//------------------------------// // Summer, 1st Movement. // Story: The Four Seasons for Quintet // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// In a way, Harmonic liked June. It was at a time when the sun was just close enough to the earth without scorching it. It was at a time when everything from the grass that continually demand for water and a trim and the trees are in a rich green. There was the breeze that carried the soft nose of rustling of leaves, and the distant chatter of neighbors and their children. Harmonic turned away from the window to look at the clock on the mental. It’s almost time for his first of many privet lessons to begin today. He had finished lunch by this time and waited for someone to pull up in his driveway. Luckily for the teacher, his student didn’t take long to show up. A blue car pulled up in front of his sidewalk. Out from the passenger’s side, the student he was expecting got out, exchanging a few words to the driver before walking up to his front door, all the while noticing the pair of drumsticks in his pocket. One ring of the doorbell later, Harmonic went up to the door to open it, “Hey Mr. H.” He nodded back, “Afternoon Soarin,” the teacher stepped aside and welcomed the blue athlete inside. “Since you’re learning further about the percussion, I think I should show you to the garage. It’s where I keep a few drums and come to think of it, I think they need a good dusting.” Soarin stepped through the front entrance and gave a low whistle. In the living room, there was a shiny black piano, a few tapestries, and paintings, a good size fireplace, a bookshelf, and an entertainment center that was filled with books, CD’s, a TV, and a stereo that faced the burgundy and gold couch. “Nice place.” “Thanks, it’s a little funny how well paid an ex-concert violinist can be. Some would think I should live in a villa, but I think this is cozy enough.” “So wait, you’re practically rich from playing the violin and you wanted to live here?” Harmonic shrugged, “What can I say, this town is home to me.” As he followed his music teacher down the hallway to the garage, Soarin noticed that on the wall where there were a few framed pictures hanging up, there were a few spaces where there was still an outline of something that once hung there. It didn’t take long for the blue athlete to guess to what kind of photos they were, after hearing about what Bon Bon said about a passing spouse. ‘Maybe the guy’s still hurtin’,’ he thought. At the end of the hall was the door to the garage. Soarin half expected it to be the messiest part of the house. However, it was organized with everyday items on shelves like pesticides, rock salt, extension cords, etc… his teacher’s car was parked towards the foldable door, and in a corner, there was an aged yellow sheet that protected an odd shaped object from dust. Harmonic carefully pulled back the sheet to reveal not just a drum set that one would see at rock concerts, but brass timpani, a small wind chime, and even a decent size gong. “Holy crap dude,” Soarin exclaimed, “Where’d you get all of that?” “I’ve been collecting instruments over the years. When I used to compose, I would prefer hearing the sound of the instruments to give me some inspiration.” “You used to write songs?” “Eh,” the amber teacher dusted off one of the drums with his hand, “Not the one with lyrics usually. They were for more instrumental.” “Oh.” The athlete walked up to the impressive collection of drums when his teacher asked, “Hey Soarin, mind if I ask you a personal question – nothing big or anything, just out of curiosity.” “Shoot.” “At the recital,” Harmonic said when he placed the cymbals on the set. “After everyone was done and ready to go, I saw you in tears. It’s something that I didn’t understand, everyone was so happy after we performed, and then I saw you like that. So, what happened?” Soarin sighed, “It was something stupid, Mr. H.” “Tears are not stupid, something was bothering you, and I’m stumped as to why.” His student looked up, and said in a monotone voice, “I got a text, saying that my girlfriend had decided to dump me. I’m not exactly sure why, but she-” Soarin stopped suddenly before clearing his throat, “Sorry, you don’t wanna hear that.” “Says who?” his teacher raised an eyebrow, “I’m guessing that this isn’t the first time this happened, did it?” Soarin had a look of surprise on