Harry's normal florid cheeks were nearly white, just as much as his knuckles resting on the steering wheel. His whole face was missing of his normal spark, his lips shut into a tough line, expressing no emotion.
"Nothing," he said releasing my arm from his grip.
"Well something must've—"
I stopped when I saw him widening the door open and jumping out of the car without looking back.
I quickly followed him behind the stairs. His long legs already brought him halfway through the second floor while I was struggling to keep up with him.
I was short of breath when I finally reached the third floor and leaned on the wall to catch my breath as I glimpsed Harry outside my door.
My eyes were beginning to burn and itch due to the my not custom of using contacts. I used to wear them when I was in high school for sports, stopping shortly before moving for college, not having any reason to wear them, not able to practice any sport anymore.
I walked towards my door, Harry stepping to the side to let me open it.
"I got into a fight," he said as I inserted the key.
His voice made me jump. It was rough, empty.
Not happy, not mad.
"How come?"
He followed me inside as I made my way to the bathroom, not even expecting for an answer I knew it wouldn't come.
I took off my contacts, putting back on my beloved glasses. When I exited the bathroom, I found him seated on the couch with my violin in his hands, studying it closely.
"Do you know any of Paganini's composition?" He asked when I sat as well, keeping a certain distance.
"Of course," I said. "You know, he was from my city."
"No way. You're from Genova?"
His knowledge always surprised me. He was literally the only one who knew Paganini besides the violinists from the school. Even more, he knew where he's from.
I frantically nodded, amazed.
"Cool. Can you play something?"
I nodded again as he handed the instrument to me. I took one of the bows from the carrying case, picked the violin up by its neck with my left hand and brought the butt of the instrument up to my neck. Resting the lower back of the violin on my collar bone and holding it in place with my jaw, I began to play open strings as a little exercise before actually playing the real composition.
My fingers stopped to move fast through the instrumented as soon as I realized that it must have been midnight, and we had neighbors.
"Caprice number 24," he said closing his eyes. "Why'd you stop?"
"Well, even though I've never met any neighbor other than you, I guess someone else live in this building and wants to sleep at this time."
"Good point."
His eye was swelling each minute that passed, but I didn't know what to do. I had no background in medicine whatsoever, as I grew to despise everything connected with blood and hospitals.
"Do you have an emergency kit at yours?" I asked worriedly.
"I do," he furrowed his brow. "You don't?"
"Nope." I shook my head. "You should put something on your eye. It looks bad."
"In one week it'll be like new," he waived my suggestion off. "You should get an emergency kit."
