The Music of Us.

The Search

When I woke up, the hangover of the emptiness was still there. It hardly went away by itself if Demo didn't make me smile, or I created a song that I thought was worth it. While I shower, the heaviness in my chest gave me the feeling that I was being dragged down, that I was too weak to stand. Would I hear his voice again? It was so exhilarating the thought that I would, but at the same time stupid to think that I depended in that for my day to be exciting.

"I'm late, I'll eat something later," I mumbled to my aunt, who was ready to have breakfast with me.

"It's ok. I'm just happy that you are taking attendance seriously."

I couldn't tell her the bet I had with Demo. I would disappoint her even more if she knew that I wanted to escape her house.

I thanked as well as cursed so much the fact that I didn't come across that shorty in the whole day. His voice brought me a bittersweet nostalgia. One that made me think too deeply about the events of my past. But, at the same time, with the little I heard, his voice took me to another place. It was a similar feeling like when I hear the most beautiful melodies from Demo. I didn't know what I was going to do, but that flea was going to be in our band.

"I feel you are absent, Eli," Demo woke me up during our holy hour of club activities. "Did something happen?"

"Have you ever been rejected?"

"Who do I have to kill?" He asked again, clashing his right fist in his left palm.

"No one, Demo, relax. It's not a matter of love. Do you remember that I told you I heard the song yesterday?" Demo nodded. "Well, let's say an oompa loompa was singing it. Demo, his voice was out of this world."

"Sounds interesting if it has caught your attention."

"Yeah, he is. But the asshole doesn't want to be part of our band. Something about a stupid scenic panic," I crossed my arms and waited for my best friend to support me, which he didn't.

"Elira, maybe for him is not that stupid."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, maybe I didn't treat him that great. But it's so irritating when someone has a big talent and doesn't exploit it."

"Do you know his name?"

"No, why?"

"Then the search is going to be harder."

We spent the holy club hour trying to find a flea in a Great Dane. Our school had many classrooms and in each of them we looked at all of the different features each student had. I described to Demo that the hobbit had greenish eyes, and a peculiar little freckle in his right upper lip. His hair was lighter than Demo's and he was as pale as me. With that information, Demo became Sherlock and me, his dear Watson.

"Are these irises' colors close to our suspect's?" He asked me with an elegant and deep tone of voice.

I caressed my chin while the poor student looked at us disturbed at why we were pointing out his eyes so closely.

"They're more like a mold color with a mud mixture," I answer him with the same tone making Demo laugh.

"Interesting," he giggled, and we ran out of the orchestra club.

Then, even though the chorus club was in the middle of rehearsal, we snuck in. Demo got closer to me and whispered to my ear,

"Is that him? The boy in the left corner resembles a lot of your description," I shifted my vision to his suggestion and got hit by a 6-foot-tall guy.

"Demo, take this search seriously."

"Sorry, sorry," he laughed.

By the time the holy club hour ended, we didn't have a clue as to where the hobbit was. We didn't know exactly where to look. Until, an idea lit up in my brain.