his face, “How did you know that?” “Lucky guess, but a good one. So, are you aright Soarin?” He shrugged, “Just still a bit bummed out, I guess. And you’re right, this isn’t the first time that somebody had dumped me… nor will it be the last.” Harmonic paused, “You think nobody will be insane enough to love you for you, right?” “Nailed it,” he muttered. “Yet, why did you go on those dates anyway?” Soarin tiled his head, “Why? What do you mean why?” “Do you really believe that nobody will ever love you back? If you really did, you would have given up altogether. Yet, you’ve done it again and again, why?” The teenager put his hands in his pockets, “I don’t know… maybe there’s still hope for me?” “Bingo,” Harmonic snapped his fingers, “You still have hope.” “What does that mean?” “Have you heard the phrase, ‘Love is patient’?” his student nodded, “If there’s anything I’ve learned from my past marriage, is that finding someone to be with takes time. Even if you did find someone you like, you still need time to fully decide if you want to spend your lives together, not because of what they appeared to be, but who they really are. If you go off solely by looks, then you’re doomed to fail. For it takes work to care for someone you love.” Soarin blinked, “Whoa.” He scratched his head, “I’ve never seen it like that before.” “Take a seat,” Harmonic gestured over to the old leather stool. “I think it’s about time we begin this music lesson.” “Let’s,” Soarin took out the drumsticks from his pocket, “and thanks to Mr. H about that advice.” “No problem,” Harmonic stood in front of the drum set, “Okay, tell me, what do you know about rhythm?” _*_ Half-an-hour later, the doorbell was heard, “Looks like time’s up,” Harmonic said. Soarin put down his drumsticks, “Already? Well, that was quick.” His teacher stood upright after leaning against his car, “I know, time really files when you’re doing something interesting.” The blue athlete got up from his seat and followed him out of the garage. “Before I forget, are you going to pay me the fifteen dollars now or thirty next week?” “Hang on, I’ve got it,” Soarin reached into his pocket to grab out his wallet, withdrawing from it a five and a ten. “Thanks for reminding me.” Harmonic took the cash and put it in his pocket, “So I would expect you to be here next week?” “Yeah, I can defiantly do that,” the two of them got to the front door to where they found Braeburn standing there with a black violin case. “Brae?” Soarin blinked, “What are you doing here?” His yellow friend held up his case, “Violin.” “Oh, cool,” Soarin Cloudline walked pass the front door and around the cowboy, “Later dude.” Braeburn waved back, with a smile and a nod, “You too,” before entering his teacher’s living room. “Well,” Harmonic said, getting his student’s attention, “How are you this afternoon?” “A bit tuckered out,” he said, following his teacher towards the piano. “Had chores ta be taken care of this mornin’, but Ah think Ah can still play.” “In that case, take a seat on the couch; I’ll go get my violin.” While his teacher was going up the stairs, Braeburn did as he was instructed and took a moment to look around at his surroundings while he was opening his case. For the Apple Farmer, Braeburn didn’t know what to expect from his music teacher’s home would be like. Since he never really met anybody like himself, he wasn’t sure if Harmonic’s home followed any of the clichés of flamboyance when it comes to people of their orientation. However, looking around inside his actual home, the only word that came to Braeburn’s mind was… tasteful, and never to the point where it’s overdone. Footsteps were heard as the student turned to see Harmonic with his signature coffin case, “So, before we jump to today’s lesson, are there any questions you have for me?” he asked as he placed the case on the piano. “How’s Soarin?” Braeburn inquired. “What, at his lessons or in general?” He shrugged, “The latter, Ah guess.” “Well, he was a little hurt about what happened at the recital, but I’ve given him some advice to cheer him up a bit.” Then a thought came to the farmer’s mind, “Mr. H, Y'all didn’t tell him about me… did ya?” “Why would I do that?” Harmonic flipped open his case, “I don’t have much of a say when it comes to these sorts of things unless asked directly. So no, I didn’t tell him about your crush on him, I consider that to be rude.” He gave