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All of you are invited to the concert being held at the Monad Charity House.
We pray for the successful opening of the exhibition.
Children sponsored by the Monad Charity House have a message of love and hope for all of you!
Don't miss this chance to listen to the most innocent performance in all of Krat.
Carlo wrinkled his nose in disgust at the flyer in his hands. He had a strong urge to crumple it up out of frustration, and for a brief moment, he managed to find the self-control to resist his impulsivity. It was quickly lost though, as he eventually gave into his rage and crushed the paper into a tight ball, throwing it angrily across the room. It bounced off the wall with a meager thud, where it landed in front of the doorway of his dorm at the Monad Charity House. Despite the flyer mentioning a so-called message of "love and hope" (he loathed even having to read these words), that couldn't have been farther from how Carlo felt. He felt grief. Annoyance. Jealousy. Resentment.
To celebrate the opening of the Grand Exhibition, the boarding school that Carlo attended had decided to host a concert. Based on the aptitude and career paths that the students were receiving education for, they were assigned different roles in preparation for this event: The stalkers were asked to provide the instrumental accompaniment, while the workshop technicians and alchemists formed the choir. This meant that on top of his regular studies, he was receiving an extra hour of piano lessons after class every day, and then any subsequent practice would be up to his discretion. Unsurprisingly, the amount of extra practice that he had done up to this point was precisely zero. He just couldn't bring himself to do it.
Deep down, Carlo didn't truly mind learning how to play the piano and performing for people. He admitted that sometimes the lessons were interesting. Playing an instrument kept his hands busy. The problem wasn't any of that. It was purpose of the concert that soured his experience — the Grand Exhibition was supposed to be a celebration of Krat's technological achievements, a showcase of the city's finest minds. But what was there to celebrate when it was that very pursuit of innovation that led to Geppetto abandoning him at the Monad Charity House in the first place? He felt sick just thinking about it. The Exhibition would probably feature so many of his father's works, and everyone would be cheering, praising him for his genius as they admired his puppets with awe. There would also be children, their shrill laughs permeating through the fair as they played and spent time with their families, something he so desperately wished to experience just once. Instead, Carlo would be forgotten, left behind to rot, just as he always had. Though it had been years since Geppetto discarded him at the boarding school like he meant nothing to him, those wounds never healed. If anything, his bitterness only grew with time.
With a quiet sob, this was a sensitive topic that often brought Carlo to the verge of tears. His throat felt tight, and his head felt hot. He was so used to always bottling up his emotions that they were bound to spill out at some point. Still, even in the privacy of own room with no one to judge him, he felt pathetic. Weak. Maybe this is why Geppetto didn't want him. Who would want a useless son like him? He was about to wipe his face with his sleeve, when he suddenly heard the doorknob turn. He froze in place, feeling a momentary twinge of panic as he immediately tried to regain his composure and pretend everything was normal. He was doing a bad job at it.
As the door opened, the lithe figure of a blond bent down and picked up the crumpled flyer that Carlo had previously thrown. Unraveling it to decipher the contents, Romeo was the last person that Carlo could try and put up a front with. He knew him too well. Acquiescing, his shoulders slumped in defeat and he glanced over at his roommate with a shaky sigh, rubbing his eyes wearily.
"Hey, Romeo…I um," he stopped to clear his throat, "didn't think you'd be back from practice so soon…"
Ever the pillar of strength when Carlo needed it the most, Romeo pulled up a seat on a wooden stool next to him, his free hand already making his way to his back to offer a comforting pat.
"What can I say? I sensed you needed me, so naturally I had to come running back." Romeo started to jest, but when he saw that Carlo only looked annoyed with his attempt, he raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop." Switching to a more serious tone, he looked down at the crinkled paper that he was still holding with a bit of a somber expression on his face.
"Well, I actually wanted to talk to you about something…I've been worried about you," he admitted with a sigh, "you haven't been coming to any of the practices, and the concert is coming up so soon. And obviously, there's the whole thing with the exhibition itself and your father — which, we don't have to talk about if you don't want to — , so I just-"
"I don't think I can do it, Romeo," the brunet interjected, "I suck."
Romeo furrowed his brows, frowning. He didn't like to hear his friend talk poorly about himself.
"Aw, come on, don't say that. That's not true. I'm sure you could be really good, you just need practice. I've seen you during lessons."
Carlo didn't look as certain.
"I don't know. Sometimes it feels like I have two left hands. How am I supposed to be ready in time? Even if I start now, that's," he paused, calculating the dates in his head and counting on his fingers, "only seven days."
"That's plenty of time! Trust me, Carlo. I know you're really talented and a fast learner. You can do this. I'll even teach you!"
Carlo stared at his roommate nervously. He never thought to ask anyone for help. He never expected anyone to offer either, but Romeo sounded so earnest. His blond hair suddenly looked a lot like a golden halo, like he was some otherworldly angel extending a hand to rescue him from a perilous situation.
"R-Really? You don't have to do that for me… I mean, won't it be boring for you?"
"Of course not, silly. How can it be boring when I'm spending time with my best friend? I'll see you tomorrow after class!"
