The Whisper of the Muses

Chapter 1

"The blind man finds home through the melody of despair"

Will's vision was blurred because of the alcohol he drank and the tears that were coming into his eyes. Every of his steps were irregular, making him stumble.

He was going out in the beating heart of London every night, attracted by the delicious flavour of people and drinks. Being eighteen years old since a short time, he was using his majority roughly, paying bottles of alcohol until he gets no more change in his pockets and often participating to gambling. Will was an out going person, making friends easily and always being a part of the loudest table in bars : he was rarely alone. However, he also was a very talkative person who never knew how to shut up at the right moment and how to ignore other's people provocations. 

  "You can't help yourself right ? One day, talking too much will cost you the world, honey." That's what his mom used to tell him when he was a little kid.

He often got in troubles because of his behavior, crossing the line so many times. This night was one of those. 

He was walking since twenty minutes, after having been thrown from a nightclub. His mistake ? Hitting the first in a fight.

But didn't the man deserve it, when he was this much enterprising? And am I the real bad guy, when this same man asked for help to three of his friends?  Will was thinking, strongly believing he was, once again, the victim of an unfair accident.

Apparently, the security guards didn't care about the inequality of the fight, and were not up to listen to Will's complaints. They grabbed him by the collar and threw him in the streets, like an angry cat.

His cheekbones, lips and long fingers were very painful, making him grins every time he was touching it. The pain almost made him forget about the icy wind of October, which was lacerating his thin skin, turning it red. He used to think that getting punched often would make it hurt less : it was a stupid belief. He looked deplorable, with his ripped and bloodstained sweater. He didn't any mirror to know that : the way girls were avoiding him, quickly pulling their skirts to make them longer and walking faster was enough. He imagined his younger sisters doing the same and he immediatly wanted to apologize for looking like a potential predator.

The mess of his body was the perfect reflection of his mind at this moment. He was very tired, so tired that he could fall asleep right here, in the middle of the street, next to one of those dirty and too full bin. It was, of course, a bad idea, since he was crossing a scary alley with no cats and nobody in it. You could hear weird noises and see broken cars parked on the sidewalk, giving you goose bumps at every step. But Will was slowly struggling to keep his eyelids open, and his whole body was begging for a break.

He stopped in the middle of the road, his weak legs shaking. He wanted to seat on the pole next to him so bad, but he knew that he'd fall from it if he did. Slowly, he brought his right hand to his phone, softly touching the cold screen. Did he want to check the time ? Did he hear it ringing or did he just imagine that ? Will was too drunk to explain what he was doing. The only thing he was sure of was being exhausted.

 Maybe I could call her.., he thought after a few minutes. Just a ring and I'll be home.

He was about to type the number of his mom, hope warming his whole body. But then, he remembered and smirked : calling his mom at 3 am would have consequences. There was always consequences when it was about him. He sighed loudly, his sweet bed looking so far away from here. He could have mentally complained during hours, but the awkward sound of two poeple "having fun" at the back of their car disgusted him and pushed him to go home by himself.

He walked during an unexpected time, instinctively following the route that was supposed to bring him to his house. His mind was playing the memories of the night in repeat, from the boring conversations of a certain Thomas, to the many shots he drank and then the rude punches on his face. He also remembered the fruity perfume of the barmaid, the red curly hair of a girl between his fingers, the sound of people swearing...

Swears, swears, swears, that's all he could focus on ! It sounded like an aggressive melody, obsessively playing in his head, shouting louder and louder.

Oh fuck! That's what Will shouted when he won a poker party.

He could feel the money in his pocket and still hear the protestation from the other players around the table.

Oh fuck! That's what this ginger girl whispered after kissing Will in a corner.

Glossy lips and hungry hands. Bad music in the background. What was her name ? She probably never told him.

Oh fuck! That's what Thomas said when Will punched him.

Will's fingers were still hurting : he used to be a better fighter.

"Oh fuck!" That's what a voice mumbled while Will was crossing a small bridge.

It took some time to Will to understand that he didn't imagine what he heard. He was still trying to associate it to some memories, in vain. He turned his whole body, searching for the owner of this voice. The person who said that didn't scream very loudly, so if Will heard him, it meant he was near. 

It was dark even with the lights on and his eyes were struggling to follow every of the fast movements of his head –because of the alcohol mostly-. The bridge was old and small, testifying to the fact that he was progressively leaving the center of the city. The place seemed to be empty. 

Not paying attention to his moving feet and looking around like an idiot, he stumbled miserably on his untied shoelaces. He almost yelled, more angry than surprised and bent down to put his Doc Martens correctly, whispering some insults towards himself. 

That's when he noticed him. 

On his right, kneeling in front of the fences of the bridge, there was a boy. Will could only see his back, but he was sure that he was around his age, telling by the dark color of his curly hair and his young man's morphology. He was wearing a long black coat, which, in this position, was covering his whole body, even his feet. Only the pale skin of his neck was doing a contrast with the color of his hair and clothes. Will assumed that he was searching something, by the way his bare hands were desperately moving on the floor, the tension giving a weird look to his back.

During any other night, Will would have not cared. He liked the fun that strangers could bring, but was totally indifferent to their problems. During any other night, Will would have walked away. Maybe it was because of all the shots he drank, or the seven missed call from his mom smelling troubles once he'd be home; no matter what the reason was.

The next second, he was standing next to the mysterious boy with shaky hands.