Meteronome of Love

by JN

Verse Five: Sostenuto

Out of the question. Impossible. Absurd. This girl was nuts.

"I can't do that."

I wore an expression of dead seriousness as I regarded Octavia Melody.

"Why not?" she asked in reply, tilting her head quizzically. "Surely, you brought your cello with you today for a reason?"

"Because you told me to!" I asserted quite violently as my eyes narrowed, "and because you didn't really leave me with a choice!"

"I didn't?"

Octavia stroked her chin pensively as she regarded me.

"But you showed up today, and followed my instructions exactly. Why choose now to resist?"

"Because—!"

...

I breathed in hard through my nose. No need to lose my cool.

"Because... I'm out of practice. And I don't remember how the song goes. And there's nowhere here to set up. And..."

I averted my gaze.

Octavia clicked her tongue. "Excuses. Lies, even. I don't appreciate that, Jaemin."

She took my chin between her fingers and forced me to look at her. Her expression told me she was not impressed or moved by my words.

"Out of practice? I can believe that. But not remembering the song?" She smiled. "When you recited the name of it perfectly yesterday, despite only hearing it and not seeing me play with sheet music?"

I froze.

"As for a place to set up a chair and stopper for your endpin, rest assured, we will not be digging any holes into the soil here. It would be rude to the gardeners, after all."

"Then..."

I swallowed. "Then where would you have me play?"

She looked me as though the answer was obvious. "The Academy, obviously. Where else?"

...

What?

"Please," I took a deep breath, "slow down. What exactly do you mean by that?"

She sighed. Hey, what's that look that so clearly says "This dolt..." on your face for?!

"The Canterlotte Academy of Art and Culture. I believe you've heard of it?"

The Academy, she says. Octavia cut it down quite intensively from it's actual name— though, I suppose just the two words are enough when it comes to such a prestigious institution. Of course I've heard of it. I know it better than anyone. That place used to be like a second home to me, after all.

"Ahem." I cleared my throat self-importantly, returning Octavia's smug gestures back to her. "And how do you propose I play there? It's an hour by train, and I'm out of money." I smiled haughtily, "Sorry, but it looks like you're gonna have to—"

"Oh, perish the thought, Jaemin. You think this wasn't in my calculations?" She pointed towards the road outside the gates of the park. "Look over there."

An impossibly long, slick, black limousine. The kind you only ever saw in movies.

That was... her's?

"Eh?" I stared like an idiot.

"Our ride," Octavia stated, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Now, I believe you know how to properly stow an instrument into a vehicle, yes?"

---

By car, it would take less than thirty minutes to reach Canterlotte. The travel time was etched into my heart, after all, from all the times I came and went from the Academy when I was younger.

I sat across from Octavia in that limousine with it's overabundance of interior space. It felt less like we were sitting in a long corridor more than a moving vehicle.

And for the first time that day, a wave of sudden emotion rushed up to meet me.

Why didn't I think this through?

This is the Octavia Melody, just like Alexis said. Known around the country by now, an emerging musical superstar. Her face was on posters, her interviews written into magazines, her music heard by every set of ears that could still listen. She was the new face of contemporary classical performance— a genius capable of drawing the most sublime sound out of any instrument.

Yet I came out to meet her, like a complete and utter fool. What exactly was I doing here? What was I trying to prove? Was this just to appease Alexis? So that I could tell her later that I did as she asked, and we could make up?

No. While that was part of it, I would be lying to myself if I said it was completely for her sake.

Despite the redness in my ears and my inability to look at Octavia Melody any further than from above her knees, a strong feeling pulled at my heart.

She pulled at my heart. In a way I didn't even know was possible. Her commanding tone, her aggression— she unfairly moved me in ways I couldn't begin to describe.

That imposing feeling scared me, so I needed to find out what she was up to. Who she was, why she needed me to play for her.

I opened my mouth, "You know—"

She cleared her throat loudly, interrupting my attempt to speak.

"Could you please look at me when you're talking? It's quite rude not to, you know."

Erk... she got me there. I reluctantly straightened my back.

