[Transformers] {Fic} Discordant
Title: Discordant
Fandom: Transformers
Table: Discography - Michael Jackson
Prompt: 090 - Music and Me [lyrics]
Rating: PG
A/N: Unbetaed and obscure. Sorry.
Summary: It's lonely to be the only one who knows you're lying.
In the dark room, music played, solemn and sweet, with a child's high voice and innocent honesty.
Music from home didn't sound anything like this, didn't make him feel the way that Earth music did, didn't drag emotions fighting and shooting wildly from him with one simple haunting melody or how one clear, piercing note from an angry vocalist could.
Music from home was not deceptive, it was carefully layered, put together with only one emotion, and one interpretation in mind. Joy. Praise. Honour. Anger. Sadness. It played, and he felt what the music had been made for him to feel. But Earth music... it lied. It was dishonest, impure, impractical, spontaneous and crazy. It had rhythms that sometimes made no sense, words that didn't match the emotion of the music, songs that sounded happy, yet were upon second-listen about something horrific. He felt through all of those songs, torn between mixed emotions. Love and hate, peace and discord, happy being sad, sad to be happy. Some heavy songs made him feel the desperate need to interface, others made him laugh, and one song, something new and still raw, had filled him with such a violent hate for everyone's existence that he had been halfway towards the engine room before his common sense had regained control.
Earth music was dangerous, but Primus help him, music was his life, and he couldn't stay away from it even if he'd tried. The abundance of emotions, though, and the way they could change his mindset with a simple combination of notes, beats and words, held so much sway over him, that sometimes he got lost.
Lost wasn't good. He could lose his place if he indulged too much.
Like now.
Finally, away from the others, in a dark place where he felt no optics upon him, he felt he could let go, just drop his facade and show his true self, if only for a little while.
But these little whiles were growing longer and longer now. The stress of his life outside of this room becomming too hard to maintain, his upkeep was getting shoddy and he could feel his control slipping away milimeter by milimeter as the orns went on.
He tried to be sociable, and the life of the party. It was his toughest assignment yet, but he felt he was doing a fantastic job of it. No one knew, no one even suspected, that it took every ounce of his willpower to smile sometimes.
He was a pretender, and he was good. The best. But it always surprised him how quickly those around him forgot. Even of those closest to him, none had shown any signs of concern.
Could he be blamed for wanting to sabotage himself sometimes?
He shifted his weight where he was curled against the wall, his arms wrapped hard around himself. His optics were half shuttered while he listened, and fed his addiction with sound.
The tune was simple, and sad. In the dark of the room it was the only clear thing to focus on, honest in its lonliness in a way that he wasn't. The child's voice, tremulous and achingly sad, touched him in places he often pretended that he didn't have, and wished now that he'd had the courage to explore earlier. Perhaps then he wouldn't be so destroyed by them now.
He didn't want to be as lonely as this child sounded, and he knew that he didn't have to be. But bridging that gap... all of his carefully layered lies would go tumbling away, and everyone would see him for what he was. Then he would be left with nothing.
He didn't want to pretend anymore. He wanted this to be his home. But no... Better that he have something left, even if it was just his lies and his music, than to have nothing.
But he would never know what was possible, if he did not try.
Decision made, when the music came to its quiet end, he folded away his lies and his tears into a little box, the sum of everything that was not him, and left the room.
Or that is what Jazz would have liked to have done, had he the courage.
Fandom: Transformers
Table: Discography - Michael Jackson
Prompt: 090 - Music and Me [lyrics]
Rating: PG
A/N: Unbetaed and obscure. Sorry.
Summary: It's lonely to be the only one who knows you're lying.
In the dark room, music played, solemn and sweet, with a child's high voice and innocent honesty.
Music from home didn't sound anything like this, didn't make him feel the way that Earth music did, didn't drag emotions fighting and shooting wildly from him with one simple haunting melody or how one clear, piercing note from an angry vocalist could.
Music from home was not deceptive, it was carefully layered, put together with only one emotion, and one interpretation in mind. Joy. Praise. Honour. Anger. Sadness. It played, and he felt what the music had been made for him to feel. But Earth music... it lied. It was dishonest, impure, impractical, spontaneous and crazy. It had rhythms that sometimes made no sense, words that didn't match the emotion of the music, songs that sounded happy, yet were upon second-listen about something horrific. He felt through all of those songs, torn between mixed emotions. Love and hate, peace and discord, happy being sad, sad to be happy. Some heavy songs made him feel the desperate need to interface, others made him laugh, and one song, something new and still raw, had filled him with such a violent hate for everyone's existence that he had been halfway towards the engine room before his common sense had regained control.
Earth music was dangerous, but Primus help him, music was his life, and he couldn't stay away from it even if he'd tried. The abundance of emotions, though, and the way they could change his mindset with a simple combination of notes, beats and words, held so much sway over him, that sometimes he got lost.
Lost wasn't good. He could lose his place if he indulged too much.
Like now.
Finally, away from the others, in a dark place where he felt no optics upon him, he felt he could let go, just drop his facade and show his true self, if only for a little while.
But these little whiles were growing longer and longer now. The stress of his life outside of this room becomming too hard to maintain, his upkeep was getting shoddy and he could feel his control slipping away milimeter by milimeter as the orns went on.
He tried to be sociable, and the life of the party. It was his toughest assignment yet, but he felt he was doing a fantastic job of it. No one knew, no one even suspected, that it took every ounce of his willpower to smile sometimes.
He was a pretender, and he was good. The best. But it always surprised him how quickly those around him forgot. Even of those closest to him, none had shown any signs of concern.
Could he be blamed for wanting to sabotage himself sometimes?
He shifted his weight where he was curled against the wall, his arms wrapped hard around himself. His optics were half shuttered while he listened, and fed his addiction with sound.
The tune was simple, and sad. In the dark of the room it was the only clear thing to focus on, honest in its lonliness in a way that he wasn't. The child's voice, tremulous and achingly sad, touched him in places he often pretended that he didn't have, and wished now that he'd had the courage to explore earlier. Perhaps then he wouldn't be so destroyed by them now.
He didn't want to be as lonely as this child sounded, and he knew that he didn't have to be. But bridging that gap... all of his carefully layered lies would go tumbling away, and everyone would see him for what he was. Then he would be left with nothing.
He didn't want to pretend anymore. He wanted this to be his home. But no... Better that he have something left, even if it was just his lies and his music, than to have nothing.
But he would never know what was possible, if he did not try.
Decision made, when the music came to its quiet end, he folded away his lies and his tears into a little box, the sum of everything that was not him, and left the room.
Or that is what Jazz would have liked to have done, had he the courage.