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Click.
Kieran watches idly as a drink tumbles down from the vending machine.
It wasn’t even the one he wanted, but he had run short of coins. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.
Click.
A familiar hand reaches out to tap the button, following small metal sounds of coins clashing, fighting to enter the vending machine.
Kieran turns around, faced with the dazzling smile of the student council president. His heart does a somersault and pounds a bit louder. He averts his gaze.
“Why’re you out here by yourself?” Florian probes, bending down to retrieve the drink. It’s the one Kieran wanted. He bites his lips as his grip on the can of coffee tightens. He doesn’t even like coffee, and Florian knows it.
The sunshine filters through the gentle rustle of wisteria trees, casting both bright light and shadow on the face of a boy he knows all too well. Of the boy in his illusions and nightmares.
“I thought you were busy...” He replies, voice barely louder than the chirping of sparrows on the trees nearby.
Florian sighs, straightening up again. “I am, but I still have time for you, don’t I?” He smiles, eyes alighting as they flick upwards. They are the same ones Kieran spends countless hours looking at, watching in silence, wishing, hoping. He looks away, suddenly finding the sky very interesting. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto this hope.
“Yes, I s’pose you do.” He mumbles, turning back towards the boy. Their eyes lock for the span of a heartbeat before they look away again. His mind flashes back to weeks ago, when the two of them sit outside together, watching the rain pour. Florian talks about some new club he plans to join. He talks about wanting Kieran’s input on something or the other. But Kieran only listens with half an ear as he watches him talk. The image of Florian leaning forward in excitement to tell stories replays itself over and over again in his head. His gaze never leaves him, even as he stares off into space, thinking about something else entirely. When it eventually becomes apparent that Florian cannot finish his sentence without his full attention, Kieran finally stirs from the trance he finds himself in, just like now.
“Huh?” Kieran asks, looking up to see Florian standing there, offering him his favorite drink. Kieran takes the bottle, feeling strangely awkward and unsure of what to say. He could tell from the way Florian is looking down at him, eyes sparkling with amusement, that he had noticed Kieran staring off into space. Florian smiles—the way he always did when Kieran got lost in thought—and his words spill out effortlessly, like a breeze.
“I said...” Florian trails off as Kieran holds the bottle closer to his body. He shakes his head, chuckling slightly before resuming. “Never mind, Kieran.” He smiles again and reaches into his pocket.
As he pulls out his wallet, he continues, “Let’s go get lunch, yeah? My treat.” His tone is soft and inviting, and Kieran couldn’t help but agree. After all, it was Florian who had made him want to eat in the first place.
They walk towards the cafeteria, chatting quietly. The space was crowded with classmates and teachers. While there is nothing inherently wrong with eating on school grounds, Kieran always felt more comfortable in private than in public.
Even if that means having to listen to Florian prattle on and on about whatever idiotic thing that comes to his mind. It is nice, though, to just spend time with Florian outside of class. To sit somewhere secluded, eating and talking as they watch the sunlight weave through leaves.
Of course, when they arrive at the cafeteria, there are already a few students seated at the table.
“...Ah,” Kieran murmurs, looking over the crowd.
“We should probably sit together…” He suggests, pointing at the empty seat next to him. Florian nods, following his gaze, and sits down gingerly. The proximity is something new, Kieran thinks, but he tries not to show it.
Neither of them spoke, for a long moment. Kieran busies himself with admiring the way the sunlight fell on Florian’s hair, glinting off his hazel locks. He wonders how it would feel to run his fingers through it, how silky it would be between his fingertips. He wonders if Florian knew how much Kieran wanted to do it right now.
Florian makes quick work at ordering the sandwiches. He knew Kieran's taste like the back of his hand. It's surprising, really, for someone so busy to memorise such basic things such as a person's favourite food. Or even their least favourite food.
But Florian doesn't judge people based on their personal tastes - that would be hypocritical, since his own is not much better. Besides, he has enough experience being around him to know how much Kieran likes simple, unadorned meals. He knows how his favourite sandwich is made, the ingredients used, and the kind of bread it comes with. And while he may not have the best memory, he has learned how to read Kieran fairly well.
Florian doesn't think anything of it. If anything, he considers himself lucky, knowing so much about Kieran. Being close with someone for a whole year means you learn many things about them, which means he already knows almost everything there is to know about his friend. Or so he thought, anyway.
They eat in comfortable silence, and Kieran is relieved that it is just them — usually, Florian’s sister, Juliana, would come find them with her girlfriend Nemona. The latter scares Kieran, too passionate about everything she sees. Florian's sister is nice, and Kieran trusts her, but he can never predict when Nemona will explode with an idea about a different type of art project, or how excited she is to share her latest ideas with everyone in the room. She can be rather loud, sometimes, at least, Kieran supposes that's normal for her when it comes to these things.
