Prompt: Originally Mine
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You both like larry stylinson.
You: Harry Styles was the son of one of the most famous classic music composers, so he was forced into music from a very, very young age. As in, his mother would play music against her pregnant belly so he would 'hear' it. From the time he could walk and talk, he was playing music. Guitar, piano, flute, violin, you name it, he could play it. His chief instrument was the violin. Just something about the way he held it made him feel wild, like the classic 'fiddler on the roof'. He privately called himself a fiddler, though the 'proper' term was violinist. By the age of sixteen Harry could play a large variety of different instruments and was all lined up to begin learning how to compose music. But that wasn't what he was about. He didn't like having to follow the notes so much, so how was he going to be able to write them? He wanted to perform. He wanted to provide the sounds for films and plays, not the notes. He had a row with his father over it, and was this close to actually leaving the house. Because Harry's father was very well-known, the fight had made it into papers and most everyone in classical music group knew what had happened. It was because of this that Harry was sulking in the car, every instrument he owned surrounding him, as Mr. Styles drove him to Mr. Louis Tomlinson's house. Louis was even more well known in the classical music world, mainly for his piano. He ran an academy for aspiring musicians, but because of Harry's father's influence, he was getting private lessons. He had to stay at his house for an entire summer, just to learn how to compose. The curly-haired boy thought that Louis would be very pretentious. Harry was extremely annoyed as he got out of the car, and only grabbed the violin from the car, not bothering to help his dad. He turned to the man standing outside of the impressive home with a scowl on his face. (You're Louis, don't be afraid to make him mean!)
Stranger: "You must be Mr. Styles," Louis drawled, his arms crossing over his chest as he sent a scrutinizing gaze over the young lad. Yes, he had heard what Harry was capable of. Was he impressed? Not in the slightest. He could probably do what Harry could in his sleep, on some very heavy sleep medication that he took in prevention towards his insomnia. "Well, get inside. We have a /very/ limited time to get you up to my standards." He insisted, nodding towards the large doors that lead into his ornate home. Sending a pleased smile towards the boy's father then--not for bringing the boy, of course, but for the large sum of money that came with him--he shook his head as he headed for the trunk. "Please, don't bother. I'll have someone out right away to gather those for you. Once again, thank you very much for bringing your son along. I'm sure you'll be very impressed with what he'll be capable of at the end of the summer."
You: Harry rolled his eyes and walked towards the doors without so much as a goodbye to his father. He held his violin tightly to his side, honestly a little nervous. He'd heard all about Louis' standards, how most children collapsed under Louis' instruction. But Harry wouldn't break. He was not going to compose; he wouldn't be forced to do something he was not at all good at. Harry's father, of course, just smiled and nodded a little bit. "Thank you very much for taking him in. I'm sure you'll get him writing in no time." Harry's father wasn't the talkative type, a trait Harry had inherited. If only he'd inherited his ability with writing notes; then they wouldn't be in this mess.
Stranger: "I'll do what I can," Louis insisted, a smug smile growing on his lips. Of course he'd have the child writing in no time; there was a reason parents sent their children to him. He was the best of the best, and parents who wanted the absolute best for their children would send them directly his way. After wishing Harry's father a safe drive and thanking him once more, he was headed inside as one of his house workers bustled outside to tend to Harry's luggage. "Come along," He muttered with the utmost nonchalance towards Harry, not looking towards the boy as he headed down the hallway, into one of the large music rooms he held sessions in. Taking a seat in a leather armchair, he nodded towards the boy's instrument. "Well, get that out, will you? Show me what you're capable of so I know what you're doing wrong."
You: Harry followed, looking around. High ceilings provided adequate acoustics at the best of times, but the way Louis' house was designed looked as though it would help the music soar. That seemed to be the only thing he liked. Anything that wasn't writing that could further Harry's music and his sound was a-okay in his book. The music room Louis brought him into wasn't too bad. The ceilings weren't as high but they were high enough. It would do. Once again he rolled his eyes, but didn't talk. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't talk unless absolutely necessary, just to rebel a little bit more. He bent down, unzipping his violin case and taking it out, resting it comfortably underneath his chin. He took a few moments to tune-by ear, as always- before starting to play the violin solo from Danse Macabre. He had had that memorized for as long as he could remember. Whenever he played, he got lost. It was like there was nothing but him and his instrument. He closed his eyes, tapping his foot as his elbow rose and bowed with as much passion as he could muster.
