"Yeah," he said without looking up. I watched as his thin, shaky fingers latched the case and wrapped around the handle before he moved back to his feet. He still didn't meet my eyes. "Um, thank you," he said.

"Of course," I replied with a smile. "I thought your playing was incredible."

"Th-thanks..." He wrapped his arms around himself and I suddenly realized what he was wearing-a black cotton sweater and tattered, dirty, ripped jeans and nothing on his feet but a pair of thick socks, one bearing a hole in the toe.

I frowned. "You must be freezing. Here."

"No, that's okay..."

But I was already pulling my scarf from around my neck. I reached out with it. "May I?"

His dark eyes scanned over the material in consideration. "Fine," he mumbled. Carefully, I wrapped it around his bare neck and draped it over his small shoulders to cover as much of him as I could. I suddenly saw how small he was-at least a few inches shorter than my 5'10" and skinny. He practically swam in the sweater.