Chapter Text
Ash burned. He had been burning for a while. Not turning to practical ash, still. But the stage lights and bustling crowd made it all much hotter, harder to just go on and not melt down like a cheap paraffin candle. Performing had never gotten less exciting, if not more and painfully so. As embarrassed as he'd feel about experiencing this kind of vulnerable, almost childish sensation of sheer enjoyment, he shoved it all down into the thinnest corridors of his mind until the concerts were over. And so, these worries never became brought up again.
It was a pleasant sort of miracle – the way SYNCOPÆ「tion」had picked up so soon after its formation. Considering the fact that they hadn't even done anything much to promote themselves, already having thrown their eighth gig of the month was something to brag about. If only Ash had the energy to do so, that was.
He had a bad habit of going all out on each stage, and no other of his fellow band members was afraid of pointing that out. Could at least glaze the straightforwardness over a bit, it wasn't like anyone would suffer out of shutting up. But well, it was what it was, and the passion of Ash's didn't seem to ever fade out, which, he assumed, was something the others had relied upon.
But only then, when his flame grew dulled, and his high dropped lower than the depths of the Pacific, did Ash realise just how fucking exhausted he was.
Thank all the mighty deities for the first period getting canceled. Thank all the mighty deities for the last night bus coming the perfect twenty three minutes late for him to catch it. Thank all the mighty deities for gracing him with the almost completely empty salon of the said bus. Things couldn't have gone more smoothly, as Ash promptly grounded himself in his usual seat: two places from the back, the window seat on the left row.
Normally, he'd blast music while going home late. Something about watching the melancholy night city lights pass through and through, stopping only once in a while. Listening to a beat that'd remind him of the dear, less, but still big city of his own where he'd grown up. Homesickness wasn't something he's shown himself to struggle with – it just felt nice to have a little bit of nostalgia to soothe the agitation he felt so very often, may it be negative or positive.
Now, however, he couldn't bear music. The sound of the machine engine and occasional screech of tires against the hardness of road asphalt was enough of a composition to him. Seriously, was there not a better way of handling sound-management? He was set on telling everyone to never go to that venue next time they practice. Even if desperately asked to. No wonder the business had been failing for months.
Ash pinched himself in a fingertip. The ripe time of 2:34 AM on a Thursday was not the correct circumstance to complain about some crappy management. The crowd was very obviously energetic and happy, Harlow and Noelle didn't ditch right after the concert and Sheena didn't eat his brain out with a teaspoon for not «playing good enough». So everything went great, right? The live was a success. Screw Sheena, by the way, for only going around bragging about how great she was and completely ignoring what hard time playing the god forsaken basslines Harlow always wrote while simultaneously singing his heart out he had to survive through. Not like he was much excited about the level he was at.
Ash pinched himself again. Much harder now, holding on the callus covered flesh for a few seconds. With a heavy sigh, he shut his eyes tight. That was exactly what happened every time there was no music to dull his thought process. "Just think of something nice." he almost prayed to himself, not wanting to wear his already declining energy stocks out even further.
It was four stops the one he had to take off at, when he'd finally snapped out of the massive zone-out. His eyes reflexively sought a change of imagery, roaming goallessly over the vacant room of the bus. Except it wasn't exactly empty. A pair of the same very easily discernable aimless eyes staring straight at him, from the parallel seat facing back to the road. Whatever of a big guy image he's been trying to build out of himself didn't matter – it was by far one of the fastest instances he'd ever turned his head away from something. Not even witnessing maggots as an insectophobic person had such an intense reaction.
Shit... Shit! Has he been looking at him silently lose his mind over some absolutely useless and meaningless shit? Most importantly why was he even out this far? Normally people would get off at the city centre, or, at the very least, somewhere around it! Shit, was he being followed? Shit?!
What the hell, actually.
There was no courage build-up needed – looking back at the person sitting in the parallel seat, he looked just like a normal guy, maybe in his late teens, spacing out in the window as well. Their eye contact was nothing more than a coincidence. Was he that sleep deprived that he was starting to become paranoid? One thing Ash knew for sure, was that he needed to squeeze the living soul out of those six hours of sleep he had available.
