The magical life of the not so magical Theodore Ward (bxb)

Chapter Seventeen

Theodore's summer was starting to feel like an even more repetitive version of groundhog day. His days consisted of: eat, sleep, smoke, repeat and very little else. All fine and dandy, until it got boring.

And it had gotten boring.

He doodled from time to time (he couldn't call it drawing). He wasn't good enough to really enjoy it and it was a little disheartening.

No magic? How dare they, but fine. Not making him a prodigy at the very least? Absolutely fucking rude.

He used to play the violin, but Theodore lacked talent and more importantly, in the end, the dedication. He hadn't necessary played for his own enjoyment, he'd mostly played trying to somehow impress his parents. That hadn't worked, and so the violin had become some sort of symbol of don't even bother,Theodore, there's no point in trying, and hadn't been touched in over a year.

The casing must have collected layers of dust, and Theodore was tempted to go up the attic and look. But seeing it, holding it, wouldn't it be a reminder of how he was still the same boy, of how he was still craving validation even when he long since tried to earn it?

It was kinda sad, having given up at the mere age of seventeen. It could have, maybe should have been liberating but perhaps he still cared too much, after all.

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Theodore's fingers followed the curves of the violin, almost like they would a lover, should he ever find one. It was a beautiful instrument, and the sounds it produced -the melancholy, mostly- spoke to his heart.

He carefully took it out of its case and placed it on his collarbone. Then the bow. It had seen better days, had some lose hairs but that was natural. They needed to be tightened, too.

An almost experimental stroke, and as expected, his violin was out of tune. It had sounded similar to nails on a chalkboard. He took his time tuning, he could do it by ear.

Then, as sunlight creeped through the small attic window, he played.

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