"You know..." I tried again, slowly, so as not to stumble over my words, but also closely watching her face for any changes, "I wasn't kidding. I really can't play the cello. I know I brought it with me today, but I only happened to have it at home. Nothing more to it."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "You really take me for a fool, don't you?"

I blinked once. "Um?"

"Explain to me then," Octavia's brow furrowed as she crossed one leg over the other, "why you can't play."

I paused. She really could see right through my lies. There was no point in even trying it.

"I can't." I averted my eyes. Holding her gaze was painful while saying such a thing.

"...hear it. I can't hear the cello. I haven't been able to hear the notes of my own instrument... for years now."

I paused with bated breath. Waiting for the insults to begin raining down upon me. The bombardment of questions. My entire body braced for sticks and stones.

"And what of it?"

She spoke again. Betraying my own fears, I glanced back at her.

Her mouth was tight-lipped, but her lavender eyes gazed upon me with a look I couldn't put my finger on.

"Play anyway."

I stared at her with my mouth agape. Did she just hear a word I said?

"I don't think you understand," I asserted, sitting straight up now. My hands turned into fists on my knees. "I can't hear the cello. I don't care if you don't believe me, but it's true!"

"When did I say I didn't believe you?" Octavia clicked her tongue. "Taking me for the fool again, Song. I'm not as shallow as you think."

"Wh—"

I could feel irritation rising from the depths of my heart. What was with this girl? How was she doing this? Betraying all my expectations? Pushing buttons I didn't even know I had?

"Did you think, perhaps, because of your unique circumstances," she leaned forward, not letting my eyes go with her intense gaze, "that I—no, that the world of music would go easy on you?"

She wasn't making any sense. How does a musician who can't hear his own instrument even begin to fathom the very act of performance itself? What did the world of music have to do with me, a failed musician?

Insanity.

"You are making a grave mistake in your thinking, Jaemin. Listening is not everything in music."

She held up a finger. "Ever hear of Anton Rubenstein?"

I hesitantly nodded. The Russian pianist, composer and conductor who became a pivotal figure in Russian culture when he founded the Saint Petersburg Conservatory. "I've heard his compositions a few times—"

Octavia sighed heavily.

"I applaud your broad range of taste, but that's not what I mean. I refer to his words, which I quote:"

"Before your fingers touch the keys, you must determine in your mind..."

"..How you're going to play it," I finished for her.

She looked upon me with satisfaction. "So you know it after all."

I averted my eyes. The spaciousness of the limousine felt like barely enough room for one person when I engaged in conversation with this anomaly.

"We're here," she spoke, gazing outside the window.

I paused and looked as well. A sickeningly familiar sight greeted me.

Tall, imposing columns lining a large, stone staircase leading into the entrance of an important looking building. A busy looking crowd of people, loitering around the steps. Scattered students with their faces buried into sheet music, entering and exiting through the front doors. A few kids with their parents, who had come to the conservatory for private lessons. Ever since I was a child, the Academy truly felt larger than life. The main building housed the Academy's wide concert hall as well, explaining the need for such size.

I swallowed.

This was a mistake. This was such a mistake. I can't do this. All sorts of unpleasant memories are rising up to devour me like quicksand.

Yet as I thought those things, my feet had already stepped out onto the pavement. My feet still remembered the sensation of those flat, stone stairs. Ones that I used to climb with timidness, then fervor, then with the autonomy of a robot.

My cello case was shoved into my hands by Octavia's chauffeur. At a dismissive wave of her hand, he returned to the driver's seat, closed the door, and the limousine pulled away.

I could immediately hear voices. No, it wasn't just because the front of the Academy entrance was bustling with people. I knew what these voices were saying. Almost like second nature.

"Isn't that...?"

"Oh my god, oh my god! Do you think I can get a picture?"

"Way ahead of you, girl..."

Standing next to this primed social media gossip material gave me quite an uncomfortable feeling.

"Do you hear them, Jaemin?" Octavia asked, looking up at the tall columns of the front entrance.

I sighed. "Yeah, yeah. You're famous, after all."