The creep's hair was perfectly blonde, though. No dark roots, not even damaged ends from as far as he could see... Was he a natural? Rare to see ones around here, Ash thought to himself.
"Next stop: Central University Dorm." beat off the vehicle's walls, and Ash wasted no time to pull the holder with his guitar in it on his shoulder, not ever willing to leave behind something that had been accompanying him for a year and the forty minutes of bus drive on the seat beside him. He stood up in a hurry to finally get to the empty dorm of his and, perhaps, have a bowl of warm and tasty instant noodles if his sleepiness doesn't kick especially hard. Just imagining the comforting aroma of the fragrant soup and all the extremely unhealthy additives made his mind soar afloat. Cheshire being out with his new buddy made the upcoming uninterrupted rest of Ash's all much more satisfying to have a tiny dream about.
The blonde creep got off right before him at the same stop.
Before his mind could fall further into the endless abyss of the terrifying act of thinking, however, Ash noticed an instrument case hanging on his left shoulder. Violin? Viola? He wasn't sure. But the pieces started to click. The university he studied in had opened the dorms for conservatory students in July. Maybe they had finally realized, that not every prodigy kid was a rich kid and could allow an apartment of their own or a communal dorm room without the student discount.
Strange, however, that that guy only caught Ash's attention now, in the middle of the night. Not like he personally knew each dorm inhabitant – the place was huge, after all. Still, if the guy had been around for a while, Ash, surely, would have at least noticed someone as visually apparent. Most importantly, why was he even out this late? Did conservatory kids hold errands that late into the day, that it was almost morning?
Well, not like he was going to ask. He wouldn't want to seem like the creep there, even though it was him who'd gotten scared the living soul out of.
So instead of thinking again, Ash did something any other reasonable adult would do – space out and get home on autopilot.
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So could anyone, just about anyone tell him why the hell the only thing he could hear down to four AM was violin? Just who in the goddamn universal materia would play the violin this (couldn't say late) early, in a dratted shithole that was the dorms? Not to mention that it got very painful to handle very quick – his ears still hurt after the concert, as if getting countless liters of water blasted into them. Now that was some pure torture. If Ash wasn't as worn out and beat up, he'd very much likely had come to the bastard's door, knocked it down, replaced the strings with the twat's ripped out hair and strummed the fiddle with his teeth.
"A maestoso perfomance, by the way! Impeccable! Bravissimus! Now shut the hell up and perish!" Ash's mind rattled and prattled endlessly, in hopes of finding at least some sort of quiet. And before he could realise, it was already almost seven in the morning.
Now he just wondered how whoever was practicing had the power and energy to go almost the entire night. That was outright commendable. But he just felt his psyche slowly going more pathetic with each note played. On the night his roommate wasn't home, as well...
Curled up on the not so welcoming mattress of his bed, Ash missed, like an abandoned child their mother's embrace, the calm weeks after his partying neighbour moved out.
It would have been fine, if only he hadn't had summer classes. The only thing Ash would have hoped for, was that they would stop playing somewhere during the day so that he could get at least a fifteen minutes' worth of sleep. His head didn't sit right after all-nighters anymore. But not only did he have to be up and up-beat in the study hall by eleven, they also had band practice today for some unexplainable to him reason. Perhaps, he could skip today? Surely, Harlow would understand?.. Having to confront Sheena about that wouldn't happen to be pleasant, however.
He groaned into the soft of his pillow, exhausted. He'd already memorised the piece being played by the time the sun rose, but now he knew what accents came where and when, as well as being able to discern the mistakes. Which there weren't many of. Was this guy even human? Ash shuddered, creeped out. He didn't want to think of it anymore. Pitying both himself and the people living the room next to the violinist-demon.
Ash slid out of his bed, rather clumsily. Thought, getting a bit of water would at least help ease the headache. Ah, how frustrated he was about not being able to sleep on it. Maybe he should have bribed some sleeping pills out of the insomniac kid in the parallel door. Ah, he was going nuts already. That wouldn't be exactly ethical, would it?
