With Spotlight Shining

[amarantheyes]

And there they were. Nothing but the shadows of yesterday and what once was, cast across the floor, hidden by the brilliant darkness that encompassed him. Him alone. For in that cold room, he stood a cold statue, arms stretched far from his body, his head hung forward on his chest. The lights remained off; silence and still as the body he possessed surrounded his being while the images flickered through his mind, the film of life humming its mechanical tune in his memories. Altered colorings, static backgrounds mixed together in a chaotic field of vision, sounds of the past echoing through time to reach his ears as screams, orchestras, laughing...

Until it came to a stop as he threw himself forward, drawing his arms in and clutching his chest while he fell to his knees, his head dangling limply from his neck to graze his pants. A phantom breeze brushed through his hair, kissing his cheeks when he looked up again at the emptiness before him.

It had been some time since he had entered this room. Normally it was during the earliest hours of the day when the sun had not yet risen, the time when most students were still in their dorms and sleeping peacefully. But it was his time. Time to sing passionately, time act naturally, time to do what he loved to do most. And no one was there to distract him or cause him to hold back. Just him and the silence, broken like hopeless dreams tossed upon the waves of the ocean. Just him in that empty sea of beauty, goddesses smiling down at him with their secretive looks.

And it was these times where he felt more at peace than anything, for the stage was his home more than any place of dwelling had been.

Getting to his feet again, the short musical interlude in his head was over, the melody approaching fast upon him. His eyes widened slightly in anticipation and he reached out to the non-existent crowd of people staring intently at him. The song poured from his vocal cords, emotion filling every drop of his voice, every syllable of the words he sang.

It was over then. And he returned to his knees, tracing a design on the stage he was upon, breathing lightly until his heart returned to a regular pulse, though soaking in the exuberance that always came from that stance. He would have to leave soon, for he had come early than normal. Mid-day, surprising enough, for some unexpected reason. He had just needed to sing.

[Soren Capers]

Soren played with the ends of her hair as she stumbled into the student theatre. She hadn't really bothered going many places around campus; it was too early for her. She looked around tiredly at her surroundings, her hazel eyes slightly glazed over with that "I'd rather be at home" look that Soren supposedly naturally had. However, she really did not want to be home right now and was glad that she got the opportunity to go to college here.

With her hands stuffed deep in the pockets of her light pink hoodie, decorated with black spades, Soren continued looking around the room as she slowly and cautiously entered it, not knowing why. This was pretty much how she entered any room that didn't have a huge crowd of people in it. It made her look suspicious, but she didn't mind. She was a rather suspicious person anyway.

Soren was almost startled half to death when she heard someone start to sing - she wasn't aware that anybody was in the theatre besides her. When her heart rate had calmed down, she decided to stop hiding near the entrance and peeked her head around the wall, staring straight at a boy - a beautiful boy at that - who seemed to be singing his heart out to a non-existent audience. He was really good, and Soren could tell he was putting his heart and soul into what he was singing.

That's what she liked to see. Artists putting their heart and soul into their work. Smiling subtly, Soren stepped out from behind the walls near the entrance a little, just so she could see this stranger a little more clearly.

[amarantheyes]

Leaning backwards a ways, his hands pressed firmly against the floor beneath him as began the motion of adjusting his position, swinging his legs over the edge of the platform he sat on. Though his jaw moved, no sound of any sort was emitted. But like a sideways pendulum, he kept opening and shutting his mouth, slow and even in time, never quite letting his teeth click together in that obnoxious harsh sound that he sometimes enjoyed hearing.

Running a set of fingers through his hair, he drew the strands forward, rubbing them against his face before letting them fall around his neck again. He was at peace, glorious wonderment. And for a moment...he was homesick. No. Call it "countrysick," missing his place of origin and the family that had raised him in this world. But the feeling passed as quickly as it had formed, and with a sigh, Tashiro slid from the stage to make his way to another location.

Shoving hands deeply into the pockets of his rich black trousers, his steps made soft sounds on the carpeted floor. He continued to hum, gentle murmurings escaping from between his blue painted lips. But immediately his imaginings ceased when he saw the figure among the shadows. His steps halted.

For a moment, he had been alone. Amazing how a stranger can enter one's world and ruin the happiness that you felt in an instant. With that thought, his face was masked over in emotionless purity, and he stood by to wait and see what this person would do.

[Soren Capers]

Soren's heart gave a small jump when she saw the boy had noticed her watching him. He didn't look happy about it, but then again - the look on his face didn't convey anything. Soren wondered if he was mad at her for "interrupting" him, but his face wasn't giving anything away. She tried to decide whether she would make a run for it or whether she would stay and introduce herself to this mysterious man. Soren practically already had her foot in the door, and she was pretty good at running - she'd run enough from the cops in her day. But as she stared straight back in awe at the man before her, Soren somehow knew it wouldn't be right to run. Besides, why miss out on the opportunity to introduce herself to a fellow artist?