“Do you have after-school activities today?” Kieran asks, turning his head slightly to face Florian. It’s weird to sit side-by-side. He’s always preferred sitting opposite Florian. He wants to see his eyes, even if holding eye contact could be difficult.
“Yeah… There’s the upcoming sport’s day that still needs planning, and then piano lesson later at four.” He answers truthfully, looking a little apologetic that his schedule is so tightly packed.
“...still working on the Rachmaninoff piece?” Kieran prompts, and it’s too late before he could control the words from leaving his mouth — he only knew that Florian was playing Elegie in E-flat minor when he walked by the piano room two weeks ago. The piece is challenging, and the same mellow melody always ricochets off the walls in the empty hallway.
“Wait, how’d you know? That’s embarrassing for me…” Florian chuckles sheepishly, “I wanted to get it down by this week, but it’s taking longer than expected…”
“But it’s only been a few weeks since you started the piece, and you’ve already progressed so much,” Kieran argues tentatively, though there’s no bite behind his words, “...I heard you practice a few times, when I walked past the room. It sounded good.”
“I’m glad you think so, that’ll motivate me to put in more effort!” Florian smiles, and the warmth reaches his eyes. Kieran replicates it with a small one of his own. Florian is always so hardworking, giving his all in every field, and Kieran loved that about him.
The bell rings, and their short time together comes to a close, again.
“Wait, Kieran,” Florian starts as they both stand up to leave for class, “Can you come find me later? At the music building.”
Kieran is startled, but he nods nonetheless. “A-alright.”
With one more curve gracing his lips, Florian mouths a small ‘see you later’ and leaves for class.
“Whatcha doin’ after class, Kieran?” Crispin, currently sitting next to Kieran in maths class, whispers. The former is in a culinary club, and loves to drag Kieran to taste some of his creations in the kitchen — even if it’s so hot and spicy that Kieran can’t help but chug a liter of water afterwards.
“Florian asked me to go somewhere… sorry.” Kieran whispers back, looking apologetic. He enjoys Crispin’s company, minus the part of being the test subject for newly invented spices.
“Woah, really! That guy’s always so busy. The last time I saw him was when he helped some first-year students when they got lost! Come to think of it, he really is doing his duties properly as the student council president.” Crispin comments, a sparkle in his eyes, “I’m so jealous you get to hang with him!”
“Yeah, he really is busy, volunteering here and there like that…” Kieran sighs, running a hand through his hair, “when was the last time he came into our club room?”
“Come to think of it, he hasn’t been showing up since last month… I understand though, that guy’s busy preparing for his eighth grade piano exam. Seriously, what a workaholic! Only Amarys could match his energy in the student council.”
“They’ve both been absent for a while, Lacey has been complainin’ about it to me, but nothin’ we can do…” Kieran exhales, it’s heavier this time, “it wasn’t like this last year.”
Their teacher casts a glance at the corner of their tables, and Crispin quickly lowers his volume, “Yeah! Last year everyone had so much free time, we were always hanging out… aw man, this is making me miss the energy.”
The words send Kieran into a thoughtful trance. He knows that Florian has high expectations of himself, and at the same time he’s gifted like no other. He can do anything if he puts his mind to it. Yet, he can’t help but wonder if Florian is overworking himself — club activities, piano, student council, volunteering… the list seems to go on forever, he’s getting tired just imagining the amount of things to do.
“You’re going to the kitchen after this, Crispin?” Kieran asks, a small but dumb plan formulating in his head. Crispin nods, and he makes up his mind.
“Then I’ll come with you… I want to bake something.”
For Florian, he thinks but doesn’t add.
It was a bad idea.
Kieran was never good at cooking, or baking, he must admit. Carmine tried to teach him how to bake cupcakes once, and they came out darker than charcoal because he set the timer to 40 minutes instead of 20.
As he stares at the mess of melted chocolate on his gloved hands, Crispin laughs uncontrollably. He quickly shoots a glance at the latter, but it comes out a lot weaker when there are flour streaks on his cheek.
“Don’t just laugh… come help me.” He nudges Crispin with his elbow begrudgingly. The redhead struggles to understand how it could be difficult to mix cake mixture with chocolate, but comes to Kieran’s aid regardless.
After they have finally sent the damned thing into the oven, Kieran pulls out his phone and double, triple checks the timer, just in case. Crispin is still cooking something that smells dangerously like the cupcakes he once made.
They spend a long while in silence, with only the sizzling of whatever Crispin’s cooking on the pan filling the room, until he decides to speak up.
“So, Kieran,” He starts over the flame that’s currently grazing the bottom of a very burnt looking pan, “What’s with you and Florian?”
Kieran chokes, partially from the fume that is now clouding the kitchen but more so from the question. “What do you mean?”
“Drayton said you used to be in the music club, but quit after Florian decided to join. I mean, it’s true, we all knew you had some sort of musical talent that’s just as good as Florian!” Crispin yells over the noise from the frying pan, “but why?”
