Sleeping With Fainters (Private)

It is after school. My usual place, the band club room, is where I'm at.

At the piano is where I sit. Simply playing.

Nothing in particular. Just the feeling that comes naturally from my heart flowing into the tips of my fingers.

It is a more soothing sound. A quiet form of playing and one with many rests but just as good as a normal song.

I'll often record it and then play it back. Afterward trying to replicate it by ear and write certain parts down.

Often times I can arrange a few of the parts, add more to them, and create a piece worth playing many more times to come.

This time, though, I have no recording software up. No computer on.

Just me and the instrument.

Chika was supposed to start school here today. I wonder how it went.

My playing accidentally begins to morph into a song I know more as I think.

Soon my brain becomes concious of what my heart wants to do and I cave to it's will.

I've played this song before so it isn't too hard.

The style is still slow but this time it is much more heavy. Forte instead of mezzoforte.

Playing a simplified verson of the original but it is simplified for the sake of being more powerful while being easier to sing which allows for strong vocals. Creating a more powerful song in itself.

(For instance instead of playing four quick B flats I'll play two more powerful B flats in the same amount of time given.)

I begin with my slightly altered vocals in English.

"Is it naive to make plans
That seem so far away. I cannot help but feel this way
You're sleeping all alone, I'm awake
When you dream of me tonight, am I close to where you are?"

A recognizable figure comes through the door way at this time. I don't do much other than give her a welcoming smile through my moving mouth.

Throughout my singing I also glance up from the keys every once in a while at the spectator with that same grin.

My voice stays the same but on the chorus the piano part is louder. Fortissimo now.

"Lay me down
And tell me everything will be alright
Things will be just right
Lay me down
And tell me everything will be alright"
(My voice becomes louder to match the piano now.)
"Things will be just fine"
(And back down to normal.)
"This could be everything or nothing at all
You should take what is real
And I'll give you me all."

I play the part at the beginning of the chorus and that quick fourth note is where I end it.

"Hm. Hey there. I see you found the room okay."

Chika leans in the doorway with her portable amplifier in hand and guitar case strapped to her back. Her hair is more messy than usual and her dark eyes twinkle, her eyebrows arched in slight surprise and her lips in an amused, wry half-smile. She slowly applauds as she casually slinks into the room.

"Well shit. That wasn't half bad. I didn't know you can play and sing like that, Mr. Casanova~"

She gives him a punch on the shoulder and cocks her head, peering at the keys with her arms akimbo.

"Haha-grazie-grazie."

I give a nervous laugh. I was never the type to feel worthy of praise even if it actually was ever deserved.

"I come from a naturally musical family. Just seems to be everyone's interest so I've had plenty of time to learn."

I study Chika's outfit. Her school uniform is unbuttoned to reveal a T-shirt underneath. Not exactly recognizing the name on the shirt but I can definitely tell it is a band.

"What about you? How did you get interested in the instruments you play?"

Out of habit I play a couple notes more on the piano and then stop myself because I'd rather put more energy into this conversation.

"Scoot over a bit."

Chika sits aside him and stretches her limbs, relaxing.

"Well.....my ma and pa are both famous musicians. Naturally, it'd pass down to me...the talent to play that is but no... I had to learn. I first got into music like arouuuuund.....seven or eight, I think?"

Chika squints her eyes and her mouth moves to the side as she tries to remember the exact age.

"Somethin' like that. Anyway, I snuck down to the basement where my mum, dad, godmother and godfather would jam. They let me watch and eventually I got a guitar of my own. Then, it all came from there."

I scoot myself over and let Chika sit.

The stool is quite small and our sides are touching about...well...all over.

I myself am the feely-touchy type so I don't mind, but I'm more worried how much she cares about it.

"Hm~..."

My little hum holds the feeling of warmth just from tickling the ears of anyone in range.

The thought of family creates a lighter aura eminating from me.

"My family would host a music party every summer, but I've told you that already haven't I?"

"After we'd switch to acoustics I'd also perform even if I had minimal experience with instruments."

"Eventually, when I came of age, I picked up being a percussionist in my old school's band."

"After showing some aptitude for that, my family gave me a cajon drum and soon after a drum set."

Thoughts of family cloud my conciousness as I begin to, once again, speak purely from my heart.

"It wasn't until middle school that I started picking up more than rhythmic instruments."

"Like now, every day I would try to learn how to perform various songs I found interesting. The only difference is it was before music class started instead of after school like now."

