Chapter Text
Leo rarely wished for silence. His inspiration came to him as the melodies created by the world around him reached his ears, and he turned those into the genius compositions he was known for. Silence would mean a lack of music in the air, a lack of inspiration.
Yet, he wanted to scream, cry, rip his ears out, anything to stop the cacophony of boos and jeers echoing in his mind.
The sheet sat blank in his hands, scrunched up where his fingers gripped it tightly enough to rip it. He could turn those noises into something on paper, but Leo Tsukinaga was not about to leave a shred of evidence that he created anything other than masterpieces, which this most definitely was not.
He choked out a sob. Why couldn’t he drown it out? He was useless if he couldn’t compose.
He dropped the paper on his desk and pulled his hand to his mouth, biting down hard. If he could silence the thoughts with his own pain, then maybe…
The taste of iron reached his tongue and…
Ah, inspiration… where have you been?
He clamped down harder, making sure the sting was all-consuming in his mind, as he reached for the pen…