Stranger: If he were perfectly honest, Louis preferred when his students were compliant and silent. He didn't need to deal with some bratty, incompetent creature who thought they had enough talent to ignore his opinions. Oh, how they were wrong. There was yet to be a child that walked into his house that was at least half as well off as he was at their age. Watching with precise carefulness as Harry began to play, Louis found himself frowning within a few short moments of listening. "Stop." He called out, just loudly enough to be heard over the music. Not bothering to see if he'd pulled Harry from his music-immersed world that he was enveloped into while playing, he simply continued on. "I want you to find the sheet music for this piece, yes? It will be in the library, I'm positive. I don't want you relying on memory to play anymore. Tonight you're going to study the notes, /hear/ what each one sounds like, and what it does for the piece. I want to hear this again tomorrow, with your proper knowledge of the actual piece. Not what you know from that pretty little head of yours." He instructed, perking an eyebrow as though he dared for Harry to not understand his personalized instructions.
You: Harry stopped with a flourish, knowing enough about what he was playing to not let the strings nor the bow squeak when he stopped. He leveled his eyes with Louis' as he spoke, merely nodding although on the inside he was angry. He'd known Danse Macabre for /years/, there was absolutely no need to study the music anymore without permanently ingraining the image of the score onto the inside of his eyelids. He knew Louis was more talented than he was; in his father's eyes, every composer was more talented than any pathetic performer. He gave a small smirk when Louis called him pretty, giving another nod. He bent down to set his violin away, biting his lip just a little as he very, very carefully placed the equipment into it's case. Most musicians named their instruments, but Harry didn't. It made him feel as though it was a pet rather than an extension of his arm. "Where is the library?" He asked, and his voice was a bit raspier than normal due to not speaking for so long.
Stranger: "Upstairs," Louis instructed, rolling his eyes when he figured that the boy would need a bit more to go off of than that. "Go all the way down, it's the furthest door on the left." His gaze never left Harry as he spoke--continuously gathering the lad into a scrutinizing gaze, as though he simply didn't have the time or energy to deal with someone so much lesser than himself. If he had to admit anything, Harry had...potential, he supposed. He wasn't a complete train wreck, and with the correct guidance, he'd learn to navigate on the correct track. However, he was incredibly sloppy, and there was no doubt that his lack of studies got in the way of anything he was capable of. "Good," He commented as he watched how carefully Harry put his instrument away--he couldn't count the times that some ignorant child simply threw everything into the case before leaving. "Now, follow me, and I'll show you where you'll be staying." He said as he gathered himself from his armchair, wanting to discuss the strict rules of the house while he showed Harry where his temporary room was.
You: Harry nodded a little as he listened, a bit frustrated that he wasn't able to mentally trace the route because he hadn't seen everything just yet. He closed the case, pressed down the snaps, and zipped up the protective covering, very carefully lifting up the violin case by the handle and letting it rest at his side. He bit his lip a little bit, nodding slightly as he stepped out of the way of the door with his eyes lowered so Louis could leave first and guide him along. Being a composer's son did have some benefits, even if they were just knowing how to properly respect musicians and instructors and such. Although, Harry was having a hard time not hating his new teacher. He didn't look like one of those types, the ones that were always stuffy and forced their students to follow the music and nothing but the music. Harry didn't like it. He much more enjoyed playing from the heart, as cheesey as that sounded. Passion was what drove him, not a firm order.
