//------------------------------//
// Verse Two: Andante 
// Story: Meteronome of Love 
// by JN 
//------------------------------//

Spring has come once again to the quaint town of Sonyville, the place I was born and raised. The strange spelling of the name confuses many but, rest assured, it's pronounced exactly how it's spelled. 

Ever since the incident, I've lived with my uncle. He's a kind man who doesn't have any expectations of me, only to live righteously. 

As for me, I'm an average student you could find just about anywhere. I study, eat, sleep, and repeat. I might go to college, I might continue helping my uncle out at his coffee shop like I've been used to doing for a while, whichever is more convenient — though I know he wants me to pursue the former and is willing to pay for further education, I don't know if I could burden him like that.

After all, I have no aspirations now.

The child prodigy soloist Jaemin Song died with that spring day six years ago.

I am now average by all assessments, with no particular skills or interests. Such is life. Such is how life will continue until I'm nothing but dust.

y = -1x

This is the expression for a line that decreases in height, y, for every x value. Perhaps nothing could best describe me now. This is the new line that now defines the path of my life. Every x is a day in the chapter of my story, and every y is a further decsension into the unknown. 

At least, that's what I thought. But spring had other ideas for me.





It was another beautiful, wretched day. Sonyville was known for it's pleasant climate during most seasons, and this made it very attractive for many. Some tell tall tales of the weather having been maintained since ancient times by powerful winged creatures with almighty magicks, but I don't know who I heard that from.

The wind tousled my hair and pressed the fabric of my clothes tightly against my skin, making a prominent outline of my wiry frame. I didn't like that one bit. If there really are any little magic ponies stirring the air in my town, I'd appreciate if they could at least leave me be...

The last day of my 3rd year of high school had come to an uneventful close, and the remainder of my day was almost exceedingly free. With my uncle retiring the shop for a week to prepare for a grand re-opening, I find myself with more and more free time nowadays. Again, such is life. Ever since the incident, vacations have been more troubling to me than when school is in session. Not knowing what to do with yourself can be a worse cage than the toughest iron-clad prison bars.

That being the case, I opted to take a walk around town before returning home. My bag was light, so it wasn't nearly as much of a hassle as it would be on a normal school day — after all, the only thing it contained was a clean yearbook with no signatures or notes. I left the campus before anyone could approach me with that intent.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. My sneakers make a dull noise against the pavement as I made a detour from my usual route home. Wouldn't be much a walk around town if I made a beeline for my house, after all.

Downtown would be too noisy, and I'd like to sit down...  

The park it was then. A place I normally avoided, but on a day like today, where the finality of school put a particularly weightless spring in my step, I felt it was fine to make an exception. Despite not frequenting the location often, I found the park with no particular issue and stepped foot within.

Not even a brief moment had passed before I heard something. A sound. A sound so sweet, I nearly mistook it for the fragrance of the roses. 

Music. Beautiful music, in fact. Whose, though? I needed to know. My pace quickened, first to a power walk, then a jog, then a full sprint.

What was this feeling? My heart was racing like I had run a thousand miles. And as it beat fast, I felt it fracturing in certain places, not knowing which emotion to feel, how to react, what to say, what to do... except find the source of that precious, beautiful sound which had evaded me for so long.

I remembered the song being played. Prelude from Bach's Cello Suite. It was one of the first songs I had ever learned, and the one that taught me how to play in second position... I could hear it, I could hear it, I could hear it!

I can hear it.

I could hear the notes of the cello! Every note was being played in my mind with a hand on the string and another on the bow, in quick sweeping motions...!

I rounded the corner, nearly tripping over in my haste, and saw her.

Black hair, long and lustrous that danced in the wind filled my vision. She swayed gently as she played, letting the wind I so despised carry her like a masquerade with each note and phrase. Her pale skin was like a canvas, being painted by the colors of the grass and flowers and sky and sound.

A girl who couldn't have been much older than me stood in a clearing with no instrument I've ever played nor performed alongside in my life...

A recorder. 

That's impossible. I heard a cello. I know I did — how could I possibly make that kind of mistake? But the more I listened, the more it became obvious.

I didn't hear a cello. 

I never heard a cello. I merely pictured it in my mind and replaced the notes to fit, because it was being played so true to the original rendition. I had deluded myself. Dumbfounded, both by my own foolishness and the incredible prowess of the girl who stood before me, I could only stand and watch until she finished. Her Prelude finished with a high intensity section of joyful repeating notes and measures, and ended on a triumphant final note, just as it's written in the score. As she released her lips from the tip of the recorder, the image hit me again of a bow leaving the string in a gesture of grand finality. 

