Work Text:
“Déjà vu: an illusory feeling of having previously experienced a present situation; a form of paramnesia.” Elliot read in the dictionary, lying on his bed. That’s what his friend Oz had called this weird feeling Elliot had experienced today. He’d been trying to make sense of it all, of what happened a few hours before, but felt like a lifetime ago. But let’s rewind, to the beginning of the day.
Elliot Nightray, a music major in college, had a good life. Interesting studies, a good life-plan, a decent roommate (though he’d never admit it out loud to him, Oz’s ego would never come down again). It was all ordered, and it was good.
Except for this stupid assignment. What kind of stupid school gives assignments over winter break, anyway?! “The college kind, Elliot”, Oz had said to him after his millionth complaint of the day. Usually, he would go home to his family during the break, to celebrate Christmas with his family. But this year, he had so much work to do for school, he decided to stay in his dorm. Thankfully, he wasn’t alone, Oz was staying as well. Not that the Vessalius complained, he never liked staying with his family anyway.
So. This assignment. The worse is, it shouldn’t even be this hard. “Compose a piece on the instrument of your choice that reminds you of good memories”. Elliot loved composing, he really did. He knew how to do it, had always known how to bring a part from himself into his music. But usually, it was because he chose to do it, to create. Having to compose as an assignment… turned out to be harder. He’d done fine over the semester, but it was always short melodies. Now, as it was the end of the term, it was a full piece.
And Elliot was completely, utterly, stuck. Not that he didn’t have any good memories, of course not, he had plenty. But… none of it really fit for this. He thought about doing something related to Christmas, it was always a good time, after all. But no. No matter how long he sat in front of his electric piano (he’d have preferred an upright piano, but an electric one was way easier to have in his dorm room. Besides, he could connect earphones to play at night without waking Oz up), no music came. He tried scribbling a few random notes on his sheet to spur inspiration, but that failed as well.
He felt stupid. He’d been playing piano since he was 5. He shouldn’t be stuck. He groaned and banged his head on the keys. “Ah yes, the chaotic mess of all the notes played at the same time, very representative of a Christmas family dinner, Mr. Nightray” Oz said from his bed (he had got the top one of the bunk, Elliot had given it to him after agreeing that Oz was so short, he deserved to have some height at least at night. Oz had thrown a pillow at him), imitating the high-pitched voice of their music teacher. Elliot’s continual groaning was his only response. Oz, who already had half his piece written down, suggested something interesting. “When I’m stuck, I go to the college library and read beginner composition books. You might want to try that, since obviously your grumpy ass is too moody to find one good memory”.
Elliot’s first instinct was to protest, but it actually sounded like a decent idea. It’s not as if his retrospective introspection had provided any help, anyway. He was out of ideas, and slowly getting desperate, so why not give it a shot?
The college library was huge, to say the least. Thankfully it was quite empty, seeing as most students had gone back to their family. A small reprieve for the building, which would soon become the nest of caffeinated, stressed students, when the January exam session would start.
Elliot headed toward the music section of the library. He got lost in his thoughts as he searched for the beginner composition books. So lost, that he didn’t notice the other person putting a hand on “Composition 101” at the same time as he. Neither did the guy, apparently. When their hands collided, Elliot turned his head to meet purple eyes. In this fraction of a second, there were exactly four thoughts that formed into his head, into no special order:
- How is it possible to have eyes as purple as that?
- How even was this guy reading a book as he walked?
- Why does my hand feel electro-shocked when there was no shock?
- I know him.
He didn’t know how or why, but he had the distinct feeling of knowing this guy. For an instant, as he saw his furrowed brows, he thought the guy might have this feeling as well. The silence stretched as they looked at each other. Then the guy asked “um, you really need this book?”
“Kinda? Not really. Well- yes. But not that much?” shit, he was making a fool of himself. The guy now looked at him like he was stupid. He took pity on Elliot and said “you know what, it’s okay you can have it…”
“No! I mean, I have troubles with an assignment, and I thought this book might help. I don’t need it, I know how to compose” yay, he was rambling now. God help him. They still both had their hand on the book.
They Guy (he should ask him his name. “Guy” is starting to get repetitive) raised an eyebrow, obviously confused. “Well, I’d have liked to spend my Christmas break being productive. I play but never composed. Thought I’d give it a try” he spoke in a weird way, like he wasn’t used to have conversations. Elliot surprised himself when he asked “you play? Which instrument?”. It wasn’t like him to keep talking to strangers. But there was something about this guy. His gut told him so. Talking about music with this random person…. It felt strange. Similar. He couldn’t explain it.
He seemed wary. But after a moment, he admitted, “piano”. He readjusted the pile of books in his hands. “What kind of assignments make you compose? Oh wait, you’re a music major, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. But I’m stuck. Which is weird, since I’m never stuck with music composing”.
They both studied each other. They still had a hand on the book. Neither seemed to know what to say.
“So”, Elliot said.
“So”.
“Um. Appears we both need it”. He checked the surrounding books, hoping to find a copy or another composition manual. Luck wasn’t with him today, because there were none.
Suddenly, he got an idea. A crazy one. Well, crazy coming from him. “I’ve got an idea. It might seem weird. But like- there’s a piano for anyone to use on the third floor. How about… we go there, I take the book, get the help I need from it, and l could teach you the basics. If you want. I don’t know” God, he was rambling again. The stranger eyed him again. Elliot took a look on the three books he was carrying. There were Chopin music sheets, an encyclopedia on insects, and some fiction about a Holy Knight. He’d never heard of the title, but somehow the cover seemed enticing. Perhaps he’d check it out later.
“Um…” the guy thought about it. Elliot searched his memories, because he was sure he’d seen those eyes before. But at the same time, search his memories was his main activity since he started this hellish assignment, and so he knew for sure that he’d never met him. Yet…
“Okay. That is weird but why not. It’s not as if I had anything else to do after all”, he said. “What’s your name?”, he added, a beat later.
“Elliot. You?”
He frowned. “…Leo”.
That ringed a bell. He never met a Leo. Then how? It didn’t make any sense. “Can I ask you a weird question?”
“Since this conversation has already reached critical weirdness levels, shoot”.
“Okay. It’s gonna sound... I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before”.
“That’s not a question, Elliot”. God, he felt embarrassed enough without this comment. “You know what I m-“
“Yeah. Me too. Shall we go to the music room?”
“Um, yeah. Let’s go”
And while they played later that day, the start of a melody formed into his head. It had an old aspect, and maybe it didn’t fit completely with the “happy memory”. More like… bittersweet. But that’s the melody Elliot went with. A name came out of nowhere, sprung from his imagination unasked for. He kept playing with Leo, but scribbled it quickly on a sheet of paper.
“Lacie”.