Dead or Destitute (Lams)

Chapter Two

John tapped at the piano keys, trying to block out his surroundings. Hospital life was grim and gloomy, and he couldn't wait to leave.

In the visiting area several things for entertainment had been purchased, a piano being one of them. John suspected it was only a distraction to the ever present shadow of death which lingered throughout the hospital, waiting at each door. It was in everyone's minds, yet death wasn't threatening to John. It was more of an old friend.

To be honest, he hardly knew how to play anything on the piano. His father had forced John and all his siblings to learn it, but he had quickly forgotten each lesson.

Someone moved the bench back a little, the legs scraping against the tiled floor. John turned, alarmed, only to notice Alexander.

He smiled, glad to see a familiar face. Alexander's lips didn't move, but his eyes spoke for him. It suggested excitement and entrancement. John thought that any minute Alexander would begin playing the piano, sure that the notes would emit a glorious tune.

Instead, Alex just sat there, gazing into John's eyes.

John felt nervous, and he shyly matched the other man's gaze. "Wanna get some coffee? There's a Starbucks a floor down," he offered, trailing off as he spoke.

Alexander touched John's elbow lightly, encouraging him to lead the way.

The shop was empty, save for the cashier and a crying mother. "Welcome to hospital life," Alex had mumbled sarcastically under his breath.

As they were seated, Alex was the first to speak. "I don't want anyone to cry for me when I die. It seems so futile."

John scoffed, not sure how to respond exactly. This was the second time Alexander had left him at a loss for words and caused an inability to respond in a manner most would find appropriate. "Why does it seem futile?"

Alex grinned, brushing a strand of hair out of John's face. "What will tears do for me? When a person's dead, they're gone."

John's demeanor grew dark and Alex decided to change the subject. "You don't play piano, do you?"

John shook his head, blushing a little.

"It's pretty obvious from your mannerism. You looked less like Mozart and more like a lost puppy."

"You play?" John questioned, sipping at the drink he had almost forgotten about.

"Not really." He responded uninterestedly.

John paused, unsure of how to engage further with Alexander. He was usually far more reserved anyway, and talking more than required was like pulling nails. He wondered why the usual dread in the pit of his stomach was completely gone when speaking to Alexander, but quickly dismissed any romanticized thinking.

Alexander's eyes rose, in lieu of a smile. He had noticed John's inquisitive look and spoke for him.

"You probably like bad rap music," Alexander joked. "Not the Mozart type, no. Clearly a trap music fan."

John rolled his eyes, but let a small smile slip out of the corner of his mouth.

"If I had to pick a genre, I wouldn't know what to go with," Alexander explained. "But I do enjoy some indie music."

John seemed caught off guard by the confession, and Alexander noticed the confusion.

"What?"