Meteronome of Love

by JN

Verse Six: Cantabile

"Jaemin..."

An impossibly gentle hand caressed my head. So soft that I could have mistaken it for the wind.

"Why do you play the cello?" My mother asked. "And for who?"

I looked down with misty eyes. My fingers were clenched tight against my bow, creating deep imprints of the wood into my hands.

"I don't..." I can feel myself trembling. A mix of frustration and confusion wells up within me, and a tear begins to crawl down the side of my red cheek. "I don't know, Mama..."

"There, there." More stroking. My nerves were being calmed with each motion. I hated being babied, but at the same time, my racing heart slowed to a steady pace under her guiding hand.

"We all make mistakes. It's part of life. Part of being human. You're not a robot after all, Jaemin."

She placed her hand on mine and squeezed tight.

"You're my boy. My perfect cellist. Now, lift your head and play it again, my little raison d'être."

I glanced up at her, sniffling back a tear. "What does that big word mean?"

Her smile was warm like a spring day.

"Oh, nothing special..."

---

Hey, Octavia Melody...

The girl I could never understand. The girl who moves me in mysterious ways. The girl with long, beautiful black hair, porcelain skin, a smile that can sometimes be as fake as plastic and other times melt my heart, and eyes that see both through me and at me.

Why did you tell me to play?

Why do you want to hear my music?

Even if it might be terrible?

Even if I'm here to commit suicide as a musician? Knowing I can't hear the notes?

These are all things I plan to ask you. I hope you're prepared, after dragging me around all this time. I promise that no matter what, I am going to get you back for this, Octavia!

With overconfident thoughts like that, I began to step forwards.

"Miss Melody is feeling a bit under the weather today, so she will be sitting amongst you today, kids!"

An excited chatter arose at that. Some of the children in the audience clambered in their seats to get a look at Octavia, who sat a few rows away.

"As such, please give a round of applause for..."

And once more, I was bathed in the brightness of the spotlight.

"Jaemin Song!"

The only sound in the hall were my footsteps, echoing and reverberating loudly in the acoustics of the grand hall.

A few claps. Clearly there was confusion amongst the crowd. The children who didn't know any better found themselves in a pickle when they were the only ones applauding.

"That's him, isn't it?"

"Sure looks different from the photos..."

"Idiot, that was six years ago! And this isn't a concert, so he's not in a tux or anything..."

"Wow, I can't wait!"

I couldn't figure out what kind of expression to wear as I stood before the small crowd of people. This was a weekly, non-formal event, so the hall wasn't packed like I was used to seeing. Perhaps that made the weight of what was about to happen even worse.

These were the people I was about to disappoint. Just these children, their parents, and a handful of curious onlookers were all that sat before me, yet their expecting eyes and words pierced me like bullets..

I took my seat, adjusting the height of my chair and the endpin on my cello so it sat comfortable between my knees.

And after all preparations were made, I let my hands fall to my side, hanging loosely and without feeling, as if my body had died.

Ah... I remember now.

This feeling.

The silence before a performance.

The air was thick with a feeling. So poignant it felt like you could grab it with your hands if you just reached far enough.

The moment before the conductor's baton came down. Before a pitcher threw the ball. Before the referee blows the whistle. Before the starting pistol is fired.

Octavia brought me here today to hear me play.

But for me, as someone who can no longer do that...

I am here to die.

I raise my arms, my left on those steel strings, my right holding the bow loosely with four fingers. Bach's Prelude. The first of the great cello suites. Musical masterpieces. If I played well, in this moment, would I be able to hear it again? The notes?

I inhaled.

...

And with the release of my breath, my hands began to move.

I let myself sway into the unchanging rhythm of the Prelude. A steady piece which never needed a drastic shift in tempo or dynamics in order to convey a change of emotion, it was rather one of the fine examples of how notes and musical structure could dictate certain phrases, transform them into miniature and subtle expressions of sound and emotion.

