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Xingqiu's fingers tremble with equal parts fatigue and frustration as he drags the bow across the strings, wincing at the shrill screech it produces. It takes everything in him not to hurl the accursed violin into the nearest wall.
He's been at this for hours now, hiding away in this empty room long after classes have ended. The sun has just begun to set, and his arms shake from hours of exertion. He continues to practice anyway, repeating those same few measures over and over in a seemingly endless cycle of failure.
"Stupid, useless thing..." he mumbles to himself, glaring daggers at the instrument as if it had personally attacked him. Which, in a way, it had. Every discordant sound is a painful reminder of his lack of musical talent.
He could have been home by now, sitting on his favorite bean bag with a brand new novel open in his lap, spending the last few hours of the day relaxing after such an exhausting week. Or making progress on the newest chapter of the story he's writing. Or doing something, anything else, other than wasting the day away trying to cure an incurable disease.
Yet here he is, choosing to torture himself in the one of the stupidest ways imaginable.
A frustrated groan leaves his lips as he readies himself again, placing his chin against the rest.
"A well-rounded individual," his father had proclaimed on his seventh birthday, chest puffed out with paternal pride as he presented a then pint-sized Xingqiu with his very first violin. "That is what you shall become."
'Well-rounded'... whatever that's supposed to mean.
Xingqiu's academic achievements outpace every other student in his year. He's been practicing martial arts for the past five years. Hell, he's written entire books before! But no, apparently none of those achievements are enough to make a 'well rounded' individual. He just has to be a virtuoso as well.
Yet another wrong note comes from the instrument as he drags the bow across the strings. The positioning is all wrong — his ring finger is up far too high for that note — but at this point he can't be bothered to fix it. Not after all the hours spent attempting, and failing, to learn to play the damned thing.
He knows where his fingers are supposed to rest on the neck, just like he knows how much pressure he's supposed to put on the string with the bow in order to make it produce a crisp sound. It's not his teachers shortcomings leading to his lack of skill, but the god forsaken notes themselves.
Xingqiu has come to accept that he has no musical talent of any kind. It's just a fact of life: the sky is blue, the sun is hot, and Xingqiu is absolutely tone deaf.
But his father refuses to acknowledge such an indisputable fact. Because in his eyes, failure to master this arbitrary skill is nothing less than a felony. If the family patriarch deems something a necessity, then even the gods themselves will bend over backwards to see his will fulfilled.
Lost in the throes of his misery, Xingqiu fails to notice the creaking of the door opening behind him. It isn't until he turns to grab the sheet music splayed haphazardly on the table that he sees it, a familiar figure standing in the open doorway. Icy blue eyes stare back at him, wide with awe and wonder.
"C-chongyun!?"
Chongyun, for his part, seems equally as taken back by Xingqiu's reaction. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture as he shuffles the rest of the way through the door, pulling it closed behind him with a soft click.
"Ah... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."
"H-how long have you been standing there!?" Xingqiu feels heat rushing to his cheeks. Of all the people to catch him like this, it had to be his closest friend — the one whose opinion he values above all others.
"Um... A few minutes, maybe?" Chongyun says with a shrug, as if his words haven't stabbed Xingqiu in his very fragile ego. "I was looking for you. We were supposed to meet up after class, remember?"
Oh. Right...
In the midst of his plight, Xingqiu had completely forgotten about their plans for this afternoon. A pang of guilt mixes with the embarrassment already churning in his gut. How long had Chongyun been waiting for him?
"I had no idea you played the violin," Chongyun says, and Xingqiu is suddenly hyper aware that Chongyun has moved from his position by the door. He's perched himself on table, leaning in to get a better look at the instrument cradled in Xingqiu's trembling hands with open curiosity. "Is it fun?"
Fun? Is it fun?
HAH! If only he knew. If only he could hear the horrors that spill from those strings.
Xingqiu's silence does not go unnoticed by Chongyun, who looks over at him with a small, worried frown. It's that look that does him in, and Xingqiu spills his guts like a broken dam, his pride be damned.
"Are you..." he pauses, not sure how to phrase what he wants to say. "You're not... mad?"
Chongyun cocks his head at that. "Mad? About what?"
