Chapter Text
Minute glared at his reflection. It glared right back.
“You’re literally going to be fine, stop worrying about it.” He jabbed a finger at the mirror, and it did it right back at him. Still, the shiver that ran down his spine felt personal, and not like the result of standing in a cold bathroom in just his shirt and boxers—the window wasn’t even open to let in the air.
If only he could turn his brain off. It had been working overtime with all the stress of the upcoming event, sapping every last bit of energy he had. Everything was ready, it damn well had to be or he’d lose his mind even more. Tomorrow would be their biggest show yet. Things were supposed to be fine.
His eyes flicked down to the bottle of pills that sat accusingly on the edge of the sink. Since the fight with his parents, it’d been sitting there, untouched. Three days. Three days without his meds. God, this had to be the worst timing. Why did he have to choose now to be defiant against his parents? What if something happened during the concert?
Fingers brushing the plastic bottle, he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He’d been dealing with this damn depression since his teens, he probably couldn’t afford to go without these for long.
But he tore his hand away again. He’d be fine. He could ignore the itching in his hands and the buzzing in his brain long enough to do the concert. He would prove his parents wrong. He was 21 years old now, old enough to do whatever he wanted. Surely things would be fine.
With another glare at himself, he pulled away from the mirror and pushed his way out of his bathroom. It took only a short trip down the hallway and stairs to get to the living room. His home felt too big for him sometimes, especially when the others were out and busy. It made him clench his hands into fists as he ignored the kitchen and his phone on the counter. Frustration only bubbled up more in his stomach when he looked past the massive living room, through the floor-to-ceiling windows and out over the city.
The penthouse at the very top of the building they settled in gave them a perfect view of the Super HQ every single day. And, with that, it reminded him of the dreams that were impossible for him to reach. He was no hero, he just had to watch them do the things he’d wanted to do since he was only four years old.
It was an unfair world to the powerless ones. He scoffed, attention moving to the posters on the wall. He’d fought his way to the top regardless. Each poster there was for a performance. They’d started out small, with a flyer that had ruffled edges and a tear at the top of the page. But it sat in the very middle of the wall now, surrounded by posters that had slowly increased in size. They were a proper band now.
Minute nearly stumbled over a stray guitar on the floor when he tried to move closer to the posters. A laugh escaped him. It seemed everyone but him had forgotten to clean up after their improv session earlier.
He crouched down to pick it up from the carpet, and all his worries seeped away like water through a sift. A smile pulled at the edge of his lips. He hummed, fingers brushing over the instrument. The stress in his shoulders eased at the quiet notes he freed from the strings. Ash wasn’t around to tell him to stop touching his things, so he plucked a few more notes from it as he moved to put it on its stand.
Maybe that was what he so desperately needed to finally relax.
Before he knew it, a violin sat in his hands. It belonged on the wall on its pedestal, a memory of his parents and the lessons they made him take because they wanted him to do something … classier than shredding a guitar or smacking sticks on drums. He couldn’t deny he loved violins too, even if they never ended up being his favourite.
He inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then released it when he put his chin on the rest. The living room wasn’t his place to be practising this, but who cared anyways when no one was home? Eyes slipping closed, he rested the bow on the strings, a pleasant thrill calming his brain down at the miniscule sound it made. He was alone with his music, not a soul around to worry about now.
With practised ease, he moved his bow over the strings to create a heavenly tune. He played a song he’d done many times before. It came like breathing, in and out, chest rising with the stroke of the bow, chest falling as he played another part of the song from memory.
And when he didn’t want to continue the song, he moved as his heart desired. The frown pulling together his eyebrows fell, his fingers held his instrument only as light as they had to. Music echoed around the penthouse as he moved along with it, like grass in the wind, following the flow naturally.
Every other noise faded away. It was just the darkness of the music which turned into something light, something slow that turned fast, something bitter that changed into sweetness as he let go of everything. There was only him and his music, and the feeling of floating like even gravity had stopped holding him down. He could get lost like this, drifting in an endless abyss of music.
By the time he finally got himself to pull the bow and violin away, he let his head fall back and sucked in a deep breath as if he hadn’t for hours. For a moment, he stood, letting the music fade.
It took effort to pry his eyes back open. The windows in front of him seemed to vibrate, and he blinked to get rid of the blurriness. His chest heaved as he let his hands drop to his sides.
A huff of a laugh escaped him. When was the last time he’d felt so free?
He didn’t stop his lips from splitting into a grin. There were no words to express just how much he loved music. Nothing quite understood him like noise did—no offense meant towards the others, but they were only human.
Minute hung the violin back on the wall, fingers tracing it like saying bye to a friend before he turned to the kitchen. Suddenly, eating didn’t feel so bad, nor did going out to meet the others at the concert hall later on. Maybe he ought to pick up a new violin, one perfect for him, one he picked out himself. The mere idea of it put a newfound pep in his step.