Stranger: "So, I'm sure you're aware that there are a set of rules you'll be following while you reside here," Louis began after a moment of walking down the hallway at a brisk pace, not bothering to check if the boy was following after him--it would honestly be his loss, not Louis's. He knew the house like the back of his hand, though he knew it was confusing to the students when they first arrived. "You'll be in bed no later than ten o'clock every night. We get up early here, and if you're late to a lesson, I won't be bothered to allow you any extra time for practice. You'll be there right when I tell you, understand? As far as any sick puppy-love, I won't allow you to be hustling around with any girls while you're here. You're here to learn, not to distract yourself with the first pretty face you see." He stated, heading up the stairs as he spoke.
You: Harry followed, careful not to swing his violin as he walked. If it bumped into a wall or a stair rail, Harry would probably have a heart attack. No other violin suited him quite like this one. He'd had it from almost two or three years old. He nodded along with Louis' words, biting his lip slightly. He almost had more freedom here than at home. At home, he had to be in bed by nine every night, and he had to be up by no later than five thirty, running scales and drills from as many instruments as he could before he was even sort of allowed to break for breakfast. And then all the practicing continued, only breaking for lunch and dinner and bed just to do it all over again. Hell, maybe he could actually like it here. He couldn't hold back a quiet snicker, shaking his head. "You won't have to worry about girls with me." He couldn't help himself as he followed Louis up the stairs. "How early do you get up here, sir?" He wasn't sure what to call Louis. Some teachers didn't mind first names, some preferred Mr/Mrs whatever, a few even insisted upon Professor. But he could never go wrong with sir/ma'am. Showed respect.
Stranger: Louis cast an unamused gaze towards Harry when the boy snickered, not finding anything remotely funny. If one of his rules were broken, he wouldn't hesitate to send Harry right back where he came from, without a full payment back. He seemed to ease up a bit when Harry directed his question towards him respectfully--at least he was taught well by how to treat his mentors, for the most part. "Six at the latest," He answered then. Yes, he liked the accomplishment of successfully managing several things in one day, but he was no morning person, and he wasn't truly alive until after at least two cups of coffee. "I expect you to keep up with your studies, Mr. Styles. We have three months, and I won't permit you to laze a single day away with such short time." With that, Louis gripped the knob to one of the rooms, pushing it open to expose the comfortable yet ornate guest room. "Here were are. This will be your room while you're staying here."
You: "Yes, sir." Harry nodded, but he knew he'd probably still get up at five anyway. He was a creature of habit, which his father called laziness when he continued to mess up something that he considered so simple to correct. Sometimes he didn't correct it on purpose, just to annoy him, but he didn't think he could do that here. If he didn't at least make it through the summer, his father would flay him alive. He padded into the guest room with a little smile, almost not realizing he was doing it. This place had plenty of room for him to practice. Plenty of room for the rest of his instruments. Speaking of which... "When will the rest of my instruments be brought up, sir? I don't mind helping move them." He turned to face Louis, unable to disguise a little bit of worry in his eyes. Every musician was fearful of letting anyone but a more qualified musician touch their instrument, but in Harry that fear was magnified. Most people he knew viewed the instrument as simply that: an instrument. He viewed as an extension of his body. If it got hurt, he would hurt, and so on.
Stranger: Eyebrows raising, Louis seemed to then realize the lack of luggage in the room, eyes narrowing immediately after with annoyance. He had to admit, however, it was a bit more impressive than most that Harry hadn't only brought a single instrument to work with. Although, if he were truly planning on developing further with his musical ability and several instruments, Louis was concerned that they wouldn't have enough time to enhance that. He'd do the best that he could, of course, and that was usually enough to have some genius planted inside of a student's head. "I'll go check on that right now," He insisted with sudden empathy. A musician's instrument was nothing to be toyed around with--having them handled by anyone else left it uncomfortable and foreign, and that wasn't something any musician wanted to work with. Stepping out into the hallway, he called on the first worker he saw. "You," He called, never having gotten to a basis of names with those who worked below him. "Someone was instructed to bring Mr. Styles's luggage up nearly fifteen minutes ago. Go find them, and have everything brought up /immediately/. If I see a single scratch on anything, you're /both/ fired, am I clear?" He demanded coldly, receiving a quick nod from the man he was addressing before he scurried away.
