Mathieu forgot to mind the time while he played. Not that it mattered, really, when the most pressing matter at hand was to change the sheets on his bed and unpack the bag on the floor, which, if he was to be honest with himself, was something he would gradually do over the next week. He might have played for thirty minutes or three hours by the time he rose from the chair and carefully tucked away his cello into the case for a break, he couldn’t say.
The sky outside had begun to slip into darker shades of grey, softening the sharp angles of the cityscape he saw from his window. Mathieu opened the refrigerator on habit; it was empty save for a jar of homemade jam his dads had packed into his suitcase when he moved in a couple of weeks back.
It had been a lucky find, this studio. It was small; the kitchen was run down as kitchens in old buildings often were, but Mathieu could make do with it. The desk he studied by doubled as a kitchen table whenever he needed some extra space. Old as it was though, Mathieu often went to bed listening to the creak of old wood and wind slipping through cracks, and sometimes the shadows on the walls came with him into his dreams as sinister creatures of teeth and bristling fur, skin stretched tight over bones and rough hands.
He sat down and sorted through the music sheets on the table, and once that were done he brought out his old, clunky laptop from the bag on the floor and sat down to read up on which classes he had this week and when. He pushed the laptop aside and leaned forward, burying his face in his arms. His heart pounded.
He wasn’t ready to go back to the group of strangers whose names he never managed to remember.
Slowly he got up and went for his cello again, sank back down onto the chair and begun to play. Fierce, fast, furious music spilled from the instrument as he played his anxiety away with no consideration for his neighbor.
(Oh Ibelin, you are so endearing when you are cranky :3 I've missed your writing too, love. Mattie will definitely bake and make the whole corridor outside smell like fresh bread and cookies~ And Ibelin can help Mattie with computer stuff, because Mattie is clueless :D)
The music continued throughout the afternoon, coming and going in sporadic intervals. Ibelin looked out the window several times, but the street remained empty, and he came to the conclusion that the music must have been emanating from somewhere inside the apartment building. One of his neighbors must have been a musician, and a very good one at that. Ibelin sat down at his old clunky piano, wondering if he would ever he as good.
Tentative fingers began to key out a careful tune, something slow and familiar, a piece he'd had memorized for years and had long since forgotten the name of. His foster mother had taught children to play for a living, and Ibelin had easily been coerced into learning as well, enchanted by the echoing sounds of her baby grand and the fluid movement of her fingers as they slid over the keys. When she'd taught him all she could, he sought tutelage elsewhere, and had continued to play ever since.
In his freshman year, Ibelin had attempted to take a music course, but he had been beat out for a position as pianist by another, more talented player. Since then, the busy college lifestyle had left him with far less time to play than he would have liked, and his lack of ready access to a piano in the dorms further hindered him. But now he had his own space, tiny though it was, and Ibelin supposed that if his neighbor, whoever they were, was willing to play as loudly as they did, they probably wouldn't mind if Ibelin did as well.
Ibelin flexed his fingers, having finished the slow piece and eager now to move onto something more complex.
{OMG I totally didn't see this comment because you didn't reply directly to mine so it never showed up in my inbox D: I'm sorry!}
It was the sound of the piano that made Mathieu pause. He had heard the music filtering through from somewhere else in the building while he played, but he hadn’t given it enough thought to actually notice until he stopped to switch to another set of music sheets.
He put away his cello for the night and walked around the small studio, searching for the source of the music by ear. He spent a full minute with his ear to the floor and his eyes shut before he concluded that nobody was playing the piano on the floor below. With his eyes closed he followed the sound until he, quite suddenly, hit the wall. He pressed his ear to it and held his breath.
The music came from the studio next door.
Mathieu relaxed, and while he listened he couldn’t help but wonder if the pianist went to the same school as him. Perhaps they had already met. They could possibly be taking some of the same classes. He sat down with his ear to the wall, and that was where he fell asleep some time later.
(Sorry! I was sure I had replied directly to yours for the previous one. And this one comes late T.T I've been tired. I've toyed a little with the idea of making a classmate for Ibelin who tries to hang out with him and genuinely doesn't mind his weirdness all that much, but also sort of unintentionally bullies him at the same time. What do you think? The boys could use someone to interact with outside of their building. It would also be kind of cute and potentially problematic if there was a girl who liked either of them.)
Cloudy skies and rain persisted through the night, and Ibelin struggled to leave the warm comfort of his bed. He'd stayed up late into the night playing, and between the cold weather and his still tired body, the morning did not prove to encouraging. His breakfast was wolfed down, he burned his tongue on his coffee, and by the time he'd crossed campus and made it to the chemistry hall, his canvas shoes were soaked through and Ibelin was sure his feet would freeze off by the end of the lecture.
