𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐤|| 𝗧𝘆𝗹𝗲𝗿 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗽𝗶𝗻'𝘀 𝗧𝘄𝗶𝗻 𝘅 𝗬/𝗻 𝗟/𝗻

𝟛𝟙.

"Just take a deep breath, and relax..."

Reassuring me backstage as I fixed my hair and makeup, the werewolf had been kind enough to bring me a spare change of clothes before my performance since mine were all soaked and sweaty and muddy and whatnot. 

Fortunately they weren't too big as he brought me the ones from his childhood, but due to their style, it was also obvious that they didn't belong to me. They suited me, yes. But would my mother want to me play a 'majestic' piece of music in front of the whole town in baggy shorts and an oversized hoodie? Most definitely not.

But oh well. I'll just tell her I knocked some flour all over myself back at the cafe, and had to thrift these or something. Not at all convincing, I know, but at least it was giving Billie Eilish. It doesn't matter if she doesn't get it as long as my peers do, which I'm sure they will.

"I didn't know you played." He then remarks as I began warming up a little as the Mayor and the Headmistress proudly showed off the dumb bronze statue of ancient Willy Wonka. "I stopped not long ago." I answer flatly, still not thrilled about playing it.

When I first started the violin, it was because my dad loved it. All my core memories while playing are associated with him. And though we weren't always cheerful and bubbly and faced our share of problems and quarrels in the past, it still hurt.

All the negativity died with him that night, and the positivity became too painful to dwell upon.

"I'm not ready for this..." I put it aside, trying to remain collected, and push the memories aside. My chest tightened up the moment I touched the instrument, and ever since I played it, the lump that formed in my throat only became harder to swallow.

My breathing was uneven and all the memories of that night at the hospital flooded my mind.

"I really cannot do this." I panic a little, crossing my arms, considering for a minute to just run away and not return until nightfall. "I know it's hard. And I know what it reminds you of." The boy states a minute later. "Music to the soul is what words are to the mind." He sighs.

"Look, I know I'm the last person to come to for any form of emotional advices... Or any advices in general- but sometimes music is the only medicine one's heart needs." He rambles a little. "And I know it's not easy, but maybe it's the only way you'll get things outta your chest." He shrugs.

"By facing them in a language only your soul can understand. Music." He muses.

"Clearly you have a tough time expressing yourself with your words. Your relationship with Kinbott says all. And maybe it's because you just haven't been around people who'd care to listen- I don't know..." He says.

"But what I do know is that what you're trying to do really isn't working." He scoffs.

"Don't give me that look; you know what I'm talking about." He sighs. "I'm not stupid, you know. I can see everything I need to know about you in your eyes right now." He says, his ocean blue eyes piercing into mine.

"You can smile and laugh all you want, but I can always see it. I don't expect you to open up about it though, because it's none of my business, and sometimes trying to push someone into doing something only ends with you pushing them away as a whole. And I don't want that." He frowns.

"But I also don't want you to bottle it all up all the time, or bury it deep inside you, because it only results in spontaneous outbursts when make you feel worse than you've ever felt before. Believe me, I've tried." He sighs.

"It is my honor to celebrate our town's history, and Jericho's noble forefather: Joseph Crackstone."

Interrupted by the loud applause of the crowd, we realized we didn't have much time left, and that the choir was done with their performance, and my mom could come back to find me any moment now. "I haven't played in public for so long..." I mumble, glancing at my violin.

"You'll be fine. Just find one person in the crowd whom you feel safe with, and keep your focus on them, and only them. Allow your senses to drown in the melody, and go with the flow." He relaxes me, handing me the violin, and I shoot him a confused look.

For someone who's so stoic and mean, he sure knows a lot about emotions. 

"My mom's passion was playing the piano." He explains, somehow sensing what I was thinking. Oh my god, is he a mind-reader or something? More like eye-reader at this point. I should definitely consider wearing shades around this guy. 

"Now, may the spirit of Joseph Crackstone be memorialized for eternity..."

"You got this." The boy assures, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze, before walking away. "Here goes nothing..." I mutter to myself as the curtains dropped over, and I stood there blankly on the stage. Looking around at the crowd, I saw a few Outcasts cheer when they saw me.

The same cannot be said about the normies, of course, but I'm glad I had Enid and her gang by my side. Stepping in front, in front of the mic, I was unable to move my hands. Petrified by the suddenness of all the incidents that occured today, an overwhelming wave of realization hit me when my mind finally accepted that I had no other option but to play.

Wanting to run away, my legs wouldn't move. Wanting to cry, my face was completely void.

I felt like I was about to throw up and pass out, until I finally locked my eyes with the person I felt safe with... Atlas. He gave me a slight nod as the crowd began to murmur, and my confidence had finally returned.

Drawing in a deep breath, I slowly started playing (whatever your favorite sad song is)...