You: Harry nodded, relieved that he heard some emotion from the instructor that wasn't disdain for Harry or that authoritative lilt in his voice. Louis' voice had the makings to be a good singer. Harry wondered if he ever did sing, but probably not. It was one of the many things most classical people frowned upon. They enjoyed the instrumental, not the vocal. At least, anyone Harry had ever encountered felt that way. He carefully set his violin on the bed, not too near either edge so there was no danger of it falling. While Louis' back was turned, he cast a curious glance out the window, and saw it had a balcony. He peered out even more and noticed that there was a little ledge attached to the roof near it. Harry suddenly grinned. Maybe he could play music outside.
Stranger: Although Louis had very little interest in staying around with Harry, he figured he at least needed to assure that the boy's luggage was safely brought up to his bedroom. "If they don't do what you ask them to within ten minutes, let me know, yes?" He said then, peering towards where Harry was by the glass door that lead out to the balcony. He had had problems in the past with workers not following what was asked of them, and he simply refused to have anyone working for him who wouldn't listen to his guests. Yes, they were only teenagers, for the most part, but they were still guests to his house, and he demanded that they be treated properly. "Don't be afraid to boss them around a bit. They won't listen to you any other way."
You: "Yes, sir." Harry nodded, although he was sure he wouldn't follow that rule. They were still people, after all. They shouldn't have to be bossed around so strictly, even if they were paid to follow orders. He would just be a bit lax with them while he could. He bit his lip slightly, glancing out the window again to note how beautiful the summer day was. Harry preferred rainy or cloudy days when he played music. So much of the music he enjoyed was minor or morbid, so to play something like that on a sunny day was almost ludicrous. If he was ever forced to compose it would be in a minor key. A few moments after he thought that, Harry heard the sounds of footsteps, and next second the workers were coming with his instruments. He rushed to help them, taking the bigger instruments first and setting them away. They weren't the most expensive, but they were certainly some of the easiest to damage.
Stranger: Louis surveyed silently as Harry immediately helped with the instruments. He was passionate, it was evident, and something Louis wasn't about to deny. However, no great musician could simply go off of passion alone. There were rules to abide by, and endless literature to study before anyone could be considered to have mastered anything. "That will be all," He said to the two workers that had carried Harry's luggage inside, watching briefly as they nodded silently before heading quickly out of the room. Turning back towards Harry, he studied the boy's inspections, finding no distress within him and deciding that he didn't need to yell at anyone for messing something up just yet. "Right. Well, dinner will be in about an hour. You'll be on time, or you'll have to wait until breakfast to eat next." Louis stated, beginning to head for the door before pausing and turning. "Oh, and there will be another student arriving this week. I want nothing but respect between the two of you, and absolutely no mingling about inappropriately. Understood?"
You: Harry set up the instruments very, very carefully. He had so many in there it was almost ridiculous, but his father said he was pretty good at them all. (Pretty good, for his father, was one of the highest praises.) But he thought he had a decent little space for them all and turned to look at Louis as he listened, nodding slightly. He checked the clock on the wall: 7:30. He'd probably spend that extra time in the library, re-fucking-learning a piece he'd known for so long. But he just nodded and kept his mouth shut. He bowed his head solemnly at Louis' last words, trying to hide a smirk. "If it's a girl you need not worry, sir." He replied, turning to get his violin again. When Louis left, Harry remembered his instructions and padded along towards the library. He got out the proper music and, rolling his eyes, began to play with the door shut. He didn't really like to show off his playing unless he absolutely had to.
Stranger: (Sorry to cut this short, I'm really enjoying writing this. I was wondering if you possibly had a kik or a tumblr or anything we could continue on? If not, that's perfectly fine!)
You: (Yeah, I have kik. sigh101 :) )
Stranger: (Great, would you mind continuing on there? :) )
You: (No, I wouldn't mind :))
Stranger: (Perfect, I'll send you a message, then. :) )
You: (Alright :))
Stranger has disconnected.