{That sounds good! Only I think it should be a girl, because Ibelin feels a little less intimidated by girls :) I don't think a girl should like one of them, but maybe a boy? And it would probably be Mattie because Ibelin gives off very distinctive 'don't fucking touch me' vibes ehuehue.}
Chemistry hall during the first lecture of the day tended to be filled to the brim. The faculty had failed to provide the professor with a hall quite big enough to accomodate all of her students, which led to quite a bit of elbow rubbing during class and a complete ban on coffee in any form, lest it got spilled all over someone's documents. Despite the lack of seats by the start of the lecture, a certain someone always managed to single Ibelin out of the crowd and slip in next to him.
Andrea slunk into the seat next to Ibelin, pushed back the hood of her coat and slicked her soaked fringe back from her forehead. She looked every bit as cold and wet as Ibelin. She leaned in closer to Ibelin to peek at his notebook, sank back in her seat and pulled a thick notebook of her own out of her bag.
"Morning," she whispered to him. "Did you finish our assignment for Wednesday yet?"
"No. I was going to work on it tonight," Ibelin answered, frowning. It always seemed strange to him that despite the size of the class and the numerous other, more interesting people she could associate with, Andrea often made a point to seek him out. It couldn't be because she hoped to copy off his work; Ibelin worked hard and achieved high grades, but he couldn't possibly be the smartest person here. And he wasn't blind; Ibelin was well aware of how hopeless and rusty his social skills were. So why Andrea seemed insistent on trying to be his friend was, to put it mildly, baffling.
{I'm so sorry I've been slacking on our boys, love! It's just been a super hectic month @_@}
“Good.” Andrea fished a ballpoint pen out from a chest pocket on her shirt and scribbled an unintelligible note in her book. “So,” she continued, unaware of Ibelin’s confusion, as always, “that means we can work on it together.”
Andrea rolled her eyes. “Of course not, dork. I meant later,” she whispered, leaning in a little closer. “Like, this afternoon. I’ll buy you dinner of your choice.”
(Awesome! :D Do tell how it goes! I'm looking for a job too, but I'm mostly limited to those that don't require experience since I can't write Swedish.)
Ibelin coughed. "Uh, sure. I guess," he said, feeling his cheeks warm. He didn't understand why Andrea always wanted to spend time with him. Nobody ever wanted to spend time with Ibelin.
Andrea settled for that answer and propped her chin up with a hand, turning her attention to the professor speaking at the front of the room.
They shared more than just lectures; Andrea took programming classes with him and did, more often than not, snag the spot next to Ibelin by the window in the back of the classroom. She talked at him during breaks, engaged him in conversations that Ibelin took minimal part in, though Andrea never took notice of that, and reminded him of their agreed meeting later that afternoon to complete their homework.
She picked a restaurant not far from campus for their meeting spot. It had an air of something old but not dusty or worn down about it and was a little more cluttered than convenience allowed, but it was dry and warm and served up simple, hot meals and drinks. Andrea had picked a table in a far corner and spread her things out on the table; literature for class, notes, pens, her cell phone.
(I've thought a bit about where Ibelin and Mattie can run into each other- there is obviously their building where they can meet outside their doors and while getting the mail and stuff, but I'm thinking that Mattie works at a restaurant/pub, so they could run into each other there. Andrea could take Ibelin to the place? You could think a bit on the person in Mattie's classes who has a crush on him~)
"Why do you always have to take up the whole table with your stuff?" Ibelin asks when he approaches the table. "We're not even doing English lit homework, why do you have your books out?"
It's not, perhaps, the nicest way to greet someone, but Ibelin never pretends to be anything but blunt and unfriendly.
{Yeah, that sounds good! Or maybe a coffee shop? Most students in the US live inside Starbucks XD}
The sky outside had begun to slip into darker shades of grey, softening the sharp angles of the cityscape he saw from his window. Mathieu opened the refrigerator on habit; it was empty save for a jar of homemade jam his dads had packed into his suitcase when he moved in a couple of weeks back.
It had been a lucky find, this studio. It was small; the kitchen was run down as kitchens in old buildings often were, but Mathieu could make do with it. The desk he studied by doubled as a kitchen table whenever he needed some extra space. Old as it was though, Mathieu often went to bed listening to the creak of old wood and wind slipping through cracks, and sometimes the shadows on the walls came with him into his dreams as sinister creatures of teeth and bristling fur, skin stretched tight over bones and rough hands.
He sat down and sorted through the music sheets on the table, and once that were done he brought out his old, clunky laptop from the bag on the floor and sat down to read up on which classes he had this week and when. He pushed the laptop aside and leaned forward, burying his face in his arms. His heart pounded.
He wasn’t ready to go back to the group of strangers whose names he never managed to remember.
