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Ivan's fingers dance on the black and white keys in front of him, his fingers working to accommodate the crescendo, his eyes flying across the music sheet. He reads the musical notes as easily as he breathes, and he holds his breath as he enters the hardest part of the piece. Aborting the sheet in front of him, he closes his eyes, and lets the music lead his fingers. The music grows intense, some keys sounding harsher than others, the notes flying all over the place, and he imagines the madness of insanity falling against him. As the build-up peaks, he lets himself press the keys harder and harder, and all he has to hit is the last note, when— he messes up the B flat.
He breathes out, his eyes snapping open. He has half the mind to slam his fingers against the keys of the grand piano (who needs to learn Gaspard de la Nuit anyway? Not him, certainly.), when he hears a shy clap.
"That's Ravel's hardest piece, right?" A silver haired man asks when Ivan looks up. He's stunned into silence when he sees the man's beauty. Geez, maybe Maurice isn't too bad after all. "Gaspard… de la nuit?"
"Yeah," Ivan answers, and he clears his throat. "Yeah, it is."
He supposes he should've expected an audience when he's in the school music room. Though, it rarely ever happened, as it was lunch…
"It sounded really good." The compliment sounded unsure, but Ivan took it anyway. He takes that the other guy's shy. Most guys don't like giving people such straightforward compliments.
"Thanks," Ivan smiles. Then they kinda just stand there. Ivan, because he's still a little annoyed about his mess-up, and the other guy… because he isn't moving.
Does he want Ivan to teach him? Ivan wouldn't mind teaching him. He's really cute.
"Do you want me to teach you?" Ivan offers.
"You'll… what?" The guy's eyes widened.
"Teach you. To play." Ivan tilts his head to the side.
"Oh. Oh!" He says, like he just got it. "…I'm not opposed to the idea," A toothy grin is what he got, and the guy making his way to sit beside Ivan on the bench. With its size, they're hip-to-hip. Ivan feels himself blush a little.
"I'm Till," The guy, Till, introduces himself.
"I'm Ivan." Ivan smiles. He thinks they'll get along well.
They spent that first lunch period learning how to read notes. Sight reading is an important skill, after all. Luckily, Till picked it up pretty easily.
("Huh, you're picking this up pretty quickly for a novice, Till."
"You can just say I'm a genius, you know."
"Hm… I don't know. You don't quite fit the bill."
"Says who?"
"Says me, of course. Who else is the genius around?"
"You say that now."
"Oh? What's this, a challenge? And on the first day of our lessons, too!"
"I'll make you eat your words, dipshit.")
Then, they spend the next few lessons (lunch times) actually applying the notes, playing on the piano.
("No, Till, to the left. Left more. More… Oh, dear, just— here."
"I don't know what you mean. It sounds exactly the same."
"Are you tone deaf? You weren't even close!"
"Just admit you wanted to hold my hand."
"Do I? Or are you purposely playing the wrong note so that you can have me hold your hand?")
Then, came the scales. This one, Till hated.
("What's the point of scales!"
"It's supposed to teach you how to move your hands faster and have you familiarised with the names of the notes. Now listen and stop staring a hole into me."
"Can't, too busy admiring your pretty face. Hey, did anyone ever say your sky looks like the night sky?"
"Why?"
"'Cuz the dandruffs dotting your hair look like sta— ack, wait, Ivan, I'm sorry! I'm kidding, have mERCYHAHGCKAJAGAHGA—")
And then they proceeded to start out with pieces, soon after. They're going at a pretty fast pace, but to Till's credit, he's very easy to teach.
("Why're we still stuck at nursery rhymes?"
"Maybe because your skill level is still at that of a nursery child's."
"You're mean. The teacher's competence directly affects the student's results, y'know!"
"Are you saying I'm not competent?"
"Ack— Ivan, listen, I was kidding— Please, don't tickle mE AHAKSJOCOGKF—")
And of course, now, Till's at a level where he can play at the same time with Ivan. Like right now.
Ivan smiles as he hears the simple melody of Till, playing the opening of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. It was simple, but he's managed to make it less rigid and more fluid. Ivan soon enters, adding fillers here and there, smiling to himself, listening to both of their melody lines overlapping. He enjoys seeing his slender fingers alongside Till's more calloused ones, an effect of sports. It almost feels like they're both dancing on the piano keys.
"Twinkle twinkle little star," Till's voice cuts the serene silence, singing along with the piece. "how I wonder what you are." His voice is a little ruff, deep, but it's lost its usual aggression, opting for a softness that fits perfectly with a nursery rhyme
"Up above the world so high," Ivan sings along on the next line, and he feels a little silly, feeling so happy singing a silly nursery rhyme. "like a diamond in the sky."
They continue singing like that, happy with themselves.
Soon, their meet-ups in the music room at lunch are less about piano lessons, and more about each other.
