(no subject)

[faithfulclublet]

Andrew Fioro is entirely a pacifistic person. Not one to go and punch things when enraged or frustrated. Prefers, instead, to tuck himself away and write or play the piano when something hurts him.

And he is hurting now. Hurting still, over the fact that his cousin has chosen to leave the Clubs for the Diamonds. Hurting more, perhaps, over what Argine has just told him-- that they're over for real now, despite the on-again-off-again nature of their relationship having made him doubt. That she's seeing Edgar.

He thinks his betrayal hurts more than hers or even Rachel's did.

Which is why he will be hidden in one of the practice rooms of the Clubs Castle, fingers flying over the keyboard as he loses himself in Appassionata.

Maybe if he plays loud enough, it will drown out the pain of his heart.

Comments

[ofthecubs.livejournal.com]

It had, in a way, been an accident. It had been completely an unproud moment of weakness. His own emotions had been flying left and right since Rachel left them--left him. He couldn't help that Argine had come upon him sobbing against a wall when punching a bag hadn't taken away any of the pain at all. He couldn't help that she'd kissed him as she dried at his tears.

Should have helped it that he kissed her back, clung to her for dear life because he needed to cling to someone.

He knows it's wrong. He also knows he'll crack right in half if he has to give up the way Argine holds him now, the way her fingers comb his hair and make the pain seem slightly farther away. He knows he's putting himself and his own needs above the needs of his best friend fully, in a harsher way than he ever has before.

A piece of him hopes it's not as bad as he's building it up to be in his mind. That maybe Andrew and Argine really weren't as serious as they'd seemed to be when they were on again.

But standing in the door with a book of Plato in his hand, watching his oldest friend bend over the keys, he knows he's shit out of luck.

Worst, knows he's not here to fix it.

[faithfulclublet.livejournal.com]

The music only barely helps. The ending is less of a closing of a piece and more a slamming down on the keys in frustration, elbows quickly replacing fingers on the black and white as he buries his face into his hands. He's been so wrapped up he doesn't even notice his best friend at the door.

Barely even realizes that he's speaking aloud until he hears the echo of his own trembling voice.

"Damn it."

[ofthecubs.livejournal.com]

"--hey."

He's probably not the person Andrew wants to see. But how can he leave the other young man like this? How can he not close the door, set down the book, move closer to reach for the piano rather than his friend's shoulder.

"Easy, Drew."

[faithfulclublet.livejournal.com]

He's both surprised and not, to hear that familiar voice. Still doesn't look up at him, choosing instead to keep his face buried in his hands-- because he knows that if he looks at him now, there's going to be too much hurt and far, far too much anger than he even now wishes to ever inflict upon his oldest friend.

"Now is-- really not the time, Ed."

[ofthecubs.livejournal.com]

"... 's not talking going to make it better?" It's probably going to hurt more, pushing into it like this when things are hard. But letting it fester might make an actual crack. "'s there gonna be a good time?"

Hit the ground hard, right? Tackle things like a Club?

[faithfulclublet.livejournal.com]

"There shouldn't even be anything to talk about," he seethes, hands pushing up into his hair but his gaze still pointedly averted from Edgar's.

He's right, of course-- they do need to talk about it. It's just that it hurts so much to that he hesitates to even properly begin, even though his words are an easy lead-in.