When, suddenly, a bliss. A sanctity, enveloping him in its joyous caress – silence. Ash could have watched his soul elevate on a higher plane, ascending to the glorious skies of peace. The glee, the delight, the ecstasy! All to be swept away by Ash himself. There was no way in hell, or the temporary heaven he'd claimed just now, that he wouldn't at least confront the jerk about the suffering he'd been put through!
Messily throwing on a zip-up on top of his hoodie and sneaking in his slippers, Ash heard the sound of the neighbouring door shutting. Perfect! This bastard was getting a lecture or two and absolutely no escape from them!
Ash confidently stepped out of his room and met the same goddamn blonde freak going down the corridor. Of course, he should have deduced that already...
“Good morning,” he called out bluntly, leaning on the left wall of the hall. “Are the dorm beds to your liking? Bet you had some awesome sleep.”
The freak only turned at him with a blank, vacant expression.
“They are quite fine. But I see no reason as to why you would converse about something like that with me, considering that we do not know eachother at all” and he spoke as stupidly blank as he looked.
Ash could feel a vein pop somewhere underneath his skin.
“Because I did not get any sleep during your nighttime concerts, that's the reason,” he grew more agitated, as any lack of emotion coming from the other side rubbed him the wrong way and infuriatingly so. “Is there any reason as to why you wouldn't occupy the perfectly fine music room and practice there instead of fucking over other people's rest?” Ash mocked the ridiculously formal way of speech he'd been presented with.
“Are the walls here not soundproof?”
...
What?
As sincerely and honestly as possible. What? Ash was certain of the fact that his face transmitted exactly the stun and confusion that flooded all of his complaints over, leaving a mere dead calm.
“What the hell kind of a dorm has soundproof walls?..” he genuinely didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that exact moment. Maybe both. There wasn't a lot he was able to think of to say, he knew as much as that.
“I'm not exactly familiar with the way dorms function, so excuse me for the inconvenience. And I will inquire someone of the whereabouts of the music room you mentioned. Have a nice day,” he turned away as robotically as ever, the slick click of his loafers reverbing against the yet sleeping walls of the corridor.
Ash just stood there, unable to utter a singular word out, eyes fixed on the thin figure before him retreating. Was this guy living in a perfect fantasy world? Looked like it by the way he seemed genuinely lost in reality. Just who in the world had ever thought that these shit-shack excuses of living spaces would ever have a luxury of being soundproof? He couldn't understand what to even think about this whole encounter – much less have any kind of fuel to feel agitated anymore.
Soon enough, though, it dawned. He pissed him off. He pissed him off! He pissed him off so much it hurt! Ash bit down on his lip, very obviously irritated, in an attempt to handle the suffocating wave of fury. He shut the room door behind himself and plopped face down onto his bed. Even more exhausted than before. He wasn't in the mood for sleeping anymore, he wasn't in the mood for anything. The only thing he wanted to do was punch the violinist-demon square in the face.
The summer heat wasn't relieving any weight from his eyes, as well. Ultimate hell, he declared it. Perhaps he should have listened to Noelle. Perhaps he shouldn't have spent himself so much. Damn it all! At that point, he would just come to school earlier and sleep in the auditorium. He was only in for two periods, so it wouldn't be as punishable to crash at history, he thought.
At the moment, he just wanted to enjoy the hour and a half of quiet he had.
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“Oh, he's dead dead,” Celine sat on top of the desk Ash was laying head down lifeless on, poking him with her index.
“Didn't they have a live yesterday? Must be tough to even get up from bed after that,” the only voice of reason, Mika interjected.
“Can you two just shut up and cover me up?” not even raising his head from his arms, Ash grumbled, his voice sore.
“What did you even do to get this tired? You never had problems coming to classes after gigs before,” Celine, the ever curious, kept on interrogating.
“There's a jerk that moved into the room next door and has been playing his violin literally the whole night...” Ash exaggerated his frustration dragging out the last few syllables with a big yawn. “Ain't no fucking way I'm gonna be energetic after that. So just let me sleep, the history prof is always just mumbling to himself anyways.”