They start bringing their lunches along, and they eat criss-crossed against the walls of the windows, the spring air flooding into the room. They hear the chaos of lunch, far and high enough from it to consider it a nice addition to their school ambiance.
"Woah, your lunch looks amazing," Till comments when Ivan opens his lunch box, and he tilts his head bashfully. "Your girlfriend make it?"
"I— Huh? What girlfriend?" He feels himself frown, brows furrowing. "I don't have a girlfriend. I made it myself."
"Oh! I just— y'know, assumed, because it looked nice and all…" Till quickly responded, and he almost sounded… relieved?
"Pft, why, are you jealous?" Ivan laughs, using his chopsticks to pick up a bit of rice. "Kidding. I can make you one if you want,"
"Dude." Ivan looks over, and Till almost looks like he's blushing. "You, like, totally acted like a girl would."
"You're disgusting!" Ivan laughs. "What, d'you think I'm all, 'oh, Till, let's gallivant off into the sunset with these lunches I'm offering to make you!'"
They both laugh it off.
(They both also ignore their twin blush, and the way their hearts started beating faster.)
And months pass like that, with the two of them spending their lunches in the music room. It was spring, when they first met. Now it's winter.
Ivan's rushing through the courtyard, the snow dotting his black hair and his jacket. He's around 20 minutes late because of a meeting in the student council that lasted longer than he thought it would, so he's trying to hurry. Climbing up a flight of stairs and trying his best not to run, opting to speed-walk, he rushes towards the music room.
Down the corridor, he hears the echoes of Etude Op. 4 No. 4 of Chopin. The technique sounded amazing, and he can almost vividly see the fingers of the player dancing to play the piece. It was beautiful, and he can almost feel the fiery personality of the player shining through the way they played the already melodic madness of the piece.
He… Who's playing?
He opens the door, and is greeted with the sight of none other than Till, in all his brilliant glory. He's playing a difficult piece as if he was breathing — and he didn't even have a music sheet with him. He's playing entirely on muscle memory!
He lets the other finish, and he watches as the silver haired man leaves a small, satisfied sight, before he opens his eyes. Which goes wide at the sight of Ivan. He merely raises a brow.
"So?" He says, closing the door, and crossing his arms. "Were you gonna tell me you already knew how to play, or?"
"…I learned to play this in between our lessons?" Even Till cringes at the weak lie. Ivan continues to look unimpressed.
"Or not." Till continues. He fidgets a bit with his fingers, before continuing. "I already knew how to play…"
"And you let me teach you from scratch because…?" Ivan prompts Till. He'll hear the other out. After all, he maybe, maybe, finds the other boy too endearing to get mad.
"Because… I wanted to ask you out?" Till asks as if he's unsure. Then he shakes his head and stands up from the bench. "Because I wanted to ask you out. And we weren't close, so I didn't really have a chance. When you offered to teach me, I took the chance to get closer."
"Oh." Ivan says. He's pretty sure he can be a compact heater with how much he's flushing. He could make a commercial. Cold from winter? No fret! The Red Ivan is here to warm you up from his sheer blushing!
"Yeah. Oh." Till, luckily, still has some spirit in him to snort and laugh.
"…Then ask me out." Ivan squeaks out.
"Huh—?"
"Have you gone deaf? I thought I taught you better than that. I said, then ask me out."
They both stare at each other, faces equally red.
Then, Till steps forward. And when Ivan doesn't step away, he continues to move closer, until they're face to face.
He cradles Ivan's cheeks, and then dusts his hair.
"Did anyone ever say your hair looks like the night sky?" Till grins.
Ivan snorts. Of course, the other's such a sap. "Why?"
"Because the snowflakes look like stars, and your hair is a dark void. But that wouldn't be fair. Because you're the star, not the snowflakes. The way you laugh and the way you smile and the way you cook me lunch and the way you hold my hand to teach me a note I already know and the way you sing along nursery rhymes with me and look so giddy and happy about it. You're the brilliant one."
Ivan's pretty sure he can't get any redder than this.
"And I want to go out with you. Won't you go out with me?"
"…Who's taught you to be such a sap?" Ivan murmurs, cheeks still held by Till.
"Maybe you're rubbing off on me too much."
"No such thing."
"Really?"
"Really. And if there is, you'll have to get used to it."
"Hmm? Is that a yes I'm hearing?"
"I don't see why it isn't."
"But I wanna hear it directly."
"Hmm… Maybe you'll have to kiss me first to hear a yes."
"Kissing before dating? A scandal!"
Ivan laughs, but slaps Till's cheeks to retaliate. "Just kiss me, idiot. Lunch is about to end."
And, well, you could say their melody lines overlap again. Except they're meeting in the middle. Much like the kiss they're sharing now, and the kisses to come.