a relieved sighed, “Thanks. Ah figured to let him know would be too soon.” “Understandable,” his teacher took out his violin, “Any other questions?” “Well… A few things, and it’s out of curiosity,” Braeburn pointed at his teacher’s instrument, “Fer starters, about yer fiddle.” “What about it?” “Ah’ve noticed that whenever yer playin’ that, it… how do Ah say this…? It sounded different from the other violins Ah’ve heard, but Ah can’t put mah finger on why.” “Ah, your hunch is right actually, this violin is indeed different in a very special way.” “How so?” he tilted his head. “Can you keep a secret?” his yellow student nodded, “there’s a good reason why this is so special. It’s a kind of family heirloom because who I’m related to. You see Mr. Apple, this violin is very old. In fact,” he gently handed the instrument over to his student, “take a look inside the sound box.” Braeburn put his violin down and examined his teacher’s, “Ah think it’s in Latin. Wait… 1724? Man, you weren’t kiddin’.” Harmonic nodded, “But there’s a name of the maker, do you see it?” “Ah’m not sure… Antonio… Antonio Strad… Why does the name Stradivari sound familiar?” “It should. Braeburn, what you are holding in your hands is a violin that’s worth millions because that right there is the most perfectly made violin ever created.” Braeburn’s eyes widen, looking at the violin in his hands, to his teacher, and back again, “Millions, this little thing?” “As a family heirloom,” Harmonic clarified. “I’m related to him not by blood, but by marriage in my family tree. And when my father took pride in making instruments too… I guess it’s something to brag about, huh?” His student gave a low whistle as he handed the priceless violin back to him, “Y’all must have really lucky parents, Mr. H.” Harmonic frowned, “Yes… I guess you could say that. Anything else you want to talk about, or do you want to just jump right in with your lessons?” “Now you’ve mentioned it,” Braeburn rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah guess Ah need some advice myself.” “Oh? On what exactly.” His student’s cheeks had a light tint of pink, “Well sir, ever since Soarin’s breakup, Ah’ve been a-thinkin' about tellin’ him fer real this time. Ah know you’d said to tell ‘em when the time is right but… uh… A-Ah’ve been havin’ doubts.” “Like what?” “You see, given all that’s happen to him, Ah know it ain’t right ta tell him somethin’ that’s earthshatterin’ when he had both his feelings and his pride been smashed like a fake crystal ball that has fallen off the high shelf. Course, Ah check up on ‘em every so often ta see if he really needs some cheerin’ up. But, Ah’ve been wonderin’ somethin’ that Ah personally don’t wanna think about.” “What’s that?” “Remember when Ah said that Ah don’t think he’ll return mah feelings fer me?” His teacher nodded, “Something like that.” “Ah’ve been thinkin’, what if it’s true? What if it’s completely pointless, that Ah like like Soarin, but he won’t feel tha same because he really is straight? After all, how can Ah handle being put down by ‘em, when Ah know he’s gonna do it gently?” Harmonic gave a sad laugh, the farmer noticed this so his teacher said, “Sorry, it’s just for a moment there, you sounded like Color there?” Braeburn tilted his head, “Ah did?” “You see, before he met me, he had the same problem. That he too would have crushed with other guys, only to either find out that they’re either straight or weren’t interested in him. If he were here, he would probably tell you that, even if Soarin doesn’t feel the same way, it won’t be the end of the world. “And from personal experience, before I knew Color, I had given all hope of anyone falling in love with me. I too had my heart not just broken but shattered by a bully that I had a crush on. At the time, I thought that love was something that other, normal people could only have, and mine was… a fantasy. This I can tell you Braeburn, that when you’ve convinced yourself that nobody will ever love you, and have been alone for so long, I bet that even you too can’t help but dream.” His student nodded, “Ah do sir.” “However, sometimes it takes patience, and arguably, a little luck might find someone that will tell you that they love you. Perhaps it’ll come from Soarin or somebody else. I guess all I can say on the matter that even when worse comes to worst, have a bit of hope that someone will fall for