Contouring Course - 9

6.5K 440 249
                                    

Noboru's fingers danced along the ivory keys of the piano. The grand instrument was white and polished to the point Noboru could see his mother's visage lurking over his shoulder. He played the gentle beginning notes of Chopin's Raindrop Prelude in D-Flat Major. The keys echoed in a light shower, as if sprinkling rain was falling onto earth, decorating the world in glistening, dewy drops. Noboru inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and falling into the rhythm.

His mother held a refined taste, and if Noboru so much as botched a single note, her claw-like manicured fingernails would swoop down onto his shoulder and squeeze in silent reprimand. The only thing her ears seemed to hate more than imperfect classical pieces, was interrupting them with vocal admonishments. For now, she lingered behind him, and he could see the liquor in her crystal kaleidoscope tumbler. There was a bracelet on that hand, beside an expensive, thin watch. It was a white-gold linkage of colorless, flawless diamonds with a fat carat weight.

Noboru had a teacher when he was very young, hired to educate him in any musical instrument of his choice. His mother had insisted upon this before he had even begun primary schooling. Noboru had never been particularly resistant to her wishes and fell into learning the piano because he found it produced the most elegant sound on its own. Rivaled, in his opinion, only by perhaps the violin. Yet, even the viola was exceptional in some pieces and —

The piece grew steadily louder; the notes ringing longer; deeper. The sweet, dainty keys of the earlier sun shower were abruptly turning into a thunderstorm. Raging, beating against the room's acoustics, and Noboru brought his hands down aggressively upon the piano.

The piece was abruptly stopped there, in his personally memorized third measurement. There was a tremble working its way up and down the nerves of Noboru's fingers. The ominous, dark echoing notes danced in the room. The silence that followed was loud enough to be a distinct hum in Noboru's ears.

His mother instantly became alert, but seemed to realize his stopping was on purpose. There came no reprimand, only the lifting of the glass to her lips. As she sampled the alcohol, Noboru gritted his teeth, listening to the sound of her diamonds collide against the crystal. She was indulging in her daily nightcap, far past dinner, and Noboru had played something for her — for both of them (for himself).

"You're not out of practice, I see," she commented, the cold praise barely passing through Noboru's awareness. What did, however, was his mother's hand coming out to comb through Noboru's dark hair. As slick, elegant and dark as his mother's. Her fingers sifted through his locks, not catching upon a single tangle. "What inspired you to play today?" she asked him mildly, placing the glass of liquor aside.

Noboru could discern her double-speak easily by now. He was aware his mother was inquiring after his mood; after his day.

Noboru sat on the piano's bench for a moment, silent. The pads of his fingers were still resting upon the keys, but he added no pressure to them. Then he sighed and drew his hands away, shoulders slumping.

"How do I take a girl out for a first date?" the question was quiet, choked. Noboru was looking at the ground, feeling the anger in his chest stir anew at the mere mention of —

Was his decision earlier that day a mistake? Noboru did not yet have a plan; no strategy. Was humoring Kana really the way to become closer to Y/n — No, that question was irrelevant. Noboru would ensure his own success, no matter what situation he now had to work with. It was not a terrible idea; not the most ideal launching point, but not unworkable. Never unworkable.

"A girl?" his mother echoed. "I thought you were 'infatuated' with a boy."

"I'll get him," the honest words snapped out of Noboru's throat before he could restrain himself.

AsphyxiationWhere stories live. Discover now