The Piano Boy : a Danny Edge fanfic

01

    I only knew him as the piano boy.

    During musical season he would always go into a practice room and play the piano. It was as if he let out every one of his feelings through the waltz of his fingertips upon the ivory. The music he played was mesmerizing, my mind was spellbound. I grew accustomed to the short symphonies that rang through the halls; the ones that grabbed the unabiding attention of strangers and made them stop to listen for a second longer. It was bittersweet in a mysterious way.

    I knew the day would come when the music would stop playing and my soul would yearn for the beautiful sounds that once played, but I never imagined that to be a day so soon.
    I remembered it being a cool Wednesday morning on my walk to school, the morning dew stuck to the grass and glistened against the sunlight. The birds failed to sing that morning, which I found rather odd. The poorly aged school came into perspective over the horizon as I walked closer and closer to it. These walks in the early morning usually cleared my busy mind, but all that seemed to linger on was piano boy. I needed to learn who he was.    
    The day dragged on as I frequently kept noticing my neck turn to catch the time, once the bell rang, signaling my departure and escape to the music hall, the music did not play. Was I too early?

I sat hidden on the stairwell and waited. 5 minutes turned into 10 and then 20. Could he be absent today?
    The walk home was rather lonely, and had a disturbing eery feel to it. My mind was mute, desperate for any sound. I neglected to bring my headphones along with me, I always find a way to lose them somewhere in my room

the large house came into view sooner than expected. When a mind does not find a place to wander, you seem to walk faster.

This house i found to be my favorite place, it had a long driveway, the kind boy scouts found too long to walk and try and sell us popcorn. The kind people mistook for mistake in a roadworkers plan
    It lay on the outskirt of town, surrounded by purly nothing but empty pieces of land, potential of so much more.
    In the summer i could run through the fields and lay on top of the hill, underneath what i liked to call 'the sitting tree' it had a heart carved into it with initials undecipherable. though it seems so simple, it had such a deeper meaning to me
        maybe we force things upon others to make them capable of realization
    On the nights when the sky painted pictures van gogh only dreamed of, i could sit under that tree and look at that picture above me and find serenity inside myself. I've found that being alone with something so beautiful opens your mind to so much more.

Upon opening the large oak door, my mother sat at the kitchen table, with nothing but a coffee mug and glasses that rest on her forehead. Her face rest in what seemed to be a look of confusion and worry

    "Did you hear about the boy who got hit by a car today?"
What

I dropped my bag on the floor that landed with a large thud. I turned my back then bolted for the door.
     I had a feeling. A feeling that was equivalent to a storm taking out a helpless crew of seamen. They knew it was the end, but not so soon. There was no logical way to confirm it was piano boy but in my heart I felt something, something full of sorrow and uneasiness.

  I started running. There was no destination I had in mind, just the need to run. My lungs burned with the gasps of air I sharply inhaled in and out.  I ran all the way to the school, into the doors of the music hall, desperate to hear any sounds of the piano playing, anyway to verify he was not the boy who faced such tragedy. 
    The hallway remained silent.
I let out a long cry and fell to the cracked marble floor. The kind of cry that starts out loud, with all the feelings you've ever felt impacted into one long sound that resembles such feelings. The cry that then lowers into pure nothingness and the heavy inhales. Its funny how one sound with different pitched sounds displays a mood.
    I didn't know what to do with myself, laying on that cold floor like a thrown rag doll by a spoiled child. I never knew the boy, just the songs he played. I sucked in a sharp breath, hyperventilation sunk in along with the warm salty tears spilling from my eyes. I felt like I was drowning in my own bodily functions.
    I rested my head on the cold floor, attempting to calm my pathetic self down
The sounds of the beautiful piano played through my mind, I would never hear them again, all I had left was memories.
     the music in my head suddenly got louder and louder, like it wasn't even in my head anymore, because it wasn't
I slowly raised my head in disbelief. I ran my hands through my ravished hair and got up off the floor, walking slowly toward the sounds that echoed.
    There sat a small curly haired boy in the far corner of the music hall, not even playing the piano, but living it
    I walked slowly toward the boy who had unknowingly caused me so much pain. I was a mess, in no condition to talk to him.
    The music came to abrupt halt, he obviously sensed my presence
"Olivia?" he questioned picking up his head
"You came."