Just as the sheet music in my mind dictated, I played each note in the time it was meant to be played. My fingers moved mechanically, almost against my will, even though the friction of the steel strings began to dig into my fingertips. The weight of my bow felt like a heavy stone in my right hand, my entire arm attacked with a familiar sensation that it was conversely not used to.

My body cried out, begging me to stop, desperately asking why I had decided to put it through the motions of playing cello when I had sworn off doing so for so long.

Yet I played.

The notes were garbled like a person trying to speak with their mouth full. Not a single phrase from Bach's composition shined in my mind's eye. The air around me was in sepia.

"Hey, this playing is a little..."

"Should the little ones be listening to this?"

"I thought he was preparing for a comeback. What a disappointment."

I was halfway through the piece. I couldn't tell by sound, but the metronome inside my head had counted nineteen measures. Twenty three left to go. Could I bear it? I had to steel my mind in order not to lose my place. If I couldn't remember what came next, I would have no point of reference. My ears reached out to grab the notes, but the only thing left was television static.

I couldn't put any feeling into my playing. Just keeping up with the score was taking everything I had. Sweat dripped obscenely from my forehead and hands, and it felt like the blood cells in my head would rupture any second.

This is wrong. This is wrong. I shouldn't be trying to play the cello. Why am I here? What am I doing? Why do I still try?

My hands were beginning to slow. There was no decrescendo written in the piece, yet I could feel my pace reducing with each measure.

I couldn't look up at the audience. My eyes were fixed on the bridge of my cello, the wooden piece where five steel strings stretched over like wool over my eyes.

"This is hopeless..."

"Where's Octavia? I came here to hear her..."

My body was beginning to seize up. Starting from my toes, crawling up my calves and towards my abdomen, the sensation that I had been touched by Midas' hand was beginning to take me. Like I was beginning to become stone.

Ah... I thought humorlessly to myself. You knew this would happen, wouldn't you?

Yet, you still tried. You met with Octavia Melody, followed her every whim, and you let her put you up on this stage.

At least Alexis isn't here to see me like this. That's good. In her eyes, I should just be the sad guy with no plans for life, her production assistant. That life is the only thing waiting for me after this performance. Well, if I make up with her, that is...

I'm sorry, Alex. Sorry, Octavia.

Lost in my thoughts, the sheet music vanished from my mind. My hands slowed to a stop, as did the song.

Sorry, mom. Sorry, me.

I did this to myself. By hoping. By expecting something.

Again.

I stared at the ceiling, my body and mind numb.

The same mistake.

"Is it over?"

"He didn't even finish..."

"Is it true that he can't hear himself anymore?"

"Can't be..."

A worried chatter spread throughout that small audience.

I was frozen in time. My bow still on the string. My hands came dangerously close to going slack, letting everything go, letting myself fall back into a deep hole...

"Don't stop!"

Like an electric shock, Octavia Melody's voice pierced my ears. I nearly jumped in my seat at the sudden noise.

"Don't you dare stop, Song!"

She had stood up in the audience. Everyone looked at her with mixed feelings.

"I..."

I could tell her voice was trembling, even from where I sat. "I'll never forgive you if you do!"

She inhaled deeply once and yelled in a way I'd never heard before. "I won't give you a ride back home! That's a long way to walk, you know that!? And I'll take back the money I was going to lend you for the train!"

"So don't stop!"

Don't stop.

Her voice echoed once, twice, then three times in that large hall, and then vanished into the air.

She was colorful. Her words and actions moved me like nothing else did.

She was spring itself.

And I was surely winter. Cold, unmoving, stoic, forever destined to be the season which brings about the death and stagnation of all things...

But do things really have to be that way? After all, winter isn't just the season of dying trees or flowers... it's the season of revival. All that wilting and death was part of the cycle which brought about bigger, better things. Winter was a powerful, influential force. And that snow, which covered everything like a blanket, lit up the world in a way that fake lights and flowers could never hope to accomplish...