"That I hid this from you?" Xingqiu shifts his gaze downwards, unable to face Chongyun as he speaks. "That I kept you waiting for me after class? Or just... this whole situation in general? About having lied to you. You're really not upset with me?"
His gaze remains stubbornly downcast, looking anywhere but on the boy sitting in front of him as shame wars with the desperate need for reassurance. Xingqiu has never been able to handle disappointing people, and with Chongyun... well, that line was always a little more blurry than with others.
Chongyun, however, is having none of that. Quicker than Xingqiu can react, Chongyun hops off the table and closes the distance between them, reaching out to gently cup Xingqiu's cheek. The touch is enough to finally make him look up, and— oh, Xingqiu didn't realize just how close they had gotten until now. He can see every detail in Chongyun's eyes so clearly like this, the way his eyebrows furrow slightly in concern, the softness of his lips...
Wait, what?
No! Xingqiu shakes his head in a frantic denial of that trail of thought before it can fully take shape. Bad Xingqiu! Now is not the time! NEVER is the time!
"You have your reasons for keeping this hidden from me, I'm sure," Chongyun says, rubbing his thumb against Xingqiu's cheek. His tone is gentle and patient, just like he always is when putting up with Xingqiu's bullshit. "I trust you'll share them with me when you're ready."
The sincerity in Chongyun's eyes is like a ray of sunlight piercing through thick grey clouds. Xingqiu feels himself smiling in return before he can think to stop it.
"...Which is hopefully now?"
It takes a moment for the words to fully register in Xingqiu's mind. But the second they do, he yanks himself backwards so violently he nearly drops his violin — a very expensive violin, mind you. Thankfully his quick reflexes allow him to catch it before it hits the ground.
"Chongyun!"
"Please? I want to hear you play!" The boy actually has the audacity to pout at him, all kicked-puppy eyes and trembling lower lip that's... that's...
...absolutely adorable, a traitorous voice whispers in the back of his mind. He very pointedly ignores it. He'll be sure to have a stern talking to with Chongyun about appropriate usage of those lethal weapons Xingqiu himself had so foolishly taught him to wield.
"You get to watch me perform with my band when we practice," Chongyun points out, ever the logical one. "Can you play something for me too? Please?"
Xingqiu feels his resolve waver beneath the full force of those imploring baby blues. Is this what being on the receiving end of manipulation feels like? Oh gods...
"I wouldn't exactly call what I was doing 'playing'..." he mumbles, taking a half step backwards. A futile attempt at putting some much-needed distance between them, as Chongyun merely shuffles closer in response, stubborn determination written all over his face as he crowds back into Xingqiu's personal space.
"Are you kidding?? You were..." Chongyun pauses, clearly searching for the right phrasing. "...off-key, but—"
Xingqiu can't help but snort at that, earning a whine from Chongyun.
"That's not what I meant!" Chongyun quickly backtracks, waving his hands in a placating gesture as his cheeks flush a pretty pink. Xingqiu finds that it suits him. "I just... hmm..."
He squeezes his eyes shut, fingers flexing in those movements he unconsciously makes when deep in thought. It's a mannerism Xingqiu has watched play out a thousand times over the years, yet it never fails to make his heart do funny little flips in his chest.
Soon his hands still, and he's reaching up to grab one of Xingqiu's wrists in a gentle, but insistent, grip.
"It's bad. Objectively bad," Chongyun finally says with a sheepish look. "But... I still liked it."
The words hit like a punch to the gut, stealing what little breath Xingqiu had left from his lungs. He hates how fragile his voice sounds when he finally finds it again.
"You did?"
"It reminds me of your singing," Chongyun continues, the blush on his cheeks deepening in color. "You're awful at it, and sometimes I hate it because it gives me a headache. But... it makes me happy when you do it."
It reminds me of your...
Oh. oh. That's... that's really, really sappy. Unbearably sappy and disgustingly sweet in a way only Chongyun could pull off without it feeling fake. They both know his singing voice isn't anything to be proud of. He couldn't carry a tune if it had handles.
Then why does the sentiment behind those words make him feel so... loved?
The last of Xingqiu's resolve crumbles as a small, rueful smile creeps onto his face. He really can't deny this man anything, can he?