you.” Braeburn nodded, “Thank you, sir,” grabbed his violin, “So anyways, what do we do now?” “For starters, you need to decide on what you’re going to play. Any idea on what exactly?” “Hang on a sec,” his student reached into his pockets and pulled out a folded up sheet music, all of which was written down by hand. “What about this?” Raising an eyebrow, Harmonic unfolded the music and scanned it, “This looks familiar, what is it?” “It’s somethin’ mah Ma loves. Some love song from an opera by some Italian fella whose name Ah can’t pronounce. But Ah think it’s from… somethin’ butterfly?” The Violinist looked at the music again and guessed, “Madame Butterfly?” Braeburn snapped his fingers, “Yeah! That’s it,” his teacher gave a weary moan. “What?” “That’s why it looked familiar. Don’t get me wrong, this is a good song you’ve chosen, but…” Harmonic shook his head, “I’m guessing that you have no idea what the actual opera is about?” His student shook his head, “Opera really ain’t ma thing.” “Well, Puccini’s Madame Butterfly is a story about a teenage girl from Japan who had an arranged marriage with an American sailor, who is actually older then she is… Yeah I know, but just hear me out. Before she gets married, she disavowed her Japanese customs and even family to be with the sailor. However, the American was forced to return home, leaving the fifteen year old pregnant. While he’s gone for three years, she optimistically waits for her husband to return while everyone else tries to tell her that he may not be that into her. Well, when the sailor finally comes back, he tells her that he found another wife in America, and wants to take her son to be raised by him and his new wife. Since she can’t really go back to her old ways and finding out that her husband never really loved her back, she commits suicide at the end.” His student sat there in silence before responding, “That’s… kinda dark.” “It’s opera so… what can you do? Don’t get me wrong Mr. Apple, this aria is perfectly fine and all. But the only thing I have against it isn’t so much the music, because it does have some stunning pieces that are timeless, it’s the story that I don’t like so much.” “Oh, Ah see.” “So then,” Harmonic placed the sheet music on the stand on the piano, “Let’s play this through together, shall we?” _*_ The next night, the music teacher was already finished preparing his dinner. He figured that since his last lessons for the day end by the time he usually has dinner, he might as well start cooking it. Once the crust was golden brown and the mix for the chicken pot pie had been poured in and sealed with the thin crust, he popped it into the oven. A couple of minutes later, his doorbell rang. Harmonic answered the door to find (to his confusion) both Lyra and Bon Bon there. “Ms. Drops and Ms. Heartstrings?" he turned to the curly hair girl, "I thought your lesson is about thirty minutes from now.” “It is,” she informed him, “Lyra had a bunch of things that she needed to do so I offered to help her for the whole day. And since our music lessons are at the same time, I thought, ‘why not just go together,’ and here we are.” Their teacher shrugged, “Very well, come inside you two. Lyra, did you by change bring a harp with you?” “Yeah, it’s in the back of the car… would you help us getting it out first?” their teacher rolled his eyes but complied. Walking over to the car, Lyra popped the truck where a black mass of a case was in. “How did you two get this thing in here in the first place?” the Violinist asked as he helped pulled and lift the case out. “Bonnie does puzzles in her spare time,” the mint student said, “Oh, and a little bit of magic helps.” She pointed her finger at a seat belt that was caught on the case’s hedges where a light green aura help set it free. “I’ll never understand you kids and your magic,” Harmonic set the case on the ground, which now made it easier for the three of them to carry it into his living room. “Right then, which one of you is going first?” “You can go first,” Bon Bon told her, taking a seat on the couch. Lyra nodded, and took out from her bag some sheet music and placed them on the piano. Her teacher went around and peered at what it was. “Ah, Clair de Lune by Mousier Debussy, I’m guessing this is what you’re planning on practicing for the whole summer?” “Well duh, why else would I bring it?” “She’s been practicing on it for a week