Casper doesn't show up at the stairwell for two more days.
It's not like I was expecting him or anything. The stairwell's a pretty crappy place to eat lunch, after all. But I know for a fact that it has nothing to do with what Winston told me since at times, he'd give a wave in the halls or offer a polite hello at the door of the English room. His friends have taken notice though, which cause double the amount of glares from time to time.
I don't really understand it since I've done nothing wrong. I haven't even made a move yet; it's Casper that's playing the game. So in reality, they should be glaring at him, not me. I don't even know why the hell I'm still dormant. It's only a matter of time until he grows bored and moves away. Would it be a week from now? A month? Maybe three days?
Good things come to those who wait. That's what Dad says. You can't rush life, Holden. Trust me. So I sit patiently on the stairs, staring out the window while my stomach growls against the hunger. I think about summer soon approaching, the essay I haven't even started, and what he's possibly doing at this exact moment. Maybe eating, maybe laughing, maybe not thinking about me.
Holy fuck, it's too goddamn silent.
I stand up quickly; black dots with golden halos speck my line of vision. I pause for a moment to let the blood settle before going down the stairs, but it doesn't stop the feeling of needles pinching the soles of my feet.
I walk through the halls at a leisurely pace, avoiding the cafeteria where most kids are. There are a few students idling aimlessly in the halls but none of them look my way, acting like I don't exist at all.
Should I be pleased?
There's only one place I can go during lunch besides the stairwell, which is the music room. I'll find the place empty if I'm lucky and I'll be able to play at my own solitude and speed. I rarely get chances like these, after all, so I might as well take it if it's there. Use your time wisely. That's another thing Dad says.
The music room is dark by the time I reach it. I rest my hand on the doorknob, about to push it open until someone calls, "Hey, kid!"
I ignore it.
"Hey! What are you doing over there? The lights are off for a reason."
I turn to the teacher who's walking over. He's a pudgy man with a balding head and sweat hiding under the folds of his skin. His face is red as hell even though it doesn't look like he's been running.
"I was just going in to practice, sir."
His eyebrows fold together. "Practice what?"
"The piano."
"I've never seen you in band—"
"I'll be signing up next year. My family hasn't gotten a grand piano yet—we're looking around—so I decided to practice on the one here. Making use of what I've got, you know?"
The man stares for a moment before he leans backward, looking content. "Huh. It's nice to see a student taking initiative. Well, don't go fooling around in there, and leave the place just the way you found it. Am I clear?"
"Crystal."
The corners of his lips pull up slightly by my comment, but before I can fully see it, he walks past with brisk steps. The guy's dumb as hell; he should've known who I was just by looking at my clothes. Nonetheless, I push the door open and flip on the lights, the fine polish of the grand piano gleaming in response.
It's the second piano I've ever played in my life. The first was at the theatre where Dad used to work as a janitor. He'd take me with him sometimes when there was nobody around to look after me, and I'd watch the pianist play on, and on, and on. When the show was over and everybody left, I'd sit at the bench and also play on, and on, and on.
It was the first time Dad took notice of my gift. At first he passed it off as imitation, but when I did it again, the idea finally hit home.
As I walk to the bench, I imagine myself as a world-renowned pianist. There's a large crowd seated before me, dressed in their finest and waiting for me to grace their ears with my genius. A loud applause comes from the crowd as I take a bow, dimming once I'm seated behind the keys. There's an announcer calling my name as I crack my knuckles, relax my fingers, straighten my back, and play on.
The music starts with a tinkling sound, almost taunting, as my body regresses into the feel of playing the piano. I'm clumsy at first but it doesn't take long to master it, mind flashing back to the moments of my childhood where I sat in an empty theatre, losing myself in another world while Dad swept floors and changed garbage bags.
They're all watching with baited breath, eyes trapped on the movement of my fingers against the keys. All ten are moving in a rapid flow, going left to right, close together, drawn apart, over and under; so quick that my toes curl in excitement.
Somebody in the crowd whispers, "Isn't that Gaspard de la Nuit?"
"Yes," another answers. "One of the hardest pieces known to man."
"And he's only fifteen?"
"Such a tender age, yet so bright."
"Holy shit."
The music cuts. I slam my fingers against the keys at the interruption, turning to the doorway to see Casper gawking with his mouth half open. How the hell did he find me?
"S-sorry," I say as I stand from the bench. "I-I didn't...I mean, I wasn't..."
"What the hell are you apologising for?" Casper walks in the room, shutting the door behind him. "That was amazing."
My face is getting hot again. "I-it was nothing."
"Nothing? That's a hard ass piece and you're telling me it's nothing?"
I open my mouth, but I can't speak. The words are lodged in my throat. I probably look like a goddamn idiot, but Casper doesn't make a show of it. Instead, he's walking over with footsteps full of determination, which makes fear rise at the pit of my stomach. I think about backing up—running away, even—but once Casper's eyes meet mine, I seem to lose all sense of feeling. His lips are moving; probably asking a question, but all I can think about is how pretty he looks under the florescent lights.
"Holden?"
"What?"
"Where did you learn how to play like that? You must've taken classes, right? Nobody can play like that without some high class teacher."
I shake my head, sitting back down on the bench before my legs can give away. "Nobody taught me. I learned by ear and sight."
"Ear and sight," he echoes. "So you mean to tell me you just sat and watched somebody play, then you did it yourself?"
"I mean, I read a little..."