"You're ridiculous."
"Huh?" Chongyun blinks, all wide-eyed confusion in a way that shouldn't be nearly as endearing as it is. "Why?"
"Nevermind that," Xingqiu waves him off, using his free hand to gently bat Chongyun's away so he can put some distance between them. "Just this once, I'll indulge you."
A brilliant smile lights up Chongyun's face as Xingqiu looks through the sheet music on the table. It's an expression so disarmingly bright that it seems to fill the empty room with its own sunlit glow. His audience stills, falling into complete silence in anticipation of the upcoming performance.
Honestly, how can anyone say Chongyun doesn't show any emotion? Sometimes it seems like the boy is downright allergic to subtlety.
Silently, reverently, Chongyun hops back onto the table, back straight and eyes shining with rapt attention — the perfect picture of a captive audience as Xingqiu lifts the violin into place and readies his bow.
The first few exploratory notes are more a squeak than true music as Xingqiu quickly adjusts his finger positioning. He tries again, a little louder this time, even if the wobbly notes leave much to be desired. Two particularly sour notes punctuate the end, sticking out like a sore thumb.
The piece itself is nothing special. It's a song he learned from one of his very first lessons. Simplistic, predictable, and about as complex as a children's nursery rhyme. Yet that doesn't seem to bother Chongyun in the slightest. If anything, the rapt look of awe only grows the longer Xingqiu plays, wide eyes locked on every minute shift of Xingqiu's body as he watches with undisguised adoration.
Xingqiu can't help the heat that rises to his cheeks at the sight.
All too soon, the quivering mess of off-key notes finally ends. With a grimace, Xingqiu lowers the bow and violin, sucking in a deep, steadying breath.
"Happy now?"
"I am," Comes Chongyun's simple, earnest reply. "Thank you, Xingqiu."
Xingqiu doesn't understand at all. His playing sounds like a dying whale — a loud, clumsy, ear-splitting mess of screeches that should have sent any sane listener fleeing in terror. So why does it make Chongyun so happy?
...Really, what else is new? Being close with Chongyun has never made sense.
Oh, whatever... As long as Chongyun is enjoying himself.
***
His violin case makes a dull thud when it hits the ground as Xingqiu unceremoniously sets it down next to his bed. Then, with an exaggerated, full-body groan, he flops face-first onto his bed.
He might have pushed himself a touch too far when practicing today. The pads of his fingers still tingle with a dull, throbbing ache. Too bad he hasn't developed the necessary calluses to play without pain. Truly, while Xingqiu prides himself on excelling in most scholarly and artistic pursuits, music remains a perpetual thorn in his side.
"Ridiculous," he mumbles into his pillow. "I wasn't even making good progress."
And yet... the memory of Chongyun's earnest excitement makes his chest feel full to bursting. For years, playing the violin had been nothing but a chore, a box to tick off in his parents' grand vision for the perfect child. But playing for Chongyun? It felt...
Xingqiu groans, rolling onto his side to glare at the innocent-looking case.
"Don't get any ideas. This doesn't change anything..." he hisses through his teeth, as if the damned thing had magically gained a conscience. A ridiculous thought, for certain, and a reminder that he is overdue for some sleep after the chaos of today.
But even as the words leave his mouth, he can't quite silence the thoughts in the back of his mind that maybe, just maybe, there is some merit to continuing these tedious violin lessons after all. He still dreads the thought of endless etudes, and yet...
His fingers reach out to brush against the case almost of their own volition. As the latch flips open and Xingqiu carefully withdraws his violin, cradling it with a tenderness he didn't think himself capable of, the realization truly begins to sink in.
He still doesn't enjoy playing, not by a long shot, but now... now he has a reason to keep practicing beyond the obligation to please doting parents. He has someone else now, even if his audience consists of an overly enthusiastic drummer boy who could probably listen to screeching metal and have stars in his eyes. His own personal cheerleader who finds something to cherish in every stumbling, off-key note.
A tiny, wistful smile tugs at the corners of Xingqiu's mouth as he places his chin on the rest, fingers finding their position along the polished neck almost instinctively.
"...Just this once. I suppose it can't hurt to practice a little more.”