[for romain]

[umbralla]

[It's not hard to find Ghyslain when he's not in class or the dorms - he doesn't go out a lot, and when there aren't classes in the music room, he'll most likely be there. How often do you find a giant grand piano to play, after all? Even his family had a much smaller one, slightly out of tune, which grated on someone with such a natural ear when he came back from lessons and had to practice on it.

Today he's playing something he remembers his older sister listening to; not his kind of music, but the musician was damn good on piano, so the melodies stick out and he picks them out when he hasn't got a song in mind. It's slow at first, then picks up to the actual speed of the song, light and flourishing.

He's clearly in his own world, pale eyes dreamy and head swaying back and forth. In a soft, deep voice, he tries to translate the lyrics he can remember, but they come without scansion and rhyme because it's so off the top of his head.]

Comments

[quantities]

[It's not the first time he passes by one of the art rooms and hits up a conversation with a more creative student; when it comes to music, though, the matter's different. Talking to them means interrupting whatever sound they're producing, more so when they're adding lyrics to the performance. Romain is chatty, but not to the point of being outright disrespectful, so because of that he's ready to just admit this one's a good musician and move on, but - hey. He's singing in French. Definitely worthy of some extra attention and time.

Romain walks in to the room with his hands in his pockets, curious and watchful without wanting to make his presence too obvious, at least not until the piece is done. Good thing the room is always stocked with chairs so he can just take a seat and wait.

Soon as Ghyslain finishes, he claps a little and immediately speaks up.]

Tu parles? Français?

TIME SKIP

[quantities]

[Hey, Ghyslain promised there'd be good food, so he's holding him to that promise. He asks for a big-ass cheeseburger (get out cole) to go along with the second bottle of beer he's going through when dinner time rolls by. It's obvious this conversation is going to go on all night, but he doesn't mind the slightest bit - Ghyslain is a lot of fun, despite the occasional moodiness.]

--whatever you do, never ask for Professor Stuart's advice. He makes you feel small and breaks your brain all at once. While giving you a history lesson. I'm pretty sure that's his real gift.

[quantities]

[Oops, too late, he tipped over. Lying down on his back with his eyes shut and arms sprawled. Comfortable bed. Yes.]

Do you think I'm gonna have a hangover? I've never had one before. I mean, I could just switch out the alcohol, but I don't wanna. Is that weird? People keep telling me I should totally do that. Outdrink anyone I wanted and win a whole lot of bets. I'd be filthy rich.

Then I'd buy even more alcohol.

[Mumbling. He's just mumbling.]

[umbralla]

[It was Ghyslain who first said that he needed time apart, some space to process what had happened and decide how he felt, so there’s no real hurt or stress as the days pass and Romain doesn’t contact him. That silence is respectful, appreciated. He’s got an odd amount of confidence that it’s not permanent, and that he’ll still be met when he reaches out again, because something definitely sparked between them that night. Nothing he dares label yet, but enough to bring them back together.

Still, when a text comes through before he can send one asking if they can meet in the music room after dinner, his heart leaps right into his throat and he feels a jolt of excitement he can’t force down. Don’t expect anything, he tells himself, even as his hands shake while he plays once again to kill the time until Romain gets there. Another piece his sister sent him, by the same artist, but gentler and dreamier.

Unfortunately, someone else happens across him first.

Their long stand-off ends up being broken with everything Ghyslain himself thought about the situation being thrown in his face: he was a child, grasping so hard for things that were never offered, and it could work this time if he just accepted the truth of what they were. He’s an adult now – still a student, but an adult – so it really isn’t so bad. As long as he can be mature enough to handle it and not throw a fit like last time.

His response is a long time coming, while the other party gets visibly more and more irritated.]

Casse-toi. [Softly.]

“Speak English, Ghyslain.” [Terse and condescending.]

Casse-toi! Lache-moi la grappe! [Shouting now, a furious tremor in his voice.

Exactly where will Romain enter this argument, and when will he declare his presence? It is a mystery.]