I stared back at Octavia, a deep feeling welling up in my chest.

I had stopped midway. By all accounts, the performance was a failure. Nothing about this was a learning experience for those children who sat before me.

Still, they looked at me with expectant eyes. They sparkled so impossibly bright, like freshly fallen snow. Like bright red roses. Like the garden I met her in.

My entire body tensed up, then relaxed.

"I wanna be just like him!"

That little girl who looked at me like a superhero. Did I ever feel that way about someone else? Wasn't there something in my life that moved me to act?

There was someone, for certain.

She was outrageous. She liked to play tricks on me. She was deceptively beautiful. She was inexplicable, she said and did strange things on a whim. She saw through me like I was made of glass. Yet at the same time, she never acted as if I were below her or in need of pity.

Octavia Melody. The modern classical genius. The girl who I'd met before, but couldn't remember where or when. She wasn't a flower on a high mountain, and neither of us were Beethoven. We were just people. She was a girl with a heart bigger than mine.

When hope was nowhere to be found within me, she instead shared with me her own.

"I still believe in you."

"I still believe in you. 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!"

This ridiculous, impossible girl. Octavia Melody. Despite everything, my lips began to curl up at the edges.

You're so infuriating... you bring me here by force, tell me it's okay to run away, yet you deny me a way home?

You're so unfair.

I smiled, and my eyes saw the lights above me through a thin film of tears.

And so... I played from the top.

The notes were still muddled. Although they couldn't reach my ears, it no longer mattered. I wasn't playing with any special technique, any special mindset, nothing like that. Rather than play religiously to the score, I instead let myself be free inside the music. I freed myself, if only for a moment, from the shackles of my ears. It was just like she said, how listening wasn't everything. I could feel the music now.

Each note was a color that danced in front of my mind's eye. Each note was a memory, an emotion, a strong urge.

I wanted to transcend words. I wanted to speak through my instrument like Octavia did.

I cried out to the air with my cello—

I want to make life comfortable for my Uncle.

I want to make up with Alexis, and laugh and joke around again like we always do. I want Octavia to know how much her words lifted me up. I want to show these kids that there's a bright future, a burning freedom in music that nothing else could provide.

I became keenly aware of the sensations in my body, in my fingers and arms. They were no longer numb, but now feeling a stinging, aching pain from the tirelessness of my playing.

Good.

That pain meant I was alive.

It meant I could keep living.

It looks like...

I began speeding up. The finale was fast approaching now. The intensity of the music swelled with each phrase. My hands and my bow moved in quick, discreet movements as the air around me began to vibrate with color.

...I won't die today after all.

A triumphant G major chord ended Bach's Prelude. My bow soared off the string as the last note rang throughout the hall.

And within my ears.

...

Not a single word spoken. Not a noise to be heard. Silence so deep and profound that you could hear a pin drop. A sudden chill came over me.

Clap.

Slowly, but surely.

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

And then, thunderous applause.

"What the heck?"

"He is back after all!"

"That was incredible!"

"Guess there was nothing to worry about!"

I released a breath I didn't even know I was holding as I found myself standing up before the audience. My shirt was drenched with sweat, and my breath was ragged, and my heart racing, and my body aching...

But I found it again. The moment that all musicians live for. When they finish that piece, and they stand to face the crowd, knowing for sure that their sound reached them.

I took a deep breath, feeling guilty for the happiness I felt in my heart and the big stupid smile on my face as I bowed deeply.

Was it okay for me to feel like this? Was it okay for me to play the cello again? Could I be forgiven after all?

As if to answer, the applause roared in my ears like crashing waves. And as I emerged from my bow, I saw her.

Octavia Melody.

Because of the lighting, it was all I could do to make out her outline, much less any kind of facial expression. Yet, I could see them perfectly in the dimness of the seating area. Her tears.

A smile, drowned in tears... like a rose covered in snow.

---

As I walked backstage, a voice spoke out to me from the darkness of the rafters.