“Poor guy. Let's go sit in front,” Mika gestured to Celine, trying to get her to stop her advances.
Luckily, Ash had been left alone again. At last, some sweet sleep.
But, god, was he still furious. For some reason he couldn't stop mulling over the incident. The desire to slap the jerk grew ever stronger.
Ash glanced into the window of the auditorium over his arm, the weather was still nice. It was a shame that summer was coming to an end – he'd always cherished warmth over cold. Not to mention that the July month had carried plenty of events, spilling them onto Ash like confetti. The newcoming of the blonde jerk seemed to only accentuate the feeling of fun and carelessness slipping out of his hands, instead becoming a puddle of worries and responsibility. All in all – university started in only a week. Right, he was a second year already.
Not like much would change, he thought. He just had to tough it out until holidays, like usual. He specifically booked summer classes to have less load during the year to have more time enhancing the technical stuff with SYNCOPÆ「tion」. Maybe they would actually get contracted somewhere during the year. Who knew.
The existence of band practice later in the day made Ash want to bash his head against the desk right in the study hall, though.
"Just tough it out."
He just had to tough it out.
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Ash came back to reality at getting poked on the top of his head. History ended in a flash. He did fall asleep, didn't he?
“Celine...” Ash mumbled out, not ready to face the outside world just yet. “Give me a second to collect myself first.”
“You say that, and stay completely still. I'll just have to drag you out of your bubble at this point,” Celine gave Ash a rather forceful shove in the head, forcing his forehead to hit the desk with a moderate thud.
Ash glared up at the unscrupulous redhead, squinting, as the sun shone through the window in the perfect way to flare up and burn away one's lenses. Good thing he was still tired, or else he'd give her a scolding, before cursing out the big red giant as well.
“What do you want from me, anyway? Classes ended. Go home,” he rested his chin on his palm, barely even opening his eyes.
“You know, you'd be a real cutie if you weren't this grumpy,” Celine poked Ash again, in the forehead this time. He strongly felt his stomach scrunch up in either embarassment or anger. Where the hell was Mika at the time he needed him the most?
“What's up with you?!” Ash hissed quietly.
“Maybe if you toned it down with the attitude, you'd even get a girlfriend,” she mocked harder, not sparing Ash's already diminishing ego.
“I will personally braid your shitass hair one by one and make it impossible for you to brush it out,” fed up, Ash pushed his chair away with a dramatic swing, pulling his shoulder bag up almost apathetically. He felt a strange sense of comfort in being able to casually exchange insults and threats with her, never actually hurting eachother's feelings.
“Oh, speaking of hair,” Celine didn't try to stop him from heading out, “You should touch up your ends! The orange-ish it faded out into is ugly. Clashes with black hair. And I just miss the tuscan.”
“How the hell do you know the color names?..” Ash eyed her with a look of passive disbelief.
“See you Monday, Ash,” Celine only waved enthusiastically.
Ash gave her a swift waff with his hand, not turning around. “See ya.”
Right, there were no Friday classes! He couldn't keep his composure any longer, letting a satisfied grin slip. There were no classes!
Getting a hold of his bangs, he twirled and felt the strands of hair out with his index and thumb fingers.
"It really did fade out, didn't it?.." Ash wondered, if he should change the color of his ends. It was a dull red last time, and the hue stuck to him like a sloth. Too cute to just throw out.
He let the fringe fall free, the grown out strands promptly covering most of his right eye as usual. Ash focused on the free day that was tomorrow instead. And with that thought alone, his walk home was filled with only happier emotions. Stopping every now and then to appreciate the reddening sun, even though still early for sunset, his mind fell at peace. He had to be at the studio by half eight, so he even had some time to nap more! Life was a blessing, and he was God's favourite to receive it.
Yet.
He didn't even get to reach for the door handle to his room before hearing the same wretched violin, his eye twitching in a brand new surge of hate.
"You gotta be shitting me."