Slowly he got up and went for his cello again, sank back down onto the chair and begun to play. Fierce, fast, furious music spilled from the instrument as he played his anxiety away with no consideration for his neighbor.
(Oh Ibelin, you are so endearing when you are cranky :3 I've missed your writing too, love. Mattie will definitely bake and make the whole corridor outside smell like fresh bread and cookies~ And Ibelin can help Mattie with computer stuff, because Mattie is clueless :D)
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Tentative fingers began to key out a careful tune, something slow and familiar, a piece he'd had memorized for years and had long since forgotten the name of. His foster mother had taught children to play for a living, and Ibelin had easily been coerced into learning as well, enchanted by the echoing sounds of her baby grand and the fluid movement of her fingers as they slid over the keys. When she'd taught him all she could, he sought tutelage elsewhere, and had continued to play ever since.
In his freshman year, Ibelin had attempted to take a music course, but he had been beat out for a position as pianist by another, more talented player. Since then, the busy college lifestyle had left him with far less time to play than he would have liked, and his lack of ready access to a piano in the dorms further hindered him. But now he had his own space, tiny though it was, and Ibelin supposed that if his neighbor, whoever they were, was willing to play as loudly as they did, they probably wouldn't mind if Ibelin did as well.
Ibelin flexed his fingers, having finished the slow piece and eager now to move onto something more complex.
{OMG I totally didn't see this comment because you didn't reply directly to mine so it never showed up in my inbox D: I'm sorry!}
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He put away his cello for the night and walked around the small studio, searching for the source of the music by ear. He spent a full minute with his ear to the floor and his eyes shut before he concluded that nobody was playing the piano on the floor below. With his eyes closed he followed the sound until he, quite suddenly, hit the wall. He pressed his ear to it and held his breath.
The music came from the studio next door.
Mathieu relaxed, and while he listened he couldn’t help but wonder if the pianist went to the same school as him. Perhaps they had already met. They could possibly be taking some of the same classes. He sat down with his ear to the wall, and that was where he fell asleep some time later.
(Sorry! I was sure I had replied directly to yours for the previous one. And this one comes late T.T I've been tired. I've toyed a little with the idea of making a classmate for Ibelin who tries to hang out with him and genuinely doesn't mind his weirdness all that much, but also sort of unintentionally bullies him at the same time. What do you think? The boys could use someone to interact with outside of their building. It would also be kind of cute and potentially problematic if there was a girl who liked either of them.)
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{That sounds good! Only I think it should be a girl, because Ibelin feels a little less intimidated by girls :) I don't think a girl should like one of them, but maybe a boy? And it would probably be Mattie because Ibelin gives off very distinctive 'don't fucking touch me' vibes ehuehue.}
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Andrea slunk into the seat next to Ibelin, pushed back the hood of her coat and slicked her soaked fringe back from her forehead. She looked every bit as cold and wet as Ibelin. She leaned in closer to Ibelin to peek at his notebook, sank back in her seat and pulled a thick notebook of her own out of her bag.
"Morning," she whispered to him. "Did you finish our assignment for Wednesday yet?"
(So late @_@ But at least I'm all settled in now)
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{I'm so sorry I've been slacking on our boys, love! It's just been a super hectic month @_@}
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She shot him an expectant look.
(No worries~ How's the search for a job going?)
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{Pretty good! I have an interview today and then I'm waiting to here back from some people. I'm also going to apply at a Starbucks.}
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(Awesome! :D Do tell how it goes! I'm looking for a job too, but I'm mostly limited to those that don't require experience since I can't write Swedish.)
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They shared more than just lectures; Andrea took programming classes with him and did, more often than not, snag the spot next to Ibelin by the window in the back of the classroom. She talked at him during breaks, engaged him in conversations that Ibelin took minimal part in, though Andrea never took notice of that, and reminded him of their agreed meeting later that afternoon to complete their homework.
She picked a restaurant not far from campus for their meeting spot. It had an air of something old but not dusty or worn down about it and was a little more cluttered than convenience allowed, but it was dry and warm and served up simple, hot meals and drinks. Andrea had picked a table in a far corner and spread her things out on the table; literature for class, notes, pens, her cell phone.
(I've thought a bit about where Ibelin and Mattie can run into each other- there is obviously their building where they can meet outside their doors and while getting the mail and stuff, but I'm thinking that Mattie works at a restaurant/pub, so they could run into each other there. Andrea could take Ibelin to the place? You could think a bit on the person in Mattie's classes who has a crush on him~)
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It's not, perhaps, the nicest way to greet someone, but Ibelin never pretends to be anything but blunt and unfriendly.
{Yeah, that sounds good! Or maybe a coffee shop? Most students in the US live inside Starbucks XD}
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