She shot me a look. "Please don't tell me you're actually that stupid."

Huh?

The black-haired girl, looking quite annoyed now, snapped her fingers in my face. "Stop hearing only what you want to hear, Song."

What the hell did she mean by that? And did she have to say it so rudely?

But sure enough, as Octavia Melody said those words, the whisperings and chatter did indeed reach my ears.

"Song...?"

"He's back!"

"No way—"

"But the rumors—"

"Six whole years!—"

Octavia smiled when she saw my face as she began walking forwards.

"Welcome home, Jaemin Song. Today..."

At the top of the stairs, she turned around and extended a hand towards me. Her slender fingers beckoned with a force stronger than anything I'd ever felt in my life.

"I'll have you play for me, no matter what."

---

"Miss Melody!" An important looking man in a stuffy black suit waddled up to us as we entered the doors of the Caterlotte Academy of the Arts and Culture. "Just where on earth have you been?"

"My sincere apologies, Headmaster," Octavia smiled with a sweetness so transparent and fake that it made me think of plastic, "I simply stepped out for some fresh air and lost track of time. Please excuse me."

"Yes, yes, of course..." He pulled out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed away some sweat. "Well, you certainly are back within time— I never doubted, of course— but you understand—"

She brushed some hair out of her eyes and smiled confidently. "But of course. The children's recital is still ongoing, yes?"

"You see, Headmaster..." Octavia pulled me forward by the cuff of my shirt. "I happen to have found the perfect stand-in today!"

Both I and the headmaster stood flabbergasted at her words, speaking at the same time. "Stand-in?!"

What on earth was this crazy girl going on about now?! A stand in for a recital? That was out of the question!

The headmaster of the Academy seemed to be thinking the same thing. I was beginning to worry that he'd render his own handkerchief useless by overusing it. It looked drenched with sweat already.

"Now see here, Miss Melody!" He exhaled indignantly, "You can't make last minute arrangements like this all on your own! The children are expecting the Octavia Melody today, not..."

And for the first time, he looked in my direction. "Er..."

I cleared my throat, feeling it was best to speak for myself in this situation. "Song, sir. Jaemin Song."

His eyes practically bulged out of their sockets at that. "Jae— you— wh— you mean?—"

"That's exactly who he means, Headmaster." Octavia put a hand on my shoulder. "Now while I'm sure the children would be delighted to see my face again for the 3rd time this month, might I suggest changing things up a bit? A chance like this does not pass us up very often, wouldn't you agree?"

The Headmaster paused, clutching his wet handkerchief in deep thought. "I suppose... well— certainly, I mean— there is no time like the present... still!"

He looked up at me with narrowed, as if blaming me for this sudden turn of events. Hey, I want you know I had no part in this change of plans, old man!

"You!"

Me.

"What on earth have you been doing the past six years?! For you of all people to be—"

"Now now, Headmaster." Octavia stepped in between us, smiling all sickly sweet like that again. "We don't have much time before the current performer finishes, do we? Let's hurry to the backstage now."

Though she didn't stand taller than either of us, Octavia Melody pushed us both along the corridors of the conservatory with such conviction that neither of us could oppose her.

I leaned back and shot her a look, mouthing the words—

What's the big idea?!

She regraded me for a moment, then went back to staring forwards as we walked towards the back of the hall. Her eyes shone with confidence that I could not locate the source of.

As we walked, I could hear a small voice reach my ears.

"Mommy, that's him isn't it?"

"Shush dear, don't bother the Headmaster..."

"I know it! I saw him in pictures!"

Her voice was becoming distant, but that child spoke directly to my heart.

"I get to hear him today? For realsies? I'm so excited!"

---

And so we moved into the back area of the conservatory, where an assortment of waiting rooms, fitting rooms, and practice spaces were strewn about.

"Now don't worry about a thing, Headmaster." Octavia had her hand on the large man's shoulder. "I'll brief Mister Song here on the whole situation, so would you mind entertaining the audience briefly?"