This girl performed Prelude to such a degree of finesse and beauty with a recorder that I couldn't even begin to compare it to any cellist I had ever met in my life. Completely taken aback, I felt my weight shift towards one side—the wind pushing me, again— and stepped squarely on a nearby twig. An audible crack filled the air as I froze in panic.

The girl turned her head sharply in my direction. 

Her eyebrows raised once, then lowered. Her face betrayed no expression, but I could see the ends of her mouth curling up as her eyes fell upon me.

And she opened her mouth to speak—

"Where's my applause?"

Her... applause? She was really expecting something like that? I quickly glanced from my left to my right to see if anyone else was nearby but to no avail. It was just us two.

"I..."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. Part of me was still in shock. Her emotionless smile against that colorful park painted a picture that I would need weeks to fully analyze. 

Still, I needed to know.

"Who are you?" 

The face I didn't recognize but so dearly felt drawn to.

Though her smile widened, her eyes remained the same. Wide, discerning, opaque, as if looking both at me and through me at the same time.

"A famous violinist once said this," She let the arm with the recorder fall to her side as she turned to completely face me. "Music can transcend words."

She wore an expression on her face I couldn't decipher. Rather, I could not align her words with the emotions she could have been feeling in that moment to any capacity.

"Still don't know who I am?" She prompted.

I gulped. The feeling of not wanting to disappoint her was overwhelming, but it couldn't be helped.

"N... no."

Her smile faltered slightly. "Well," she spoke slightly under her breath, "that's to be expected."

The black-haired girl cleared her throat, and started walking towards me in long, confident strides, causing me to take a step back reflexively.

"The best musicians always did live the most tragic lives, didn't they? Chopin, Beethoven, and the rest..."

She stopped right before me. A mere few inches was the distance between my face and her's.

"Octavia," she spoke clearly and commandingly, as if she had my heart in the grip of her fist. "Octavia Melody."

"Try not to forget it a second time, okay?" Another smile... but this time, her eyes smiled followed in suit. 

Beautiful.

I couldn't help but think that.

Not just aesthetically. Though her face was well proportioned and cute with piercing lavender eyes and long eyelashes, and her hair gorgeously lush, and her white dress showing a figure with curves in all the right places... what made my heart beat faster than anything was the sound that still rung in my ears. Her music. Her Prelude. Not Bach's.

Octavia Melody. She was dazzling. Her skill with a cello was dazzling. Bright enough to make me want to avert my eyes and close my ears. She was like the sun... no, she was like spring itself. 

...As for me? I couldn't begin to describe the look on my face in that moment.

And like a big lumbering oaf, I simply replied, "Oh."





"Seriously?! You ran into the Octavia Melody?"

Did I forget to mention a certain someone? I may be unable to hear the sound of the cello, nor can I pursue classical music as a profession anymore, but that doesn't mean I'm a loner.

"Duuuude, what is wrong with you?" A girl with shocking blue hair and a lazily strewn together outfit of a tank-top and shorts yelled almost drunkenly as she sunk further into my chair. As usual, we were lounging about in my room — a common after-school affair between friends. "You didn't get her number or anything? For reals?!"

This obnoxious girl is known as Alexis Capella. She sometimes prefers to go by her "stage name," though - Vinyl Scratch that is. Don't ask me where she got that idea from, especially when she bears no particular love for record players.

One look at her and you know she's not the quiet, meek, "good girl" type - not just her dyed hair, but her wildly punk sense of fashion, an attitude that I've never seen on even the most seasoned musicians, and more energy than I've seen in even the most hyperactive puppy. Still, she has a heart of gold. You just might need to wipe away some grime to get there. 

I know it better than anyone, having been friends with her before and after the incident. I have her to thank for getting me through some difficult years. On top of that, she gives me something to do in my spare time— seeing as she's all about the aspiring DJ life, I offer help with her music production and do some backstage stuff whenever she has an event. I still remember how most music is structured after all, even if EDM isn't really my thing. Alexis isn't always the most receptive to my feedback, but no doubt she has me to thank for some of her tracks hitting some high numbers on the internet.

How we met? I'll save that for another time.

She was obviously upset with me today for no reason, as usual. Still, I was grateful to have her company over the summer break. At the very least, this would fill in the gaps between helping Uncle out at the store.

I sighed, cracking open a can of soda while tossing her a spare. "What kind of chauvinist do you think I am to ask for someone's number the first time I meet them?"

She shot me a look as she deftly caught it between her feet (I was almost kind of impressed by that before realizing her athleticism puts her on par with your average zoo monkey). "You know that's not what I mean dude! How do you not know Octavia Melody? I mean, you of all people!"

