Keeping A Straight Face | ✔

01 | Melodious

T A Y L O R

Thursday, January 31st, 2014

I cracked my knuckles and placed the pads of my fingers on the piano's silky surface, eager to make beautiful music with it.

My fingers danced over the keys, tapping each black and white slab in perfect rhythm, mimicking the tune written down on the sheet music in front of me. My fingers stretched apart as they moved from note to note, the sounds enveloping me like a snug blanket on a cold winter's day. The beautiful blend of the bass notes and the clicks of the treble notes sent chills down my spine. Right here, right now, there was nothing else in the world except me and this grand piano.

I wasn't practicing anything that Miss Lauriana had given me. On Thursdays she let me stay behind after school to practice my own music in her classroom.

Instinctively, my throat began to hum the notes of the lyrics I had written for the song I was playing. My performance had to be perfect - this was one of the songs I was going to play in the coming weeks in front of the entire school.

My fingers picked up in speed, tapping the keys as smoothly as I could muster. Since it was nearly four in the afternoon, nobody was at Vale high school except for the odd teacher that stayed behind for marking, or the occasional cleaner or two swapping the lining for the bins. Having memorised this part of the song by heart, I shut my eyes as I began to sing the chorus.

My fingers, and my voice, halted as a loud cough came from the doorway. Almost instantly, I knew it was Darko listening - he poked his head through the door, smiling as we made eye contact. He coughed again as he walked to me, his black sneakers squeaking against the tiles.

"Hey," he croaked before clearing his throat.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, or did your pneumonia heal already?" I teased. Darko wiped his nose with his jumper sleeve, chuckling to himself.

"It's just the flu. Jesus, man," he said before smirking, "I came because I wanted to hear you play. You know that your music makes me feel better."

His eyes darted to the black grand piano in front of me, then to my fingers. His green eyes flitted up to meet mine as he cleared his throat.

"Well? Show me those fingers doing their thing, Tay. The thing you were playing before sounded great, play that one."

My hands quivered over the instrument, its pearly white keys suddenly reflecting the harsh afternoon sunlight that shone through the tall arched windows behind me. My hands knew what to do - they've played the piano in dozens of theatres, stages, and plays before - yet they sat there limply on the keys. I adjusted my glasses and swallowed hard. The timing had to be right. I couldn't play this to him.

The song is about him.

"What I was playing is a... surprise for the performance," I said, gritting my teeth at my shallow lie. "I'll play some Beethoven, you love him."

He furrowed his brow before nodding in agreement. He slid his hand softly over the instrument, wiping the trace amount of dust from it, before grabbing one of the chairs that had been stacked by a cleaner. He sat next to the piano, facing me.

'God, he's so fucking cute.' I thought to myself.

It was hard being in love with your straight best friend; I just couldn't be completely honest with him.