The stuffy headmaster batted her hand away. "Entertain! As if it's my job to do such a thing! Miss Melody, you are truly—"

"Please?" Those puppy dog eyes again. I wonder how exactly she pulled it off.

The man paused, glaring at her, before sighing and straightening his dress coat. "I suppose as a leading figure in this establishment, I ought to give the children a decent talking to..."

He made his way towards the door leading to the stage, but stopped to glare at me. "Five minutes. Understand?"

I gulped and nodded as the tail of his coat disappeared behind a closed door.

---

"Are you out of your mind?!"

I had Octavia Melody against the wall as soon as we were behind the doors to the practice room.

"What exactly are you trying to pull here?" I spoke without being able to hold back my aggression. "Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

She looked back at me unflinchingly despite the position I had her in.

"I could ask you the same thing, Jaemin. What makes you so sure you can't play? Have you even tried?"

Octavia put a hand on my chest and pushed. I reflexively stepped away as she crossed her arms.

"That's not— That's not fair— You just—"

I could barely speak through my anger.

She sighed. "The Children's Recital. It's a weekly event where the younger students at the Academy can listen to the current repertoire of some of our selected performers. It's a very simple thing, really. Nothing to be worried about."

"Nothing to be worried about?!" My eyebrows furrowed. "You don't get it. I don't get you! Why are we here? Why are you doing this? Why me?" My hands tightened into fists as I made no effort to keep my voice down. "Can you explain even a single thing to me, Octavia?"

She glared at me. "I'm not interested in a shouting match, Song. There's a mirror right behind you. Take a look at yourself, why don't you?"

My heart was filled with nothing but contempt for this inexplicable girl, but I still did as she said and turned.

There I was. Jaemin Song was an average boy by all standards. I was a thin, wiry thing. My white shirt hung from me awkwardly like cloth on a scarecrow, and my hair was uncombed and messy from the shower I took earlier that day. My reflection stared back at me, and it occurred to me then that I never really took the time to mind my appearance with much care for a long time. I was not handsome, my clothes were not fashionable, my muscles hardly showed any sign of use, and I always thought the mole underneath my left eye was annoying.

Yet as I stood there with a cello strapped to my back, my ragged breath calmed, and my racing heart slowed.

...

"What do you want me to do?" A question both for Octavia and myself as we looked upon each other's reflections.

"What do you want to do, Jaemin?"

She stepped towards me.

"But since you're asking, my answer hasn't changed. I want you to play.

Produce a sound, Jaemin. Whether it's ugly, brutish, moody, uninspired, it doesn't matter. Make the kind of music only you can make."

I pointed my gaze downwards. Somehow, looking at Octavia behind me using a mirror felt cheap. "But I can't hear the notes, I already told you..."

Slowly, tentatively, I could feel her standing right behind me.

"Look at me."

With my head still hung, I turned to face her.

"Jaemin Song."

I stared at her shoes as we shared a moment of silence.

"I want you to know I'm not forcing you. I never did. Even today, you didn't have to meet me in that garden, yet you did. So if you truly feel like you can't do it, then run away if you want. I won't blame you. I'll even lend you money for the train."

I inhaled sharply. This pretenious little...!

"You—!"

"But know this, Jaemin." She sharply interrupted me.

I paused and, finding courage deep within myself, raised my gaze to meet her's.

"I still believe in you," she aaserted clearly and in no uncertain terms.

Her eyes pierced me. Somewhere in those deep, endless wells of purple and blue, there was a girl who said what she meant. Though she spoke confidently, I could see her lips tremble from the short distance that separated us.

"I still believe in you." She repeated. "So don't go thinking you can't do it just because you don't think you can. It's not a matter of 'can' or 'can't,' it's a matter of doing."

Octavia paused, her hands looking fidgety, as if they sorely wished to grab hold of something. "It takes courage, you know..."

"To sail into uncharted waters." I finished for her. She liked to talk all wise like a scholar, but that quote wasn't from Beethoven or Mozart or any significant historical mind, but rather...

"Couretsy of Snoopy." She finished, looking satisfied, and smiled. Not plastic-sweet, like she did to win the headmaster's favor, but in the most sincere manner that I could feel.