Speaking of getting to know people, I was apparently about to get the full run down on this Octavia character. It had been a few hours since I ran into her at the park, and although I only mentioned it briefly to Alexis, this was the reaction I got.

"What's the big deal? It's not like the conversation really went anywhere after that. All that happened was..."





"O- Octavia. Right. I'll try not to forget... again."

Looking satisfied, the black-haired girl took a playful step back and turned away.

Weird. She talked like we knew each other from somewhere, when frankly, I had no idea who this girl was nor where we could have possibly met. My memories of my childhood were a little fuzzy, but I definitely would have remembered a person who had her looks or personality. 

"And you?"

The sudden question surprised me.

"Me? Oh, uh..."

I cleared my throat, trying to match her flow. "Jaemin. Jaemin Song."

She chuckled. "Why isn't that coincidental?"

I frowned at that. "What is?"

"Oh, nothing..."

We started walking as we talked, somehow. Though a little awkward at first, unsure of whether my presence was wanted or not, I naturally felt myself easing into it. She was easy to talk to somehow, and over very little things like the weather or which flowers were in season.

I asked the most burning question on my mind.

"Earlier..." She perked up, apparently surprised that I was initiating the conversation. "That was Bach's Prelude, right?"

The inquiry seemed to tickle her fancy somehow as her smile became— was it just my imagination?— a little mischievous. 

"And how could you tell?"

Feeling a bit blindsided by the question that seemed obvious to me, I opened my mouth to reply—

But realized my answer would be wrong. I was not a cellist, nor was I a musician. Not anymore.

"I... I just recognized it. Heard it on the radio, you know."





"Jamie, come over here and take a look at this."

Urgh. I wish she'd stop calling me that. I even respect her dumb stage name, so why is she incapable of showing a fraction of that courtesy towards me?

"Look at what?" I sighed, getting off my bed and walking over to the blue-haired girl, now using my computer as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"This." She pulled up a news site and shoved the monitor in my direction. I leaned in to get a better look.

There she was. The girl from the garden, Octavia Melody. Her picture on full display in a bold red dress, with the headline:

Finalists Announced for the 2018 Ekuestrya International Music Competition.

I whistled. That was an event you definitely knew regardless of whether you were a classical musician, a DJ, or even an average Joe. It was a multi-faceted type of festival that celebrated the best performers of all genres of music, though I only ever remember being involved in the classical music section of the competition. Alexis sent in a few of her songs for auditioning every few years, but had diminishing returns with nearly all of them. That was the kind of challenge you faced trying to achieve first place in such a prestigious competition — the steepest there is. There was the prize money and the free overseas tour to shoot for, but nothing was worth more than your name on that gold medal at the award ceremony and the fame that came with it.

I know that as well as anyone else. After all, there's Ekuestrya 1st Place medals from 2009 to 2012 collecting dust in my closet right this moment.

But, there she was, standing on a red carpet next to about a dozen other faces. Octavia, with a cello in hand, standing with a stiff pose and an equally stiff face — quite the contrast to the individual I met this afternoon. She looked more like a statue in that photo than a person.

"She's a freakin' celebrity dude! And check out that bod..." Alexis giggled as she lecherously ogled my computer screen.

I sighed, flicking the rambunctious girl square in the forehead with my fingers, making her yelp. "Easy. I don't think you're her type."

"Uuugh..." She whined as she massaged her forehead. "Yeah? What makes you so sure, loverboy?"

I sighed and stared at the ceiling, trying to best think of a way to put it...





"Woah!"

In a supremely embarrassing act of idiocy, my foot got caught on an upturned brick on the path, and I nearly found myself tumbling into a nearby rosebush when—

I felt Octavia's hand on mine, pulling me back. Close shave.

"Careful now. You're quite stiff, aren't you?" She commented, apparently not too phased by my slip-up, and helped me back onto my feet.

"Er..." I could feel my face flush, my heart heavy with shame. "I'm sorry." 

She gave me a look. "Why the apologies? Do you do that all the time?"

How was she so good at this? Putting on pressure? It wasn't so unreasonable that I apologize for being a burden, was it?

"I'm s—" Oops. Without thinking, I was about to repeat what I had just said.

"Well," I retorted, not wanting to get pushed back, "what should I be saying then?"

She sighed. "Rather than 'sorry,' how about 'thank you'?" She put her hands on her hips. "And I don't mean just for times like this. I mean for everything else in life. Thank you's are always better than Sorry's."

