Not So Vibrant, Not So Dull (draft) ✔

Chapter Two: Devil's Son

I was chaos myself, more than you could ever know. For as good an actor as I was, I was a better pianist. The blacks in my world were bolder than you assumed, so intense that the white I tried to paint over it could barely shade a grey. But I felt more vibrant when I was with you—when I kissed you, or even just thought of it. And now, I was afraid of getting addicted to the luxury of you—a luxury I couldn't afford.

My childhood was a stage set for a role I never wanted. My father, the Don, ruled the family with an iron hand, cold and unflinching. I grew up in the shadow of his empire, the whispers of power and danger seeping into every corner of my life. From the day I could understand words, I knew that the man I called father was feared more than loved. I was raised not just to inherit wealth but to command it with ruthless authority.

My mother, on the other hand, was nothing more than a chandelier in our grand mansion—beautiful, delicate, but lifeless. She sparkled in the light of high society, adorned in the finest silks and jewels, but inside, she was hollow. She existed only as an ornament, a symbol of grandeur. Emotions? Decisions? They were luxuries she had long surrendered. She was more comfortable playing her part, smiling for cameras, whispering empty pleasantries at lavish dinners, while my father made the real decisions, the ones that mattered in the shadows.

I was raised by nannies and bodyguards more than I was by her. I was always aware of the absence of her warmth, her detachment masked by her beauty. She looked at me as if I were just another fine piece of furniture in the mansion—polished and perfect, but without real substance.

Tutors came and went, drilling into me not only the usual curriculum but also the art of deception, the language of power. I learned to speak in codes, to play the part of the obedient son in public, while behind the curtains, I saw the blood, the betrayals, the violence that fueled our world.

Music was my only escape. The piano became my sanctuary, the one place where I could control the chaos. My fingers would dance across the keys, and for those moments, I could create something beautiful in a world that was anything but. I became a master, not because I loved the piano, but because it was the only thing that wasn't touched by the darkness of my family's legacy. The blacks and whites of the keys were the only place where I could paint a version of my life that made sense. But I was never allowed to forget who I was. There were always reminders—subtle and not-so-subtle—that I was destined for the same path as my father.

I never intended to feel anything beyond the keys, more than to let the sounds stretch beyond the sheet music. The piano had always been my refuge, the place where I could pour out my soul in shades of ivory and ebony, safe in the confines of my own creation. But then, every time I sat down, every time my fingers touched the cool, familiar surface, I felt you.

I still remembered the first time I saw you in that café, how you moved through the space like a storm contained in a teacup. If I called you a beautiful mess, would that have offended you? Because you were. Eyes all over me, you held back your words, but your gestures spoke volumes.

You were the one who made me realise that the notes could feel more than what I'd written, that the music could linger long after the sound had faded. Every twist, every leap, every pause was a conversation, a language we both spoke but never dared to name. You made the music breathe, live, in a way I never could on my own.

It started innocently enough, just a simple coffee run on my first day in Ravenwood. I'd moved for university, a fresh start, and the first thing I wanted to do was take a walk around. I'd planned to explore a bit, get a feel for the area, but that morning, the skies opened up, and rain began to pour. It wasn't going to stop me, though. I grabbed my umbrella and slipped into the dark blue coat Mum had gifted me before I left home. With the umbrella shielding me from the worst of the downpour, I stepped out into the rain, determined to make the most of my first day in this new place.