"Five minutes, like he said. Do whatever you need to do, Jaemin."

And as the door shut, all that remained was me.

...

What do you want to do?

Her voice echoed throughout my head like it traveled through an endless cave.

I made my choice deep within my heart as I walked to the door and gripped the metal handle. I'm going to run away.

In my current state, there's no way I could play in a way I could be proud of, even if in front of an audience of children. I was rusty, I most likely wouldn't even be able to play the piece off the top of my head, and in the end... who was I to take her place? Those children were obviously going to be seated with their parents, who paid no short amount of money to the Academy every year in tuition fees and did so with the hope that it would enrich their young ones. This institution had a reputation to uphold.

I'm not going up on that stage. Once they'll realize I'm gone, Octavia Melody will return to the stage. They'll be happy to see her. No one is interested in a washed up failure like me. I'm sure that's the case.

As these thoughts invaded my head, so did a multitude of brief flashes, containing...

"What on earth have you been doing for the past six years?"

A man who looked at me like a ghost, a relic of a time long gone.

"Why are you doing this to yourself again?!"

My childhood friend who knew what was best for me, or so I thought.

"I still believe in you."

An outrageous girl who had me by the collar at every step.

I was prepared to let them all down. Because the alternative would be much, much worse. I began turning the handle.

"I get to hear him play today? For realsies? I'm so excited!"

—I stopped.

The words of that little girl I passed in the hallway returned to me.

"Him?" Her mother had regarded me with something like disdain. "Sarah, don't go looking up to someone like that. They say he's a fraud. He dropped out six years ago, just because he couldn't take the pressure..."

"But mom, I heard him! We both heard him! He was on the TV, remember?"

She clapped excitedly, unable to contain a squeal of excitement. "I wanna be just like him!"

Idiot.

Why are you stopping?

You said you were going to run away.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot! Just open the door and leave!

Every fibre of my being was screaming at me to run. To leave today behind like an unpleasant memory. Forget that girl, forget her mother, forget the Canterlotte Academy of Art and Culture, forget Octavia Melody, forget everything! You did it once before, you can do it again!

But I couldn't.

My mind raced at a thousand miles every second.

I slowly stepped away from the door. My legs trembled, but not with fear.

Excitement.

My blood was boiling.

"It's not that you can't play, you just won't."

Octavia was in my head. Her voice remained in my mind and continued to whisper into my ears as I took my cello case off my back and began unpacking.

I extracted my bow, then my cello. I sat to check the strings and to apply a fresh layer of rosin to my bow. On the table in front of me was a copy of the sheet music, Suites á Violoncello Solo senza Basso.

Johann Sebastian Bach's six Cello Suites.

Prelude. The first of the six. The most well known.

It was a simple song that lasted two pages and ran for 2 minutes and 46 seconds, give or take.

I'll do it. I'll play the piece.

I'll take these next five minutes to burn the notes fresh into my mind, then my fingers. I wouldn't be able to hear it, but if I consume the piece with my whole body, then it won't matter. Each finger and each movement is a sound I haven't heard in six years, but my instinct will patch up the rough places. I'll simply try and play to the best of my ability, even if the sheer act of performing a song you can't even hear is the height of absurdity.

I have to show them all that Jaemin Song is no more. That Octavia Melody's hopes are misplaced. That I'm a lost cause. That no child should ever look up to me.

Six years ago, I vanished without a trace from the scene of classical music. Today, I'll firmly plant and mark my grave with my playing. A message to everyone: that the cellist everyone once knew is long gone.

Surely, I'll be able to communicate that. After all...

"Music transcends words."

I spoke under my breath, smiling. No longer knowing who it was who owned that quote, no longer caring so much as the fact that Octavia said those words to me.

Thank you.

With this... maybe I can finally say goodbye.

And five minutes later, I stepped onto the stage.

Author's Note:

Sostenuto: to be played in a sustained and prolonged manner.

Comments

[Zapper Frost]

I feel like Octavia is just being a major troll in this