now,” Sweetie Drops added. “Okay,” Harmonic sat down on the piano bench, “Show me what you got.” She did, however, as she started to play the first three notes, their teacher interrupted, “Slower.” “Huh?” “Do it again, but a tad slower.” Lyra placed her hands on the harp again and started to play a touch slower. Every-so-often, she would miss a few notes, but even then, the Violinist didn’t say anything as she played. Of course, he was making mental notes over the mistakes that were being made and peered through the pattern to see how to approach what kind of lessons that Lyra will need in the coming months. Once his student had finished, Harmonic hummed in thought, “Okay. I do see that you have put some effort into this. I confess, it’s not exactly perfect, but I do see what we can work on.” “Like what?” He asked her to play it again, every few bars or so, she would pause while he would either give her tips or point out where the correct notes where by playing the keys on the piano. After going over almost half-an-hour dissecting the piece Lyra called for a rest. Harmonic looked at the clock on the mantel, “You still have a few minutes before switching over to your friend there.” “Sure thing Mr. H,” the mint musician said, “Oh, I’ve nearly forgotten, how are you?” He shrugged, “Just fine, why?” She looked over to the confectionist sitting on the couch before returning to him, “Well… I guess the first thing that both Bonnie and I wanna say is sorry.” Harmonic raised an eyebrow, “Over what, putting candy on my desk?” They nodded, “Yeah, we’re sorry if we offended ya over it.” He sighed, “Lyra, Sweetie, believe it or not, I know that it was a nice offering on your behalves, and I’m not upset over it anymore.” “But, we both know what it’s like to lose someone,” Lyra told him, “Or at least, Bonnie does. We know it totally sucks when someone close to you passes and all. Heck, I had enough time to get her to smile for a while.” Their teacher turned to his other student, “Who was it?” “Uncle Liquorish, he may not make the best candy in the world, but he was the best when I was a kid,” she put a finger in one of her curls. “Be it birthdays, Christmas, or any excuse to celebrate where there where kids around, he would put so much effort to make it all seem magical for each and every one of us. He would go out of his way to get the best gifts, our favorite cakes, and if he couldn’t afford whatever, he would improvise with whatever he had. When the news came that he died, it was as if that sort of magic was gone. “To tell ya the truth, in my darkest of moments and on the saddest of days, I’m thankful that Lyra was right there, you know? At the time, I thought she was annoying when she brought me stuff, but I needed it. You see Mr. H when we did the whole basket thing; we did it because we know that a little kindness does help a long way. We were just trying to get you to open up a bit.” “I see,” Harmonic nodded. Getting up from the piano bench and sat down across from her, “Firstly, I must say that you’re right, looking back, those sweets did help brighten up my day a bit, so thank you. Secondly, I suggest you probably want to keep her around,” he thumbed over to Lyra, “someone who has been loyal in times of grief means that you have a true friend to hold on to.” Both girls snickered, much to the Violinist’s confusion, so naturally, he asked what, “I’m not sure if you’re aware,” Lyra said, “I and Bonnie have been dating for well over a year now.” “Oh,” Harmonic looked between them, “well, my congratulations then you two.” “Eh, it was nothing,” the Harpist waved, “After all, as it turns out; it’s actually pretty easy when your best friend has quite the sweet tooth for-” “Lyra!” Sweetie Drops marshmallow white cheeks took on a shade of cheery. “Please, not in front of the teacher.” “What? That I can’t compliment you?” “I believe she’s saying that there are a time and place for flirting,” their teacher told them. “But at any rate, I think it’s time I turn over to your sweetheart for her lessons now.” As she got up, Bon Bon noticed that there was a pleasant smell in the air “Is something cooking?” “Oh, that’s my dinner; it should be done by the time the two of you leave.” He got up and waved over to the piano, “So, what kind of music are you planning on playing?” The candy maker reached into her girlfriend’s bag and pulled out a book, “Erik Satie’s