I flip my hair out of my face before looking at the girl for the first time since I've started talking on this subject.

"One day, I was playing on my brother's bell kit at home and my puppah noticed that I was playing many more than songs my band was learning."

"That Christmas, he ended up getting a piano for the family."

"I was probably about 13."

I begin to play a heavily simplified version of Apology: piano (dynamic) for the sake of dealing with the overwhelming urge to play an instrument occupying most of my vision-acting like a horse's blinders while speaking to a girl occupying most of my attention.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAHfl_ouCaE

"That's when it all began."

"Started recording and arranging music about two years after."

"My mummah is probably my number one fan for that stuff, though, since I don't generally put it online."

Chika lets her fingers absentmindedly waltz on the keys while listening causing them to twinkle lightly like glimmering stars before he plays. She closes her eyes and absorbs the music, tapping lightly against the edge of the stool. The close proximity bothers her none; she never really pays attention to her surroundings or situations. Involved but not completely.

"I see. Huh....."

Chika toys with her hair and rests her head on her arms against the piano.

"I would love to do something like that... Music party. Happily jamming and playing around. Support for what you do... My family is so...distant. Nick...Pa...."

She shakes her head.

"Sorry...forget that. I'm dampening the conversation. Anyway...."

My playing stops at the mention of her wish.

I tilt my head (not turning it much) and look at Chika then gesture toward her guitar case.

A silent language of 'well, what are you doing just moping in a jail cell when you have one key to your freedom on your back and another up against you to the right?'

I stand and stretch before getting my drum sticks out of my bag.

Going to the set without even another word.

Chika has drifted off into thought like she always does but snaps back to reality to see your somewhat sardonic (to her) gaze and gesture. She shrugs and takes off the guitar case as it is weighing heavily on her shoulders. She stands up going to sit on another chair in the room to allow her more space. Chika opens the case to reveal a teal coloured, prepared Fender Stratocaster. There are various small objects in between the strings such as pencils and bobby pins clipping some strings together among other things

Teal just happens to be my favorite color so I end up not even paying attention to anything else on the guitar really.

My grin appears back across my cheeks.

With an assumption that she knows what I'm going for, I speak to Chika.

"Know any songs I might know? If you want to play one that I wont know I can do improv."

Chika looks up and nods before taking her guitar out of the case. She removes the objects and drops them each in the case. Finding an outlet to plug the portable amp in, she shuts the door and plugs in her guitar, tuning the strings back to standard.

"Noisy? Clean? Soft? Hard? What will your order be today, Chief?"

"Any is good."

"Even if it's a piece I don't need to play anything for, it's fine with me."

Chika gives a disaffected raise of the eyebrows.

"Oh, oh, alright."

She flicks the distortion off and takes out an old yen coin to use for a pick. She cracks her neck to the side before beginning.

Surprisingly the drum set player for the band in that song has a similar style to my own.

This causes my beats to be similar to his. The only differences in the beginning is I start first, play with less rests, and I play more like:

B H S H-B-H-B H S-H H__%
(open hi-hat on the end beat before repeating.)

Every few repeats I'll also interrupt it with a run of some kind.

Every so often changing the beat I play.

2 minutes 25 seconds into the song I don't stop because I don't know the song enough to know there is a pause there in the drum set.

Like the drummer in the song as we draw near the end I begin to think:

This part sounds like it could be a little more awesome with the way Chika is playing right now.

And I begin to put in a faster part with a lot more runs.

The ritardando is something I'm a little late on but I generally stay leashed to the girl.

The end I finish with two hits on the crash cymbal (one after Chika plays her last note because-once again-I've never heard the piece before).

I can't help but give a big smile after we're done, looking at her looking at me.

Chika stares at the instrument, furrowing her eyebrows in extreme dissatisfaction. Then she shakes her head.

"No, no, no....ugh...that's not me either! Fucking piece of dinosaur shit...."

She rolls her eyes and thumbs him up.

"You were good. You...a-ok."

I cover my mouth and chuckle like a girl for a moment and then when I realize how feminine I am acting I hurry and put my hand down but still grin from the laugh.

That was an interesting thing she did there.

"Hmhm..Yeah, I'm fine."

"Only played a single song and you already look like you need a breather from that guitar."

I stand.

"Come on, lets grab a bite."

"Yeah, let's do that."

She sets the guitar back in its case and waits on him by the door.