Grimacing slightly, Soren shuffled slowly out from behind the entrance and looked timidly down at the floor, she mumbled an incoherent greeting. Soren wasn't one to talk very much when she first met people and she had to wonder if that's what turned them away from her. But right now, she was especially quiet because she felt like she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. Soren really didn't like feeling like a criminal, but she had no idea how this guy would react to her presence.

Well, it was too late now. She'd already stepped out from behind her veil. Now, the next move was all up to him.

[amarantheyes]

Her moving forward was unexpected, and therefore he took an unconscious step back. Going backwards away from an obstacle or threat, determining what to do next. He was, in fact, tempted to run from the situation. But that was cowardice. He was used to having people either leave when he acknowledged them, or ignore him completely. Then again, he normally ignored anyone that didn't interest him. So whatever reason he had for stopping, instead of walking right by, escaped and bewildered him.

And when she muttered a greeting of some sort, so low that he couldn't discern her words, a small smile played at the corner of his lips before he managed to control it. How familiar was that? But normally when people stopped him, he gave them a blank stare or death glare, telling them that he did not want to talk and left in a slightly haughty manner.

There was no doing that now.

Instead, he removed his hands from his pockets, clasping them behind his back. Leaning forward in a half bow, his eyes narrowed a bit before uttering his greeting to her, "Gomennasai?"

Ah, how mindless. Once again he forgot that not everyone spoke his native tongue. Though it was a common word, his meaning might not be clear with it. So with a slow blink, he translated into English the words that had gone through his head, "I'm sorry. What was that?"

[Soren Capers]

Soren blinked - had he just spoken to her? Her brain went on overdrive, trying desperately to come up with responses. It was much easier having her mother as the only person she really talked to; her mother practically asked the same things, all of which required short answers and little effort and energy from Soren.

"How was school?" "Fine."
"Do you have a boyfriend?" "No."
"What do you want for dinner?" Nothing."

The other good thing about her mother was that she never asked questions twice a day and after Soren was done answering, her mother didn't say anything else. It was quite the life. But now, she really wished she wasn't so socially impaired.

"Uh, I said hello," Soren repeated, looking up a little, timidly into the boy's eyes. Had he just spoken another language? What was that? Japanese? Soren hadn't processed that, but her brow furrowed slightly and she took in the appearance of this boy. He did look Oriental.

"You speak Japanese?" Soren asked softly. People were often surprised at the sound of her voice when she did speak. It was quiet and soft, quite like how she was, showing how little she actually spoke. But it was also smooth and lulling. She was sure her voice could put anyone to sleep if they listened long enough. Not that she talked enough for people to fall asleep.

Flicking her eyes up once more at the boy, Soren chose not to ask his name. That would be pushing it. She looked away quickly, turning her head back down to her still folded hands, admiring her shoddy black nail varnish job. Why did she paint her nails black again? She couldn't remember...

[amarantheyes]

Had she stopped at restating her introduction, if you could call it that, he would have replied with a simple hello and walked off. The "hello" was required, whereas if he had been in Kyoto, he could have bowed his greeting before leaving. But this wasn't Japan, so speaking was necessary. In this case more than ever.

Timidity wasn't something he exactly smiled upon. No. That was a partial lie. Timid librarians were cute, but most everyone else was an annoyance to him. There was no reason a person couldn't speak up, look someone in they eye...

At first judgment, she appeared to be the type of person who let others walk all over her. But he was most likely incorrect, so he was content to examine her more carefully to get a better picture of her heart.

He nearly flinched when she asked her question. It shouldn't be that odd hearing someone speak a language foreign to one's own. And when her own brow wrinkled in what appeared to be concentration, strange that all he could see was disgust in those features. So with a stony voice he replied the only way he could, "Yes. And others."

Damn. The last part came out unexpectedly. If she questioned him on that, it really would mean a conversation instead of just an unintentional meeting. Tashiro had his own question for her, but it would wait until further along, if he bothered to ask it at all.

[Soren Capers]

"Oh," Soren spoke, the word seemingly reverberating in the silent air around them. Well, this is awkward, she thought, shifting her weight on her feet again. And awkward it was. Part of her wanted to engage this boy in conversation, but another part of her told her it would bothersome and trying on her person - which was very much true. Soren was not a speaker and she knew it. She'd had trouble getting places in life because of it, but she wasn't ready to make that leap into being social. Not in real life yet, at least. Trying her hand at making friends was a little different and somehow seemed easier than going for a job interview from a complete stranger who wouldn't go easy on her.

Not that people ever did. They heard her voice and saw how timid she could be and they tried their best to take advantage of her. It didn't work out, she was glad to say. Though she was strangely quiet, she wasn't easy to get one over on. Soren was proud of herself for that; she had her father to thank for her tough exterior.

This man however, who's name she still did not know, looked colder than most and she regretted spying on him and getting caught in this situation. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, trying to train herself to think that perhaps he had a kind heart, but the look on his face suggested otherwise. It looked like he too, didn't want to be here talking. So Soren decided she'd make this easy for the both of them. Maybe one more question, a quick goodbye and then an exit. Yeah, that'd go smoothly. It'd be easy enough, she hoped.