Did you play well, Jaemin?

I paused.

"I wouldn't say so. I did stop once, after all."

You know what that would mean in a competition, don't you?

I looked down at my sneakers.

"Immediate disqualification."

Yet you kept going. Even if there's a chance that it would have been futile. Why?

...

Why, you ask...

"Because someone out there was listening."

Is that so?

Is that really what you think?

The voice began to fade like smoke into the air.

Looks like you still have some growing up to do, Son.

---

"I must say, I completely misread you my boy!"

That large, jovial man who was looking daggers at me before now stood at my side as I exited the backstage door, patting my back with all the jolliness of Santa Claus and laughing heartily all the while.

"Jaemin Song, eh? I must say it had been a while since I heard your name, you'll forgive me for my lack of initial faith... oh, but I always knew you'd come through, my boy!"

"Haha..." My laugh was weak, squeaky, and pathetic.

To be honest, I could hardly register a single word he was saying. My mind was still spinning from what I'd just done, and I felt unsteady on my feet. Still, I plodded through and back to the practice room where I left my case.

"Take a breather, young man! I trust Miss Melody will be along to see you soon."

He shut the door behind me as I stood in that dimly lit room.

Deep breaths.

I set my cello down carefully, loosened the threads on my bow, set that down with the cello, and then my whole body caved in.

Luckily, the sofa I sat down on to tune my instrument before going on stage was there to catch me. I fell uncomfortably and face first into that leather seat, extremely winded.

Did I really just do that?

My heart was still pounding at a feverish pace. The sweat on the back of my shirt had become cold.

...

I just needed a few moments.

To catch my breath.

...

I really did do that, didn't I?

I did that... I...

The world around me faded to black.

---

The door opened. A shred of light from the hallway stretched across the walls of the practice room.

"To think I would find you like this..."

The sound of a familiar pair of heels walked over to where he laid. When he didn't respond, she peered curiously at his face, which was pressed into the seat of the sofa. Jaemin Song seemed to have fallen asleep, despite the incredible odds.

"Just a two minute piece, yet you're already in this state."

The weight of the sofa shifted sightly as Octavia Melody took a set right beside him.

"Really, what am I to do with you?"

"I'm out of practice..." She recalled him saying. "I believe you now, for sure. But to think it would be to this degree!"

Octavia looked down at him with an indescribable feeling in her chest.

"If you sleep like that, you'll wake up with marks on your face, you know? Honestly..."

She scooted closer to him.

"I'm right here, yet you insist on sleeping in that uncomfortable position. You sure know how to offend a girl, don't you?"

Carefully, so as not to wake him (though she felt that even the roughest handling wouldn't rouse the very tired looking Jaemin), she shifted the boy's head onto her lap. He made a lackluster noise from the disturbance, but it seemed like he was still dreaming.

Octavia parted a section of his hair with her fingers in a delicate motion. His hair was rough, messy, black like her's, but mysteriously not as dark. It was fun to play with, she quickly realized.

When she looked at him like this, all sorts of things jumped at her. His face, still a bit red from the excitement, was handsome and well proportioned, and his skin fair like that of a prince's (she didn't know, of course, that it was only because he didn't get very much sun). His form was slender yet broad, perfect for a cello player. The mole underneath his left eye was also very endearing.

And despite everything, he slept on her lap so peacefully, just like a baby.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

She had a bit of his hair twirled between her index finger.

"I never expected you to show me up like that, Jaemin Song."

Truly, you made me look like a fool after everything I'd said and done to you. You had the last laugh in the end. I could hear it in your Prelude, you know?

Within the notes of that Prelude, Octavia could still remember seeing it clearly. The image of a young boy who loved and played classical music with his whole entire heart.

"So stay with me, okay? Because I still have to show you what I can do too."

She smiled and leaned close, whispering into his ear—

"That's a promise, Jamie."

---

Huh?

When did I fall unconscious?