*Rattle-rattle*

The sticks in my bag seem to shout in pain as I put my drum sticks back.

Walking over I follow Chika out.

School is over so we find ourselves making our way out of the school.

Chika walks silently in the direction of the the main gate, the metal tinted yellow by the afternoon sun.

"I need to reinvent myself...everything is boring me and frustrating me lately. Things just....are. I don't even know why I'm here. I just followed my brother to this place like I always do. Play regular rock like everyone else does. Indulge myself in apathy like every teenager my age does. Like....Chika, who the hell are you, ya know?"

She pauses in her tangent and then goes on regardless if you're listening or not.

"....Maybe I'm on my period or something... That's a possibility...."

I am indeed listening.

For someone who gets lost in thought so often, I am incredibly good at listening to others.

In a world where you are naturally interupted more than anyone else especially with family, you pick up certain talents having to do with pacience.

Perhaps it's my accepting behavior or self-spoken attitude that causes it.

"You're sounding like a regular-old-hipster right now."

"I say just live life who you are and don't care whether you're acting like someone else or not. That's the way I do it."

"I tell ya, too many people worry so much about if they act like someone else or not."

"I mean, damn, why do people care so much?"

'....Maybe I'm on my period or something... That's a possibility....'

After hearing such a statement I make a sound through my nose similar to one that is made when people laugh through their nose.

That snorting sound.

However this is not one of laughter, nor is it of disgust.

I guess you could call it one of question.

*snort*-"Hehwha~hut?!"

I myself am the perfect guy stereotype (except for the part about being borderlined-retarded and being obsessed with sex). I always like me some cars, some TV, and damned-well some weapons, but I also become very uncomfortable at the talk of femininal..eh..'issues.'

Chika swiftly turns around and prods her finger hard into his chest.

"Call me that....ever again....and I will make sure your balls are shoved down your windpipe, got it?!"

She continues walking in a huff, her mood more sour than ever. Anger issues seem to run fast in the family as well. She exits the campus and stops at the bus stop, taking a seat and rapidly tapping her foot.

I never took too kindly to threats.

I rarely become angry. Threatening me or anyone I care about gets me pretty close to such a mood, though.

Infact, a threat has the strangest effect on me where it actually makes me fear the threatener even less.

Especially in this case when they are half a head shorter than me, actually skinnier than me, and someone likely unfit for any hostile situation.

Basically anybody who is generally cute in any way as well.

I'd need proof of ferocity in order to actually be intimidated by someone.

Not even fear. Just intimidated.

My only fears are generally a fear of moderate heights and the loss of a loved one.

Anything else I have a talent of being able to stare down.

The moment that finger touches my chest I step forward into that finger. So close to my situational adversary I could breathe and it would impact.

Staring her down (literally), these few, cold words pass through my vocal cords.

I myself do not mention that I 'got it.'

It sounds childish, but when someone doesn't say something nicely to me I make little regard to following any orders unless they are above my status or they have rights to speak to me in such a manor.

"Whether I call you that again or not is dependant on your actions. Clear?"

I myself stand at the bus stop. Leaning on the post with my eyes shut. Both my arms and legs crossed.

Barely a peep escapes my lips.

Chika snorts, getting more annoyed by the second. She blows a raspberry and rolls her eyes, waiting for the bus. Being that her family had a history of threats that probably would have been followed up on if the threatened hadn't obeyed or have been followed up on regardless as well as her grandmother being a former mafia and Head of Discipline at Yamaku, she finds his current attitude slightly amusing but moreso infuriating. The bus pulls up and she steps on, making her way all the way to the back for a seat.

Regardless of her sour mood, I sit in the same seat.

We are going together, after all and I am a hard one to truly be annoyed.

I mean, I grew up with three older brothers.

My voice holds no repent for my actions but also no grudge against her's.

"Where do you want to go to eat? Know anywhere good?"

I myself have found a couple good corner-places in the city from my nights out but I always ask anyone else what they would like to do first.

My gentleman's code practically dictates my wants come second.

"I dunno. Fast food or somethin'. You choose."

BOOM, BABY.

I'm noticeably lighter-faced at my ability to choose.

"Then I got a couple places in town I've heard good reviews about."

After the bus gets to our stop I pull on Chika's hand.

"Come on! Schnell!"

My order to make haste was given with glee instead of a harsh voice like what such language is usually said with.

We end up going to a fairly small family-oriented place. Looks as if it was built a little while ago and was renounced in this area to be good.