"The bastard says he read a little. Damn." Casper pushes my body to the side with his hip, sitting next to me. My face hits a new level of heat but he doesn't seem to notice it; just sits staring at the keys. "Let's play something."
"What?"
"I feel jealous. Let's play something so I can feel on par again. Do you know Duet by Philip Glass?"
I blink. "Y-yeah, but—"
"Be quiet."
Okay.
I'm the first to start playing at his command. My heart is beating a million times per second, and it doesn't make a show of slowing anytime soon once Casper's fingers hit the keys. His movement is slower than mine, causing an imbalance, but I can't help but sweat at how goddamn close his fingers are. I look over at him, the words I don't think this is a good idea forming in my mouth, but I never say them. It's a good thing too. He just looks so damn good playing, and it would've been a waste to put a stop to it.
Casper shifts to my side, kicking me off the keys as his fingers move to a more playful tune. He glances over with this smug look on his face, head nodding to the beat. I could've died right then, I swear. Instead, I find my place in the tune, our fingers finally moving together simultaneously.
"How did you find me?" I ask, feeling more confident.
"I went looking for you."
"You seem to be always looking for me lately."
Casper smiles. His pinkie touches mine. "I can't help it. I'm intrigued."
The shock almost makes me miss a beat. He notices and makes up for it by speeding up, challenging me. The excitement's back and I'm nearly shaking from it, toes curling so hard my feet become misshapen balls in my shoes.
"Did you need to tell me something?" I ask, desperate to hear his voice again.
Casper snakes an arm behind my back to get to my side, pushing my body closer in the process. "Winston told me something interesting about you."
"How interesting?"
"Very interesting." His breath hits the back of my neck and makes the hairs stand as straight as statues. "He told me you creep him out."
"He did?"
"Yep. Said I should steer clear or something. But I've got a problem, you see. I'm always doing the things I'm not supposed to."
My smile falters as I steal a glance at him. He doesn't seem angry, though. Neither does he seem worried. There's this happy, animated look on his face, like his friend's warnings mean as little to him as Ms. Matthews's lessons.
I finally relax at the proximity of our bodies, my head almost leaning against his shoulder. "He's right, you know. I'm nothing good. I make a lot of stupid mistakes, and I know they're stupid, but I can't stop myself from repeating them. I really can't."
"We all make mistakes, Holden."
"No. Not my kind of mistakes."
"And what makes you think my mistakes aren't as bad as yours?"
I shake my head. "Trust me on this one. I know."
Casper laughs as he moves his arm away, going back to his own side. "You're a genius," he says as his pinkie touches mine again, "but you don't know shit."
I don't say anything after that. I can't. He's pushing against the boundaries I've set for myself, treading right at the border of my safe zone. Even though I don't understand how he recognises the right buttons to push, I can tell he knows exactly what he's doing.
But I don't say it aloud. Neither does he. We just play with hips close together and fingers flirting to the tune. Our bodies seem to mould together to the point where I can practically hear his heart beating in time with the music, all until that moment where he abandons the keys and leaves me alone once again.
We sit in silence for a while. His chest is rising and falling like he just ran a marathon, but he doesn't tell me why. I don't need him to.
"Casper, I—"
"Don't speak."
So I don't. I sit patiently with my hands in my lap, hoping that he doesn't see just how red my ears are. Who am I kidding? They're hotter than coals.
"Why are you wasting your time?" he finally asks after a while. "You can move on. Why are you keeping yourself here?"
"Maybe I'll tell you one day, but not now. It's not the right time."
He shakes his head and stands, moving away from the piano. My body jerks in response, ready to go after him, but I stop myself before it's too late. He needs the space; I can see that.
Casper stands in a corner with his arms folded across his chest, smile replaced by a deep frown and creases on his forehead. I can't seem to move from my spot as I stare at him. Hell, I'm not even breathing right. My heart rate's rocketing to the moon, and he doesn't even know it.
Finally, Casper coughs and puts his hands in his pockets, looking at me once again. "Are you free tonight?"
"T-tonight?"
"I'm speaking English, aren't I? Are you free or not?"
I raise an eyebrow sceptically. "I'm free, but what for?"
"I've got a swim meet after school today, and I thought you might like to come. Dinner's on us, so you don't have to worry about making it home or something. Plus, it's a Friday. What better way to spend it than watching teenage boys battle to the death?"
It takes a moment to process his words in my head. "But you don't know me much, and isn't this sudden?"
Casper shrugs it off. "Nobody knows anybody much until they take the first step, right? If people keep sheltering themselves away from others because things might get weird or awkward, nobody will ever have friends. Don't shelter yourself, Holden. You'll be alone forever if you do. Step out of your comfort zone for once."
He has this look in his eyes that's telling me he won't take no for an answer. I end up laughing even though the situation doesn't call for it, playing a light riff on the piano to lift the mood. I feel like I'm suffocating.
"I'm not much of a sports fan, you know."
"You can be a Casper fan, then."
I already am, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I sigh. "Some of your friends don't like me either. I see the looks they give me."
Casper shrugs again. "They're just looks. Besides, nobody likes anybody until they give them a reason to." He's walking over to the door. "Don't bother going on the bus today, O'Donovan. You're coming with me."
A/N: The video shows a cover of Duet by Philip Glass, in case you were wondering how it sounds. I'd advise you to watch it since it's quite beautiful. Trust me, you won't get bored :P