Romeo had such a bright smile on his face that Carlo couldn't help but smile a little bit too. Whatever worries were plaguing his mind earlier didn't seem so significant anymore.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
On the first day, Carlo felt anxious, but he suspected the hardest part was willing himself to come to the practice room. He had gotten so used to a reclusive schedule where he would hide away in his room after classes that it felt foreign to be here, but he also didn't want to waste Romeo's time. The blond was already sitting on the piano bench and eagerly patted the empty space beside him. He shuffled some of the music sheets around in a feeble attempt to organize the chaotic pile before turning to Carlo.
"So, what are you struggling the most with?" He asked.
"Umm…The etude, I think."
Romeo took out the corresponding score, showing it to Carlo. It looked like it was written in a completely foreign language, leaving him dumbfounded as he stared at the notes in confusion. Romeo laughed.
"Looks like we have a lot to cover today."
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
On the second day, Carlo made a conscious effort to not embarrass himself in front of Romeo again. In fact, he was so determined that he spent his lunch break reviewing notes from the day before. He even snuck in some studying under his desk during his regular classes. By the time they met up for their daily practice session, he was feeling a lot more confident. He was finally able to put his fingers to the keys, at least.
"You're doing great!" Romeo praised, clapping his hands to help him on beat. The compliment replayed in his head even long after their practice had ended.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
On the third day, Carlo thought they had been making good progress up to this point, but felt like he was taking one step forward and two steps back. Inevitably, for any piece with a reasonable amount of complexity, some sections were going to be easier and some would be harder. Carlo didn't expect to learn this without effort, but he didn't anticipate it being this tricky either. He sighed in mild frustration after messing up a section multiple times in a row.
"Hey, don't give up just yet. You almost had it. Here, watch me do it."
Romeo demonstrated the complicated passage flawlessly, but as Carlo was about to reach out and try it for himself, their hands touched briefly. He paused in his tracks, feeling a light blush creep up on his cheeks. Did…Did Romeo notice? Should he apologize? Should he pretend that nothing happened and just keep going? Was he overthinking this? Should he-
"Stay focused, you tomato!" He teased with a playful smirk, completely derailing any coherent thought that Carlo had.
It only made him even redder.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
On the fourth day, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Carlo to focus, especially with what happened previously. Being in such a small room and sitting so closely together didn't help either, as it didn't exactly give him much to distract himself with. Carlo kept making mistakes, and Romeo would patiently show him how to play the sections correctly. Sometimes, he would show him by holding his hands, guiding his fingers to the correct keys with a tenderness that he had never felt from anybody before. Sometimes, he would even rest his entire hand atop his as he played. Suddenly, Carlo found himself making even more mistakes than ever. Romeo was more than happy to oblige every time.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
On the fifth day, Carlo couldn't keep going anymore. For his own sanity, he absolutely had to seek some kind of closure for the emotions that he had been feeling. His head was spinning, and he couldn't concentrate at all, even outside of these practice sessions. He caught himself daydreaming earlier during class, humming the same music. In the middle of playing, Carlo abruptly stopped and turned to face his companion, hands clenched tightly in nervous fists. He had been holding this in for so long that he felt like he was about to explode if he didn't say what he was about say.
"Romeo, I…I think I like you!" He blurted out loud, quickly turning away the second the words left his mouth to hide his face in embarrassment. He supposed it felt relieving to finally get it out of his system, but now he just felt dread, fully bracing himself to hear a rejection. Instead, all he heard was a laugh. Not a mocking one, but a delighted one.
"Carlo, look at me."
The brunet felt a gentle hand on his chin tilt his head. When the two made eye contact, Romeo moved to place his hands lovingly on either side of his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks.
"Do really think I'm that oblivious to how you've been acting all week? After how long we've known each other?" He asked in a soft voice, moving to press his forehead against the other's. Carlo was still too flustered to say anything. His heart was racing at a million miles per hour.
"I like you too, Carlo. And I knew that you felt something for me, but I just wanted to wait until you said something first. Otherwise, I would miss out on seeing you act all shy admitting it."
Pouting, Carlo pulled back and playfully smacked Romeo's arm, who only laughed even harder.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
On the sixth day, they kissed. It was inexperienced and chaste, but nonetheless genuine. Music sheets scattered around them as they clumsily, yet eagerly, explored this new side of their relationship.
And by the final day, they barely played any piano at all.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Presently, P stood in front of the grand piano in the ruins of Hotel Krat. He couldn't help but feel a bittersweet sadness as he glanced down at the instrument. He could see his reflection on each of the polished ebony keys, though he did not recognize who he saw. They were like a thousand pairs of strange eyes staring back at him in anticipation for something, a restless audience waiting for a finale. P's gaze shifted to a tattered green book that rested on the lid of the piano, pages worn and withered, but nevertheless eager for someone to read its story.
The city of Krat decided to put an indefinite stop to the investigation on the disaster that took place in the Monad Charity House, known as the Rose Estate. This was to prevent chaos caused by the large-scale spreading of the Petrification Disease. There have been no confirmed survivors so far.
In the end, the Monad Charity House concert never took place. Despite the apprehension he felt towards the event then, now, he felt a sense of yearning. He mourned for something that did not even happen, would not ever happen. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But perhaps it wasn't too late for P —no, Carlo,— to finally finish his performance. If not for himself, for his memories of a cherished friend, an innocent love, but one whose details were lost to time.
And so he played that perfect tune, the same one as he had heard so many years ago.