Kieran, not really wanting to talk about a topic like this over a menacing fire and the spicy smell, settles on a simple answer, “‘cause Sis said I wouldn’t have time to continue with it.”
It’s not true, he thinks. He only quit because Florian was the same kid that beat him in a piano competition two years ago, but the latter wouldn’t remember that now. Seeing Florian play in the audition at the music club made him realise that he should quit sooner than later. All his years of hard work, erased in a single moment when the announced winner wasn’t Kieran. Those who knew him were surprised at the loss, and so was he; for someone that was worshipped like a prodigy up until that very moment, Kieran’s dreams had shattered into remnants he couldn’t recollect. Of course, his pride wouldn’t allow him to tell Florian oh hey you beat me a couple years ago and that’s why I’m never playing again but can still recognise all the pieces you play because I know them by heart!
It’s weird to think about it again. Sure, piano isn’t the only instrument he’s good at, but that was his whole world until it wasn’t. He’s not sad about it, though, because Florian is his whole world now. He’ll gladly swallow defeat, even if it’s one-sided and very much idiotic.
“I see… but you’re so good at other instruments! Amarys told me she saw you play the guitar once!” Crispin continues, not really picking up the hint that this conversation should end.
“Well she shouldn’t have…” Kieran murmurs, breaking eye-contact as he returns his focus back onto the oven. The timer has gone off.
He carefully retrieves the chocolate cake from its resting place, feeling a little rigid in the oven gloves. It’s weird that Crispin was one to point out about his past — Kieran thought he had done a good enough job to move on from it. Must’ve been Drayton, that loudmouth.
He sets the cake down to cool completely before cutting and adding buttercream frosting in between the layers. It’s not exactly exquisite work, but at least it looks edible. Crispin comes over and applauds Kieran’s effort.
Now he just has to give it to Florian…
It’s a little bemusing, for someone like Kieran to be baking, much less giving the product of his hard work to someone else. He wonders if it’s too obvious, all this effort, but he’s only Florian’s friend so surely nobody will see the intentions behind the thick layer of sweet cream. Of unspoken desires and unfulfilled daydreams.
He cuts the cake into a small piece and gently places it in a container. It’s okay, he thinks, that’s what friends do, and he wants to be supportive, he wants to see Florian succeed, to see him shine in the spotlight that is rightfully his.
He wants more than anyone to treasure Florian, hide him away from the light of day where only he could enjoy him, but Kieran knew better than that.
The melody that streams out from the music room is one that Kieran knew all too well.
It’s a little uneven, partly because Florian is still trying to understand the piece. He stands outside and listens for a bit longer, unsure if he should disturb him now. Florian’s hands move effortlessly across the keys, stopping occasionally to double check the note or replay a section.
Kieran grips the container. Then he pushes in.
Florian didn’t seem to notice his presence, the tune continued to flow from the grand piano. He gently sets the cake down on an empty desk before moving to stand behind Florian, watching intently. After replaying the same bars a few times, Kieran quietly speaks up.
“Left hand should play in four-bar phrases here, not two…” He comments, and Florian didn’t seem to recognise there was someone standing behind him. He follows the instructions, and it becomes easier to build for the semi-climax of the piece.
Only then did he turn around.
“K-Kieran..?!” He yelps, surprise evident in his eyes as their gaze meets, “I didn’t know you came in!”
“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you…” Kieran offers a slight smile, “It’s sounding better though. The piece.”
“Yeah, but—” Florian pauses. There’s no way someone could just casually point out such minor details regarding a specific piece, unless they play the piano themselves. “How’d you know— I didn’t know you played— do you?”
It’s funny to see pure bewilderment on Florian’s face. Kieran will have to make sure he captures that in his head. Forever.
“Then you must’ve forgotten about the competition two years ago.” He confesses, and memories come flooding inside Florian’s mind like wild horses. The stage, his opponent, loose dark purple hair and certainly not like the Kieran now — hair tied back, but he can see the resemblance.
“You looked so different back then…!” He exclaims, like a child that just discovered how to rip off the wrapping of a lollipop.
“Is that good or bad?” Kieran asks, completely missing the point of the conversation.
“That’s beside the point! I really didn’t know— oh gods, is it embarrassing to hear me play?” Florian laughs, his eyes twinkling under the evening glow and Kieran has to restrain from giving into his desires. He’s so beautiful.
“‘course not…” He trails off, wondering what he should say next. He’s both relieved and nervous about Florian finding out, and all the words die in his throat when Florian speaks up again.
“I’m so glad it was you.”
Me too, Kieran thinks, even if the boy sitting in front of him is the one that crushed his hopes and dreams. Even if he is his hopes and dreams. It’s almost like fate played some cruel joke, only for it to turn out a blessing instead. He will never regret this.
“Is there anything else that I should know about you?” Florian jokes, his voice light and airy, and Kieran finds himself smiling at the question. Words are threatening to spill from his tightly sealed lips, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he says them.
“...did you know that I like you?”