Lights. (An AJR fanfic)

Chapter 10

This chapters songs are:

Woody Allen-AJR again because I love the remixes

Uprising- by muse, again because I love their style

And for once, a song I've loved forever called Heavy Metal Wars by Speak. It's this tiny Texas band that I don't even know how I found them but I love them haha

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The song I play is originally fourteen and a half minutes long, but I play just the beginning and the chorus, only two minutes of it. I let the music pour out of my fingers, even letting my eyes close when I get to my favourite part, and I just play. Piano was all I could ever do that I never screwed up, and it was so easy to forget everything, so god damned easy to exclude everything around me and just not think, not know, not remember. I loved this song not only for the simpleness of the notes and harmonies but also for the complex string of emotions that come with it. And because it's so beautifully long.

But I only play the beginning, like the beginnings of my troubles in New York. I guess it makes sense, not playing the red of it, because it's only the beginning of my week with Adam, Jack, and Ryan. It has only just started, so I don't need to forget as much. I can save the long version for when I need it.

"Wow," Jack whispers in awe, and I pretend I didn't hear him so I don't blush as hard. I sit awkwardly now, my hands in my lap, my back slouched over again in my lazy modern day human way.

"That sounded familiar," He says softly, and I smile because I hoped he would know it. Well, recognise it.

"Midnight Sonata. It's Beethoven," I say.

"I studied him in school once," he says, still softly, as if he thinks he's going to scare me by speaking too loud, like I'm fragile just like the music I played.

"I like him because he actually names some of his songs. I hate just symphony no.9 and nocturne no. 20. Although I do actually like those songs, Chopin's the most," I stop when I realise he probably doesn't have a clue what I saying. He might, but probably he doesn't know that nocturne no. 20 is written by Chopin, or that it's one of my favourite songs of all time. After a few minutes of me trying to figure out what to say, and Jack just fiddling around with his own keyboard, I pipe up.

"So what do you want to know?" I say. He stops and looks at me, deciding still.

"That," he says, pointing to me, "I wanna play like that,"

"I don't have sheet music. And I suck at reading it anyway. I play by ear, or by watching," I say. He looks at me like I insane, probably because he's used sheet music his whole life.

"How can you play without knowing the notes?" he asks, looking totally confused.

"I make it mine. I can't do that if I copy it right off a piece of paper. Also, it makes it hard to remember if I read it. I just play, and repeat it, and repeat it until I know it and it's right," I say. I place my hands on the first notes of the song and press down, the harmony temporarily flooding the small room. I look over at him.

"Watch," I say, and I only do my right hand, my left hand sitting impatiently on my lap. I do the first three chords as slowly as I can, then I stop and repeat it again.

"I watch, and then I play. Like a game of copy cat, except with a real piano," I say softly, focusing on the music more than my horrible teaching. I speak with the notes instead of trying to explain it in my horrible English. I play one note at a time, one, two, three, and then all together to creat the harmony. Jack try's to copy me on his key board, one not at a time, his long fingers matching up to my own, the same keys at the same time.