My memories are hazy... though my consciousness was held together by mere threads, I could recall someone entering the room. Then, a really soft sensation... warmth like I hadn't known for so long...

I sat up in the sofa. The room was now well lit, and everything was as I left it.

Everything except...

There she was. Sitting in the opposite corner, a book in her hand. Octavia looked up at the sudden noise, and our eyes met.

Just like the day we met, her face betrayed no expression.

"Awake now, are we?"

I rubbed my eyes. "How long was I out for?"

She checked her watch.

"Three hours."

Three hours, huh?

...

"Three hours?!"

I checked the time on my phone in a panic as Octavia regarded me with an unimpressed expression. "You heard me the first time, didn't you?"

I ignored the jab and rubbed my eyes harder, willing away the sleepiness.

Good god. Three hours after a two and a half minute song? There are limits to fatigue...

And after all that mouthing off to Octavia, that's what I had to show for myself? My entire face burned with embarrassment.

I am so, SO uncool...

I mean, it's not like I was really trying to impress her in the first place, but you know...

My mind suddenly picked up on a memory. Mischievousness welled up within me like helium in a balloon.

"But hey, I didn't know you could get so emotional Octavia." I smiled cleverly as I looked back at the black-haired beauty, who froze up in response. "Yelling in the middle of a performance, crying right afterwards... looks like little Miss Melody isn't without her imperfections, hm?"

Bingo. Her face suddenly flushed with a deep pink.

"I did no such thing! It was all your imagination." She huffed indignantly. "More importantly, what was the big idea with stopping in the middle like that? And that atrocious playing right before? You know you'd be disqualified immediately if you auditioned or competed in that state, don't you?"

I couldn't hold back my laughter. Just the mere sight of her... Octavia's cheeks puffed out like a hamster when she got mad!

"You...!" She looked like she wanted to throw the book in her hands at me when she saw my expression.

I laughed so hard it hurt. It had been so long since something was this funny. So long since my heart trembled like this.

"Well..." I wiped away a few tears, holding back more laughter. "Sorry to have made you stick through that playing, and with me while I was out, Octavia."

"Tavi."

"Huh?" I did a double take.

"Call me Tavi." She faced the wall, so I couldn't make out her expression. Still, the tips of her ears were red.

I smiled at that. Not a flower on a high mountain, not Beethoven, not some goddess. Just a girl with a big heart. Even if there were many other things I still didn't know about her, I knew for sure that was Octavia Melody.

"Got it, Tavi."

I scratched my cheek awkwardly. "Um— you can call me Jamie if you want, I guess...?"

The book I was expecting her to throw at me earlier came flying towards my face. The binding of a hardcover met with the bridge of my nose at an uncomfortable angle.

"Who would call you that?!"

Oof.

---

The Children's Recital had already long concluded by the time I regained consciousness. I was told by the Headmaster that many parents had to drag their kids away from the Academy when the affair wrapped up, trying effortlessly to convince them that I would still be there by the time they went home and came back. Guess that meant I was expected to come again.

The sun was beginning it's descent, and I needed to get home. I hadn't seen Uncle all day, after all, and there was still the issue of Alexis to take care of. But I was optimistic about it all— my life outside of music seemed to shine more colorfully as a result of what I went through today.

Octavia, keeping true to her word, offered me a ride home. During the half hour of commute, rather than the awkward exchange of words we had while going to the Academy, we instead had an animated discussion on music. What pieces would fit a performance for the children, like what mix of technique and expression would best entertain the audience, along what kinds of things we liked to eat before or after playing a big piece, the styles of music we preferred and which composers made the best pieces for certain instruments.

Almost before I knew it, we'd arrived in front of my home. We both exited the car and stood at the curb, now bathed in the light of the sunset.

"A coffee shop, hm?" Octavia commented, stroking her chin pensively as she looked upon my humble abode.

"We're not in business right now, but there'll be a grand re-opening next week." I looked sideways to her. "Will you come?"