Gymnopedies, not bad.” Harmonic nodded in approval. “Well, take a seat, and let’s hear you play.” _*_ Weeks went by, Harmonic saw the ebb and flow of students that would appear like phantoms and disappear just as quickly. He had to endure the sour notes and missing beats, but at least that each teenager was trying their best at what they were trying to practice. With every passing day, with every student returning weekly, there was clear evidence that they were committing their chosen melody to memory. By the end of June, Cloudline’s lesson had ended on a positive (and rather loud) note as he crashed the symbols. “Nicely done,” Harmonic nodded in approval. “That was much better than last week.” “Thanks, Mr. H,” Soarin spin the drumsticks in his hands. “I can’t wait to play these beats for something.” “Like a cover?” “Yeah, but I’m still trying to figure out which one though. There are a lot of good ones that I could probably play with.” “Understandable,” Harmonic looked at his watch, “Looks like time is up anyway. So for next week, make sure you’ve chosen what song you want to cover for and be sure to bring thirty dollars next time since you didn’t bring any today.” Soarin grunted, “I said I was sorry, I’ve forgotten what day it was.” “But at any rate,” his teacher turned to the door that leads towards the hallway, “I’ll see you next week.” For the athlete, he started to use the garage door as making an exit. However, as the Violinist closed the door behind him, he immediately went up to the button by the light switch to open it, but instead of leaving, he paused for a moment to close it again. The reason was that he was curious about his best friend’s playing. Also, this would be the perfect opportunity to hear how his lessons were any different from his own. A few minutes later, he heard Braeburn’s car pull up into the driveway, and he could hear from the garage open and close his door before walking up to the door. Soarin put an ear to the door frame to hear Harmonic greet the farmer. At this, as gently as he could, he opened the door slowly before he entered into the hallway, leaning his back against the walls, and was thankful for the carpet floors to quiet his footsteps. “The good news is that Ah was able to get it to memory,” he heard his best friend say. “All of it?” his teacher asked as the athlete heard him opening and closing the piano bench. “If that were true, put this on.” “A blindfold? What do Ah need this thing for?” Soarin crept closer, inching his way down the hall, all the while, trying to remain out of sight. “It’s a little technique that I was taught with,” their teacher explained, “After I memorized a piece on the violin, I was blindfolded to see if I really did commit to memory. It helps you focus more on the music you’re playing, and it also helps your finger positions as well.” “Uh, okay.” By now, Soarin peaked around a corner to where he saw his friend tying on a black cloth over his eyes. “Can you see anything?” his teacher asks. “Nothin’ at all,” Braeburn reached for his violin and bow on the piano, tumbling a bit to get his hands in the right position. “Come to think of it,” his teacher adds as he flipped open some music sheets on the piano stand. “I think there’s also a practical reason for the blindfold.” “What’s that?” “It helps you focus on your feelings,” he explained at he opened up the piano keys. “After all, I’ve noticed that when you play this, you tend to make it soft and light, but there’s no backbone to it. And you know what kind of song this is, right?” “It’s a love song,” the yellow farmer stated. This got Soarin’s attention, ‘Hello. He’s gonna play love song?’ Harmonic nodded, “Not just that, but if you read the actual lyrics in English, you’ll find that this aria is actually a song of longing. It’s where that Madame Butterfly looks out to sea, and daydreams about her husband’s return. And I think you know what such longingness feels like.” Braeburn nodded, “From mah crush, it’s practically an everyday occurrence.” Soarin raised an eyebrow, ‘So he does have one!’ he thought, ‘It’s kinda about time anyway. Wonder who the guy is?’ “So, how about we do an exercise,” their teacher suggested, “Since this is about a love song, and you’ve said that you know the notes already, I want you to imagine that you’re singing this. But instead of using your voice, I want your fingers to do all the singing. In fact, just picture for a moment that I’m not even here. Clear your mind of everyone and everything that you’re thinking right now. “Yet, imagine for a moment that you’re in an empty theater and you’re in the spotlight. Among all the empty seats, there is one that is occupied. I guess you know who it is?” “Soarin,” Braeburn nodded. This caught the blue athlete off guard. He quickly ducked back into the hallway, ‘Hold on, did Brae of all people just said that he has a crush on me? I mean I know he swings that way but… with me?’ “Very good,” Harmonic’s voice was heard, “he is right there in that lonely theater, ready to listen to you. Now, think of this moment as the perfect opportunity to put everything you feel about him into every single note. So that the sound of love must always be present, understand?” “Yes’m,” the cowboy said. “Ready when you are,” for a moment, the stunned athlete heard nothing. But then, a sweet note from his friend’s violin started to sing with the piano complementing it. Soarin stood there, his back against the painted walls as he hears Braeburn’s musical confession. He was mentally kicking himself for not seeing this sooner. That he hadn’t considered the possibility that Braeburn might like him in such a way. So now, he felt like a really big idiot, all the while thinking: ‘Ah crap, what now? What could I possibly do now? I don’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings… or… have I been doing that all along? Man, some guy I am.’ Soarin paused as he listens in to the music. His teacher was right; this really was a song of longing. He could hear from his friend’s violin that there was loneliness, uncertainty, but there was hope in the notes. The melody paints a kind of dream with sound that wishes that Soarin would somehow share those complex emotions, thoughts and life with him. Braeburn’s violin delivered a passion that Soarin had never heard of before. None of the girlfriends that came to mind had tried to flirt or woo him in the musical language that he was playing. He peeked his head around, and his eyes went wide to see that where his friend’s eyes should be, he saw tears that soaked through the blindfold and trailed its way down his cheek. Yet, Braeburn still pressed on, playing out the flawless, dreamlike music to an imaginary him. At this point, Soarin softly stepped out, taking cautious steps to not interrupt such a performance for him. Fortunately, Harmonic’s eyes were focused on the sheet music as his student played his heart out, seemingly unaware that there was a third person in the room at first. Soarin stayed at a comfortable distance, memorized at what he was hearing. At one point, near the end of the song, Harmonic sensed that someone was behind him, and was almost startled out of his seat to find that his previous student was in the same room as they were. But as their teacher noted, Soarin’s expression was that of guilt, and not realizing that he’s being seen. At the end of Braeburn’s song, Harmonic finished off his bit until the piano was quiet. The yellow student lowered his bow, “So,” he asked, “how’d Ah do?” “That was really good,” at the sound of this third, familiar voice, the cowboy frozen, “I mean just… wow,” the voice added. Quickly taking off his blindfold, Braeburn jumped a good twelve feet, “SOARIN!” he clenched at his instrument, “W-What are Y'all doin’ here…? No, scratch that, how long have ya been standin’ there?” “I’ve… pretty much heard everything,” his friend confessed. Braeburn took a quick glare at his teacher, “Hey, don’t look at me,” Harmonic lifted his hands, “I thought that he’d already left.” “Um… Brae,” Soarin said, putting his hand over his neck, “Can we talk?” His friend didn’t respond, their teacher, however, took this to go upstairs, leaving the two of them alone. Soarin sat on the couch and waved for him to sit. He did so, but only across from him. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them before the blue athlete spoke, “So… How long has this been going?” Braeburn shrugged, “Don’t know… Jr. High?” he said softly. He sighed, “Brae, why didn’t you tell me? Did you think that I would be upset or something?” “Aren’t ya?” “Dude, no. Of course, I’m not mad at you or anything… it’s just that I’m stupid for not seeing this coming really.” The apple farmer looked at the ground, “Soar… Ah’m… Ah’m so sorry.” “For what? You just happen to like, like me. I know you can’t help it.” “But… with you? How could Ah? Ah know there’s no chance you’d like me back. Knowin’ you, yer gonna find some girl that probably won’t appreciate you like me.” “How’d you know?” Soarin asked, and this surprised him as this would be the first thought to come out of his mouth. “Dude, yer straight. There’s no way it’ll work, even if we tried.” Soarin placed a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon man, don’t be like that. Like I said, I’m not mad at ya. If anything… in a… weird sort of way, I’m flattered.” This got his friend to look up at him, “I-I mean, it’s an interesting thought that I was able enough to turn a guy on.” "Dude!" Braeburn’s cheeks flushed at this comment. His friend chucked, “What? Do you know how kinda cool it is that I’m good looking enough to even have you appreciate these good looks of mine.” “It ain’t just about that,” Braeburn shook his head, “Soar, to me, you’re the kindest guy Ah know. You’re loyal, honest, and you laugh at things that Ah’m too scared to be laughin’ at. As a person who stays with me through better or worse, you stayed at mah side no matter what. You’ve accepted me when Ah came out to ya, stood up ta me against bullies back in Jr. High, and even in the darkest moments, Y'all somehow gives me a reason to smile.” He paused for a moment, “This is gettin’ cheesy, isn’t it?” Soarin blinked, “Do I really mean that much to you?” He sighed, “Actually… yeah, and much more. Soarin…. Ah…” at this point, he lifted his wrist to wipe away the tears swelling in his eyes. “Ah don’t wanna lose you. Ah wish that Ah could be given a chance ta show ya how much more you really deserve. Soar, none of yer girlfriends could see that you should to be treated like a god from all the joy you just give away. That yer not this good lookin’ guy that’s all looks and no personality. You have a voice that someone should listen, and whenever yer heart gets shattered, have someone to be there to put the pieces back.” As Braeburn spoke, something in Soarin felt warm. He couldn’t explain it right away, but he could swear that his heart was beating slightly faster as his friend was complimenting him. ‘What is going on?’ He thought but shook it off as he said… well; he didn’t know what exactly to say. But his friend continued, “To tell ya the truth… no… forget it.” “What?” The farmer shook his head, “You’d never agree to it.” “To what?” He looked up at him, “Ya know… sometimes Ah had thought about… datin’ ya.” Soarin’s eyebrow raised up, “Would kinda daydream what it might be like since you’ve gone to many of them, that Ah would wonder what it’ll be like to actually do it with someone you’d care about.” “Would you go out with me?” this question caught both of them completely off guard, both for the reason that Soarin had those words coming out of his mouth without giving a second thought. “What?” The athlete cleared his throat, “I mean, why not? Grant it, I’ve never dated a dude before.” Braeburn starred at him, “Are you bein’ serious right now?” “Yeah man, I’m dead serious. If it were any other guy, I wouldn’t. But if it was you… I… guess I could give it a try.” There was something in those jade eyes that somehow shown brighter than normal, “Soar… Ah… Ah don’t know what ta say!” “How about a time and place?” “Oh, right,” Braeburn laughed, “Uh… How about the Fourth of July? When they’re shootin’ off the fireworks and we’d see it on the farm?” “Cool,” Soarin agreed, “And that’s what? Next Thursday?” He nodded, “Soar, this is… well… thank you.” “No problem buddy. I think it’s about time you’ve started dating, so what better way than somebody like me?” The cowboy snorted, “And here Ah thought that Ah was the gay one.” “Oh shut up,” Soarin playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Anyways, I guess I better start heading out.” “Yeah,” Braeburn smiled, “See ya later.” “You too.” Cloudline started to bet up, and before he could head to the door, he heard Braeburn say, "Uh Soar?" "Hm?" The cowboy looked up at him with a genuine smile, "Thanks. Fer doin' this for me." Soarin messed up his hair for a moment, "Like I've said, no prob. See ya on the fourth." And with that, the blue athlete walked out the door. Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, a thought accorded to him that gave the Wondercolt a moment to pause, ‘Wait… why did I just agreed to go out with Brae?’