I was completely blindsided both by her words and the sudden change in temperament, but ended up nodding in agreement. "Alright then. Thank you, Octavia."

After a tense moment, the black-haired girl dropped the hardened look and smiled. "Good."





I made a weird face as I recalled the words she said from that afternoon. Basically...

"She just didn't seem like a rocker, okay? And I don't think she goes to raves either, or big parties, or anything like that..."

Alexis made a face at me. "You sure are well informed, huh? Did I even need to tell you about her?"

I stopped, surprised by my own words. Why was I talking like I knew her? 

"N— no. But classical musicians generally stick to their craft." I shot the blue-haired girl a look back. "I would know, wouldn't I?"

She stuck her tongue out at me and rolled out of my chair lazily. Alexis was a free spirit all right.

I sighed and picked her up off the ground like litter. "You're gonna get dirty like that. Do that on my bed at least."

"Wh—!?"

Her eyes became wide as saucers and she yelped and swatted at me. "D—don't say it like that, freak!" Was there some red on her cheeks? 

So she is a girl after all. I definitely had my doubts before. The sheer thought of it got a chuckle out of me.

"A perv like you..." 

Suddenly, I found myself getting— powerslammed?!

"..deserves some punishment!"

My field of vision suddenly took a wild, stomach-churning twist as I found myself landing on my bed with my back, and hard. On top of being rambunctious, this girl also had some monstrous strength when she got serious...

And before I knew it, Alexis positioned herself on top of me. All routes of escape blocked off.

"How's that, huh?" She said triumphantly, literally flexing on me. Her face was still red, but with excitement.

"I give, I give." I reply weakly, a smile on my face despite the circumstances. "You know I can't win against you."

"Hehe!" She had a big, dumb grin on her face as she giggled— the same one I had seen countless times in my life, one of the few things I still treasured. Her crimson red eyes and infectious joy pierced me, straight into my heart. "You know it!"

"Still though..." She dropped the act and fell against my chest (to which I replied, "oof" as her weight knocked a bit of wind out of me). "What do you think brought a big shot like Miss Melody to our quaint little town, huh?"

I stared at the ceiling, my head spinning with the same question as I felt her chest slowly rise and fall in rhythm with mine.





"So you are a musician."

I stopped in my tracks while she kept walking. An unpleasant feeling washed over me, and my feet felt planted to the brick path. 

"A string player, to be exact." She spoke as if to drive the point further.

"That's not..." A drop of sweat rolled down the side of my face. "How can you tell?"

Octavia stopped a few paces ahead of me and looked back, looking confused that I even had to ask.

"Your left hand." She held up her own to prove the point. "Your fingertips are very rigid, in a way that only years of being pressed against thin steel can produce. That's how I knew."

Then, earlier, when she saved me from falling over— that was when?

"...That's dirty." For the first time, I felt some irritation. I knew it was displaced. There was no way she could have tripped me on intention, and I'm not sure why I was so against my found out like this, but for her to expose something I hadn't openly stated about myself...

Octavia's mouth formed a smile, but her eyes looked directly at me. "What is?"

I defiantly held her gaze for a moment before dropping it. What was wrong with me? I wasn't seriously about to lash out towards a girl I just met, was I? No... come to think of it, it *was* her fault. For making it seem like we met somewhere before. For making it seem like this was natural. Like we were meant to be talking like this on this day, in this moment, in this place. Like it was fate.

"Don't be sour, Jaemin. I don't point it out to spite you."

While my head was clouded with thoughts, I found my hands in her's once more. Barely having any time to react, I only looked up at her.

"You know..."

Octavia spoke so quietly that it was almost a whisper. There was no one around us, so there wasn't any need... it was as if she was telling me a secret that only the two of us could know. Her face being so close again, I could make out her features better. Long, beautiful eyelashes complimented her deep lavender eyes. She gazed with an emotion I couldn't quite place in her eyes at my hands.

"These hands." She spoke while rubbing the tip of my index finger with her's. "They've worked hard. They have so much passion and warmth. They're the hands of someone who knows their purpose. And I..."

She squeezed slightly as she looked up to meet my gaze.

"I love them."

My head was swirling with questions. My heart was beating to an irregular time signature. I began to worry that I was sweating, that my breathing was off... but when I saw the look on her face, those long eyelashes, those piercing eyes and soft lips... and feeling the gentle breeze of that perfect day on my skin, painted in bright colors by the flower garden surrounding us...

...somehow, every worry and fear in my mind felt so small compared to that moment. Compared to her, Octavia Melody, the girl I found— or, perhaps, found me— in the heart of the most important springtime of my entire life.