loosely - summer 2k16

chapter one/ "moonlight sonata"

are you coming to the recital, belle?

shit. shit shit shit. i completely forgot.

I completely forgot about the recital my older brother told me about last week, i mean, fine. okay, you caught me- he isn't actually my older brother. But, sometimes when i look at him, I feel like he is. His blue eyes and his white skin, may have no match for my simple brown eyes (that i cover with blue contacts, by the way) and my tan skin, but that doesn't mean that at times I don't think we're the same person.

yeah, yeah, i'm coming to your recital. it's at four -- right?

I quickly text him back, hoping he'll see as quick as possible.

good. good, what's your song called again?

Grateful he texted me back, I willingly reply:

It's called beneath us. Love you, See you at four, linguini.

Obviously, his name isn't actually linguini. But it's fun annoying him so I simply call him that. It's more fun than calling him by his simple actual name- which, by the way, is really pretty. I guess the word "pretty" is different to say and a bit weird because he's a boy- not a girl. But that doesn't matter. His name is still pretty and it has a ring to it. I like it. I just prefer linguini.

I chuckled to myself as I got out of the bath and I quickly got ready:
throwing in my blue contacts as fast as I could without making a mess, scrambling to get my long haired, twenty eight inch long green and black wig on my head, brushing my teeth so fast that it scraped my gums a little too hard and I swear to god I see blood.

Three o clock came, and there I was, in my black long dress, high heels, a wig and my contacts.

I'm going to be fine, I said to myself. I'll perform for kids, go home, and it will be okay.

I roamed around the small, yet pretty, music store as my heels clicked against the ground.

Suddenly, I heard it.
I get it - what is, It?

My favorite fucking song and I guess you can call it cliché but, moonlight sonata is playing and my heart starts to melt. My hands shake and whenever I hear that noise- the piano I mean, I shake. I can't help it. It's so fucking beautiful.

I peek my head into the performance hall, and I see a tall, muscular light brown eyed boy with his hands dancing on the piano like it was his home;
my eyes, so watchful of every move he makes, follow his hands as they glide against the black and white keys.

I start to melt again.
I back away slowly, look at linguini, with my eyes wide,

"He's good, isn't he, Belle?" He looks at me slightly and I stare back at my older brother, nodding my head willingly.

"Only nine months, has he been playing." He tells me, and I almost am jealous.

"Don't worry, belle. He's only sixteen. And nobody is better than you." He reassures me, putting his arm around me.

I walk away slowly, and I look at the guitars and fifteen minutes later, I see him.

The boy with his piano.

I must make an effort to talk to him, I tell myself. And, I do.

I sit on the chair next to him, seeing him on his stupid iPhone.

Oh God, I don't know what I'm getting into.