Bound to the sound of him

You're still as beautiful as the day I lost you

Ink spilled on his calloused hand. He smudged it with his fingers to rub it off, to no prevail. He cursed and grabbed a tissue to wipe it off. Piles of manila papers were on his desk. He rubbed his strained eyes as he picked up a glass of whiskey. Before he could take a sip, it had seemingly vanished from his hand. A young man was now holding it, he sighed as he put it on the opposite side of his mahogany desk.

"Wukong..." he groaned.

He pouted at the boy, trying to convince him to give it back. The young man laughed and leaned on his desk.

"You really need to cut down the alcohol. I mean, would it hurt you to drink some water?" He asked teasingly.

"Sorry kid, I just need to let off some steam."

"Then take a break." He suggested.

"Mk... you know I can't do that."

"You can do it, you just refuse to." The boy said, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

"Hey! How come you can drink it but I can't?" Wukong whined.

"That's because I'm not under the influence.  Besides, the work day is over."

He grabbed his jacket from the coat hook and waved goodbye, closing the door behind him. Wukong leaned back on his chair and sharply inhaled. He swallowed his spit, trying to quench his thirst. His hands were cramped and his body ached. Mk was right, he needed a break. He got up from his seat and started organizing his desk. He opened his drawer to meet eyes with a letter, several letters that were addressed to him. They were from a couple of years ago but he still held onto them. The writing was neat and tidy, it was written in Beijing Mandarin, a language he hadn't heard in years.

His mind stuttered, he slowly picked up the papers and placed it on top of the letters. He picked up his scarf and closed the lights to his office. He left the building and entered the streets. A light fog clouded the area, the street lamps were on and people were starting to enter bars. He didn't intend to drink though, no. He was going somewhere that was far more addicting.

His feet clicked on the wet pavement. He stayed on the opposite side of the side walk as to not go to the edge of his own shadow. He had arrived into the busy streets of the more urban area of London. He led himself to a rather large theatre that was dark inside. There was seemingly no one there.
But he knew better. He went to the side of the theatre and opened the back door with some spare keys. Working for the government certainly helped when pulling some strings.

He closed the door behind him and climbed up a series of stairs, leading him to the upper area of the theatre. There was a comely sound coming from the stage; there was only one light open and the seats were deserted. This place was supposed to be closed hours ago, yet a single black furred monkey was playing the violin by himself.

The music echoed in Wukong's ears, the enticing sound ringing in his head. The man had a way of playing the instrument, it was nothing like he had ever heard of. The music was almost like a trance, leading him towards the other man. Yet he knew it was better to keep his distance. The mans eyes stayed on the violin as his bow brushed passed its strings. Wukong leaned on the balcony and smiled fondly. Seeing the swain tend to ease his mind as he started swaying to the harmony.

What he didn't expect was the man to look up at him. He was taken aback, his eyes widened and he blushed profusely. Their eyes clashed, brown eyes stared into each other. Wukong gulped and stood up properly, ready to leave. A voice cut off his train of thought.

"Going to run away again?" His deep voice sent shivers down his spine.

His heart stammered as he was trying to catch his breath. He tried to speak but the words came out as a rush and a whisper.