She smiled, pretending to think it over. "I do enjoy a good latte from time to time. Try and brew me a good one, will you?"

I scratched the back of my head while laughing nervously. No way I could tell her I was still a total novice at the whole thing... I'd have to really press my Uncle to teach me how before that happened.

More importantly, I'd get to see Octavia Melody again. That stood out to me more than anything else.

"Now," she spoke as she motioned for her chauffeur to come forwards, "I believe this belongs to you?"

Of course. My cello. I took the case in my hands and adjusted the strap over my shoulder.

"It's a shame we couldn't enjoy dinner," she spoke wistfully, "I could have taken you to any five star restaurant tonight with ease... but alas, your poor uncle awaits you in fear of the unknown. I'll have to let you go for today."

I rolled my eyes at her grandeur. She really liked to show off, didn't she? Still, today truly was amazing. I had to show her my gratitude.

I began, "Thank y—"

"But I'm not done with you just yet, Song." Octavia turned to face me and cut me off, now serious. "I really meant it when I said that I believed in you. You can go farther than where you went at the Children's Recital today. You can soar to even greater heights if you truly put in the effort."

She stepped forwards, now very close to me. A mere inch, or perhaps less than that, is all that separated our faces.

Her eyes shone in that moment of twilight. "I know you can."

I wracked my already fatigued brain for something to say, then opened my mouth to speak, "I—"

"But, again, whether you want to or not is up to you," Octavia turned away quickly while cutting me off again, "I'm still not forcing you to do anything."

She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, a rare blush appearing on her face. "S— so in the meantime, while you think about it, I suppose I'll let you have my cellphone number!"

I froze, immediately struck with the fear that this was some kind of prank. A pretty girl wanting to exchange contact info was surely a trap in any other context? Surely someone would jump out with a camera any moment, or a crowd of my peers would join us and start jeering. All boys my age sort of feared this situation, at least to my understanding... but then I realized who I was speaking to and eased up.

"Sure, Tavi. If that's what you want."

"I— I mean, how else will we get in contact again? Don't take it the wrong way, fool! They wouldn't let you just waltz back into the Academy without me to guide you, understand?"

As ridiculous as ever, Octavia Melody. Perhaps in addition to having a big heart, I should also refer to her as the girl with an even bigger mouth.

"I will text you later! Make sure to respond within 30 seconds, or you'll definitely hear from me!"

With that, we parted ways. Her extravagant limousine drove off and turned the corner. The image of her still burned into my retinas. Her seriousness. Her smile. Her laugh. Her anger.

Seriously...

Keeping up with her was even harder than keeping up with sheet music that I could no longer even hear. I chuckled to myself as I pulled out the keys to the front door— to find that it was unlocked. I tentatively opened and peeked in to find...

Alexis Capella, my childhood friend, sitting at the front table with my Uncle, who looked less than pleased at this sudden turn of events.

Our store had large, dark, tinted windows that allowed generous sight of the street, but not so much vice versa. Meaning they had seen everything.

She had seen everything.

My Uncle looked at me with worried eyes, making a gesture with his hand to his neck that I couldn't quite understand.

The blue-haired girl before me smiled with a sickening sweetness, like the thorniest rose to have ever been, as she rose from her seat and slowly walked towards me.

"You sure..."

Uh oh.

"...looked veeeeeeery cozy—"

Oh no. Your eyes are scary, Alexis. Way too scary. Those aren't the eyes of a human being.

"—with Octavia Melody just now, didn't you, punk?!"

Not good!

"GAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

And for the second time that day, my face took a sound beating.

Author's Note:

Cantabile: to be sung; played like that of a human voice; song-like.

Comments

[Titan Commander Sebaste]

Okay... I have one thing to say: You, sir/ma'am are a bloody genius.
Each scene is well thought out and has a feel to it, as if you're there with the main character.

All in all, I'm impressed. Faved and tracked.

[Alden MacManx]

*claps* Bravo, dear author, bravo! Encore!