"Uh, do you...do you have a favorite? Language, I mean," Soren mumbled, her chin practically quivering as she spoke. She always imagined herself as a small child when she was speaking, because that's exactly how she felt. Like a small child cowering from shadows or the "Boogie Man," or maybe even the monster in the closet. If only she could get over her irrational social fear and paranoia.

[amarantheyes]

"It really depends on my mood," he commented with a small shrug, "But Latin is the prettiest." He wouldn't say that he liked it best because then no one understood what he was saying. It was the reason he had learned it: to confuse others. Not many people knew the language these days. Japanese, on the other hand, people were learning left and right. A fad of theirs, obsession with the culture. No. With anime. And the reason for it escaped him. There were better things to watch. Better things to read than manga.

But it didn't concern him anymore. Let them wallow in their artless hobbies.

"Wakatsuki Tashiro," he introduced himself with the usual bow, hoping she knew that the family name was first, and that he still held to that despite being in a new country. Just like he continued to bow with introductions, thank yous, apologies, and the like.

Nothing could explain why he had finally introduced himself. Well...maybe it was because she hadn't. Or maybe it was custom. He was used to learning someone's name early on in the conversation, and if they wouldn't reveal it, he had to state his own to make it an obligation for the other.

[Soren Capers]

"It's...uh, nice to meet you?" Soren squeaked, feeling like she was going into terribly unfamiliar territory. Although this...what did he say his name was again? Tamagotchi? No...those were those irritatingly cute and addicting children's toys. Takashi? No, that didn't sound like it at all. Soren mentally kicked herself; why was she so bad with remembering his name? His name in particular? She was good with memorizing other people's names, and none of those people looked as cold or as emotionally unavailable as Tashiro. Soren beamed inwardly. Tashiro! That was it!

Soren then looked around the room coyly, actually now trying to find a way to escape. It was becoming more obvious with each and every word that he didn't want to be here any more than she did. Soren wasn't going to keep him, especially since she was running out of things to say. Well, that wasn't true - Soren always had plenty things to say. She was just running out of the courage and will to say them with. There's no way she could speak if she didn't have her voice, no matter how quiet it may be.

"Uh...I...gotta go? Um, see you around?" Soren said, though her words came out sounding like questions. Giving Tashiro another scared look, Soren quickly turned on her heel and dashed out the large room, the soles of her sneakers squeaking against the floor as she ran. She kept running until she was out the door, past the doors, out the building...

Until she was sure she could see him no more. Glancing back at the building, Soren then clutched at her chest. That was a significantly trying conversation, but she wasn't quite sure why. They hadn't talked in any length about anything, really, but maybe it was just the way he looked at her...his demeanor...

He was a truly beautiful man though, Soren had to admit. She was just frightened of him a little. But then she mentally kicked herself. What a first impression she made! Deciding not to linger on the horrible topic for long, Soren glanced around campus before heading off somewhere else - hopefully somewhere secluded. She'd been neglecting her art lately. Maybe now she'd finally get the chance to unleash her more creative side. Socializing could wait. A very long time, in fact.

[amarantheyes]

His eyes bored into the back of her head until she has disappeared from his sight. Never before had a person run from him. Just avoided, tiptoed around. Left politely. But the fear in her eyes was apparent. Fear. Distrust? Anything as an excuse to get away. Something struck him. Perhaps…he had wanted her to stay and talk. But who could ever try to warm the heart that was built up for duty, not for emotion? Who would understand that he was not there to be the knight of people’s dreams, the kind-faced creature that was the best friend, there to support someone through thick and thin?

And just like that…

He exploded.

Twirling around, his foot lashed out, striking the back of the chair closest to him, a cracking noise took flight in the room. Frustration and hatred flowed freely into his eyes, the burning sensation of rage pulsating through his body. She had judged him. While he had tried his best to avoid any prejudice towards her, she had gone out of her way and assumed what he was, not looking past the cold exterior. Yet…was she right? Was there no heart of emotion beating within him? Could he really be just the educated child that his family had desired? Something that had strove to be better than everyone else?

As through water, he directed his body down that aisle. Return to the stage. Home. Stand there and forget about her, the pain that she had somehow shot into his being. The loathing he had towards himself. Erase those past few minutes of the memories that never should have occurred. Drown it out in the usual way. But…but he had no voice. His throat had tightened, choking the breath that he tried to take in. No. There was another way. He just had to look for it.

It was a fact that every theater should have a piano.

The one he was looking for hadn’t been played in ages. A thick layer of dust had collected on its surface, and he could not bring himself to disturb it. But it was close by, and it would do the job nicely. So flipping back the lid of the keys, he propped up the top of the instrument, setting himself angrily on the bench and slamming his hands down onto a chord that resonated through the room, floating into nothingness as it always did.

A painful sound. Hollow and filled with agony and he swayed with the melody that poured forth from his fingertips. Misery, loneliness. Everything and nothing at all as his hands flew across the ivory keys. A melody that he could not find the reflection of. His non-existent feelings? What it even his? Or were they just notes that seemed to fit well enough together to get whatever he wanted out of his system?

And as the last tone faded away, he raised his hand to his face, feeling the wetness that contradicted all of his previous thinking.

((End?))