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Johann’s alarm buzzes under his pillow and startles him awake from a dream he can't remember, just the feeling, a sadness that weighed too heavy in his bones, that left his fingers trembling as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stumbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Looking his reflection in the mirror and the quiet frown that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Nobody visits my grave anymore,” he says sadly to his reflection, pushing the thought that had been lingering in his head out into the open air.
It doesn't occur to him until he's gargle rinsing toothpaste that he's not even dead, and he doesn't have a grave. Somehow, the realization only weighs heavier in his heart.
At lunch, he picks at meatloaf with a plastic fork, sitting across from Avi who was chatting about the new guys, specifically Magnus, and how cool the guy is, how he smiles with all his teeth and Johann, have you met him yet?
“Huh?”
“Magnus! Have you met Magnus yet? He's hard to miss, the guys basically an oak tree with sideburns.” Avi looks a little offended that Johann hadn't been listening, but his offense softens, laying a hand across the table. “... Is something bugging you?”
“I.. it's stupid, you know? I don't want to bother you with it, sorry.” Johann picks up a forkful of meatloaf. Regards it closely. Puts it back down. “So, Magnus huh?” He tries to change the subject, but Avi’s piercing gaze is enough evidence he's not letting this go until he talks about it.
Johann sighs. “I woke up feeling like shit, because nobody visits my grave anymore, and it's stupid because I don't HAVE a grave, and I guess I can't stop thinking about it.” He finally shoves a bite of meatloaf into his mouth, casting his gaze elsewhere.
“Oh.” Avi replies, voice a little quiet, furrowing his eyebrows and pulling his hand back when it became obvious Johann wasn't going to seek any comfort contact. “Well hey, you're definitely not about to die here! You're young, you're healthy, you're a bard for The Gods sake, you're not about to be thrust into the heat of battle! The only danger you have of dying is if the Voidfish suddenly decided to eat you, haha.” he laughs, trying to lift Johann's spirits some.
Johann's laughter is quiet, and while he manages a little smile, it doesn't reach his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, you're right. Thanks Avi. I'm sure it doesn't even mean anything. And I'm at least thirty percent sure the Voidfish isn't about to swallow me, I'm the only guy who hangs out and feeds him.”
“Hah! Yeah. So don't worry about it, yeah? I gotta get back to my station, but I'll see you back at my dorm?” Avi asks as he stands up, gathering his trash up on his tray. “its movie night, remember?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I'll be there!” Johann manages a more genuine smile this time, waving goodbye.
“8 'o clock sharp! Don't be late or I'll start The Thing without you!” Avi walks backwards towards the tray return, pointing at Johann as he goes and bumping into a table as he goes, prompting him to turn around and walk properly.
Johann spends the rest of his lunch barely picking at his food, trying to push the mornings heavy emotions aside.
He has very little success, so he dumps a near full lunch that had been picked apart and pushed around until it was mush into the trash, and heads to the room he spent a great number of his days. The voidfish floats lazily in the center of the room, pulsing a slow cycle of shifting colors in his tank, tendrils waving in such a way that Johann thinks is carefree.
“Hey, big guy,” he says as he approaches, laying his hand flat on the tank, and then his forehead, feeling the cool glass against his skin, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. There's no feeding his own memories to forget them himself to his friend, but that didn't stop him from writing down some less savory times in his life and tossing it to the Voidfish anyways. For the sake of those he knew planetside, before coming to work here. Ease the emotional burdens on their minds.
He picks up his Violin, tuning it up with deft ease, and plays the first few notes from the piece he'd been working on lately, leading into the rest of it, until he ran out of solidified material and his hands grew less certain, bow hesitating instead of gliding. Where to go from here…
There's a desk and chair here, tucked into the corner, so that Johann could work in here, playing music in the very same place that it would only ever be heard, the works in progress occasionally stalling passers-by as they went about their day. Johann moves over to his desk, spreading half finished sheet music out, and plays the last few measures again, trying to move past the place where the black ink blots disappear, and each time hitting a wall that twisted his stomach into knots.
Time slips away, water in his hands, running through his musical piece once more with two new measures added at the end, but not before he'd added nearly an entire page at once and scrapped the whole thing because the emotion just wasn't what he wanted.
As he reaches the end again, and stops, he’s startled by enthusiastic clapping from a lone source, whirling around to look at the source.
“It's sounding great so far, Johann!” The Orc compliments as he approaches, crisp blue shirt and nametag identifying him, as if the entire Moon Base wasn't aware of who Brad Bradson was. To a good number of them, he was practically a father figure, and Johann didn't think himself an exception to this.
“Have you taken a break recently, Maestro?” Brad asks, folding his arms as Johann set his instrument down on top of his musical scores.
“Sure, I stopped for lunch, I guess,” Johann shrugs. 'nobody visits my grave anymore’ echoes unhelpfully in the middle of his thoughts now that he's not focused on his musical score again.
“Lunch? That was four hours ago, bud, it's..” he checks the watch on his wrist briefly. “It's 7:30, you should really consider packing it in for today, get some rest and try this again tomorrow with a fresh brain!” Brad pats Johann on the back, hard enough that Johann stumbles forward a step.
The violinist presses his face into his hands with a groan, “You're right, but, I don't..” he starts, stops, frowns. “I don't want to leave myself to my thoughts tonight,” he finally says, face scrunching up behind his fingers.
Brad's voice softens, the hand on his back lingering to rub a circle between his shoulder blades. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“No!” The answer immediately bursts from his mouth, followed by silence, and a quieter, “Yes.”
They end up together in Fantasy Starbucks, Brad drinking something decaf to offset the lateness of the drink despite the way the flavor made him crinkle his nose and flick his ears, and Johann sipping on an eggnog steamer, finding comfort in the warm drink.
Brad is patient, waiting until Johann wants to speak, humming a few bars of one of Johann’s previous pieces in between sips of coffee. A beautiful piece that had moved the bureau to tears the first time they'd all heard it.
“I.. I'm afraid that when I die, nobody is going to miss me, or.. visit me. At my grave. And it sucks, because before the Bureau, before you, I didn't give a shit. Actually, it was kind of.. ideal scenario. If I died, my music would've become extremely famous, it's the bardic curse, I'm sure you know it.” Brad nods solemnly.
“But.. this morning I woke up, and all I could think about, all I could think about all day, was 'Nobody visits my grave anymore’, and it just, I don't know, it got to me, I guess,” Johann rambles, speaking everything that had been weighing on his mind, not stopping to wipe his eyes even when they began to tear up. Holding his drink in both hands to keep his fingers from trembling.
“and I know if I die we have to feed my name to the Voidfish, and there goes Johann, you know? Except nobody will even remember the music I've written, and nobody will come visit my grave because they won't even remember ME!” He finishes with a quiet snuffle, blinking bleary eyed into his drink, not flinching when he heard the chair scoot, felt a strong arm loop around his shoulders and pull him in for a firm side hug, getting a noseful of cologne. Spices, and soap.
“Johann,” Brad says in a quiet voice, “If you die, I'm going to make sure I visit your grave every single day. And I'll bring your friends with me, and flowers, and I'll miss you, and your beautiful music, every single gods damn day I still draw breath, mark my words.”
There's a quiet hiccup against Brad's chest, and the violinist moves to fit a bit more comfortably into the embrace, face pressed into the Orc's chest for a good long while. Solace and comfort.
Johann arrives for movie night at 8:39, Avi decks him with a pillow.