[fic] Fading Stars and Piano Keys (3/6)

[kiyala.livejournal.com]

Three. Daryan’s place isn’t exactly small, but it’s nothing compared to his old house. Klavier looks around in wonder at the simple black couch in front of the large television, expensive but nowhere near as flashy as Daryan’s tastes had once been. Daryan clearly hasn’t lost his ability to know what Klavier’s thinking because his lips twist into a rueful smile. “Spend enough time surrounded by the same concrete walls and you start to realise that maybe you don’t need all this useless shit cluttering up the place.” Klavier thinks that this is not something Kristoph would agree with—with each passing year he only decorates his cell even more, to the point where it almost looks like a proper living space. He shakes his head to dispel the thought and catches Daryan watching him carefully. He waits for Daryan to comment—because he knows Klavier is thinking about his brother, he must—but Daryan simply turns away, hands in his pockets, and whistles. Klavier’s about to ask, but he sees a black figure dart out of a room and jump onto the couch. It’s a kitten, its fur completely black except for a white patch on its forehead. “Hey baby,” Daryan murmurs in a low voice that makes Klavier’s traitor mind wander to memories he’d been determinedly avoiding. “…You have a cat,” Klavier says blankly, wincing at how awkward he sounds. Thankfully, Daryan doesn’t insult either of their intelligence by giving him a stupid answer. “Her name’s Sophie,” Daryan says, not seeming to notice. He smiles when she butts against the hand he reaches out to her. “Picked her up from the animal shelter just last week.” “Well, aren’t you the good Samaritan.” Klavier means for his tone to be light-hearted, but what comes out is bitter and sarcastic. Daryan stiffens, turning around with a scowl. “I know you got a problem with me, man, but if you’re gonna stand there and give me attitude when I’m trying, then you can turn around right now.” Klavier sighs tiredly. “This isn’t easy, Daryan.” “I know.” Daryan walks into the kitchen, getting out the whiskey and pouring them both glasses. “I know you hate me.” “I don’t—” Klavier stops, frowning as he tries to sort his thoughts out. “It’s not—I don’t hate you all the time.” “Oh, well, if that’s the case.” It’s Daryan’s turn to sound bitter, handing a glass to Klavier. This is just the way they always were, Klavier thinks grimly. Quick to escalate into arguments, getting snappier at each other until one of them goes too far. They’d always made up in the end, of course, but looking at where they are now, Klavier can tell that they need to break this cycle. They need to figure out how to make this work, because as much as Klavier knows that he shouldn’t, he desperately wants for things to be fixed between them. “Look at us. We’re a mess.” Klavier doesn’t even bother pretending there is no us—there is no other way he can think of himself and Daryan, and if Klavier stops lying to himself for long enough, he knows that this is never going to change. “Well, then fix it,” Daryan mutters, not meeting Klavier’s eyes. “You’re the one who likes everything all neat and ordered, right?” “Of course. Leave it all to me,” Klavier snaps. “Because none of this matters to you at all, does it Daryan? That’s exactly why I’m here after you invited me, trying to hear you out because you can’t leave well enough alone.” Daryan lets out a bark of laughter. It’s harsh against Klavier’s ears and his expression is angry and even worse. “I can’t leave this alone, man? Before you say shit like that, you better remember that I ain’t the one who was just showing up to some shit hole bar every Friday for the past three weeks—” “Why are you so angry?” Klavier interrupts. “What gives you any right? One moment you reach out, the next you’re acting like I’m the one who turned around and—” “Are you gonna hold that over my head for the rest of my fucking life?” Daryan’s voice wavers just a little, and he glares at Klavier, as if it’s his fault. Klavier narrows his eyes and says in a frighteningly even voice, “You killed a man, Daryan.” “They never proved that.” The denial is like a knee-jerk response, now, but it doesn’t stop his heart from racing when he has to say it to Klavier’s face. “No. They didn’t. I know Alexander’s father pulled some strings—” “Don’t bring Xander into this, man.” “I have to, Daryan.” Klavier sighs, his shoulders slumping. “I have to, because I have to believe that you did it for him—that you wanted to save his life so badly that you killed a man to do it. And I don’t care if you were charged for murder or not, we both know there’s blood on your hands. How am I ever going to ignore that?” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Daryan growls under his breath. “Then tell me why the fuck you’re here.” Klavier knows Daryan well enough that he can identify every single emotion in his voice: the pain, the anger, the desperation, the guilt. He refuses to be swayed by it and shakes his head. “Maybe I should leave.” “You’re not fucking going anywhere until we sort this out.” Sophie, concerned by the angry exchange, curls in on herself and lets out an inquisitive mewl. Daryan’s expression immediately eases and he reaches out, rubbing under the kitten’s chin. “I’m sorry, baby.” Klavier looks away. “You know, I never thought you’d be the type for pets.” “Always wanted a cat,” Daryan shrugs. “Never had the time when we were always busy with band stuff, but now…” “What have you been doing with yourself lately?” Klavier’s wondered this constantly and knows that he can easily find out on his own, but he wants to hear it from Daryan. “Office work,” Daryan doesn’t lift his gaze from Sophie, who is purring contentedly now. “Just the standard shit. Just something to do so I don’t end up bored outta my skull. At least my cubicle’s a bit more interesting than a cell.” “That doesn’t sound like you at all,” Klavier frowns. “Well, what am I gonna do? I doubt the police force wants me back—hell, I don’t think I even want to go back, considering all the loopholes everywhere. And as for music…” He doesn’t need to say any more, because Klavier already knows. Of course Klavier knows; Daryan isn’t the only one who misses the band, who misses the thrill of creating and collaborating. “There must be more,” Klavier says softly. Daryan snorts and turns away, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, man. I lost everything.” Klavier stiffens visibly and Daryan swears under his breath. “Fuck, man, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t thinking, okay? I wasn’t thinking.” “Every single time you forget to think, I’m the one who ends up being hurt,” Klavier mutters. “Even after all this time…” “What do you want me to say, man? I fucked up, and I’m sure as hell not gonna forget that any time soon.” The thing is, Klavier knows exactly what he wants to hear from Daryan; he’s been waiting to hear it since Daryan was first charged. All it takes is one simple I’m sorry—for Daryan to get over his pride for long enough to apologise for what he knows he’s done to Klavier—doing to Klavier every second they’re together now. “If you don’t know what to say, then I’ve clearly been giving you far too much credit,” Klavier says, shaking his head. “If you still don’t know me well enough to know what I want to hear, then I can tell I’m wasting my time here.” “What, so you’re just leaving?” Daryan asks incredulously. “Just like that?” “Just like that,” Klavier repeats with a sigh. “Goodbye, Daryan. It’s taken me this long to finally say it to you—” “I’m sorry,” Daryan says, cutting him off and folding his arms across his chest. His expression is angry, but Klavier can read the defensiveness in the way he holds himself, bracing for rejection. “That’s what you wanted to hear, ain’t it? I know I fucked up a lot of things and both our lives are at the top of that list. Yeah, I wasn’t thinking. I just—wanted to get that cocoon to Xander, alright? It was a fucking stupid law that was just letting him die and I was going to do what I had to. I didn’t wanna kill LeTouse and if you think I’m ever gonna forget that look in his eyes… I would’ve done the same if it was you instead of Xander—fuck, you don’t even know how far I’d go if it was you—” “Daryan.” “Just forgive me, alright, Klavier? Just—don’t hate me. I don’t know what I’d do if you did.” “I can’t just forgive you now,” Klavier says, and it’s by sheer force of will that he keeps his voice from shaking. Before Daryan can protest, he continues, “but I want to—I can’t even tell you how badly, Daryan. I’ll tell you now that it’s going to take time, but someday I know I will. I know I can promise you that.” Daryan nods, knowing that even if it’s not what he wants to hear, it’s enough for now. “Thanks, man. I know I don’t exactly deserve it.” “Then you’d better convince me that you actually do,” Klavier says simply. “Right.” Daryan runs a hand through his hair. “Well, you know where to find me.” “Yes I do.” The door clicks shut behind Klavier when he leaves, but he doesn’t move from Daryan’s doorstep for a long moment, just leaning against the door, shoulders sagging, wishing that he could fix everything by sheer force of will. He allows himself to imagine that perhaps Daryan is doing the same. • Daryan goes to visit Xander the next day. The Lazarus manor doesn’t seem as big and intimidating this time around, but Daryan supposes that this time around, he’s been in bigger places than a two-by-four. Xander’s sprawled in a lounge chair around the back of the house in the sun with two drinks on the table beside him, clearly expecting him. “So I hear you talked to Klavier last night,” he says by way of greeting. Daryan sits down in the empty chair beside him. “Fine then, just steal all my news.” “You’re not gonna ask me how I know?” Xander asks, raising an eyebrow. “Klavier told you,” Daryan guesses. He grabs the unopened can of soft drink off the table and takes a long sip. “Damn.” Xander doesn’t sound the least bit put out—in fact, he sounds impressed. “Has anyone ever told you that you two know each other way too well?” “Used to hear it all the time,” Daryan replies with a grim smile. “Now? I’m not so sure.” “Okay, so maybe you’ve both changed,” Xander says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He can’t deny it when the proof’s right there at the briefest glance, but still… “I still think there’s something there, right at the core, that’s still the same. I mean, you can still read each other like open books, so obviously there’s still something about you that still somehow fits together.” Daryan knows that it’s true because they had, the previous night. He just sighs and says, “I dunno, man,” because it’s much easier than saying that he desperately hopes Klavier hasn’t changed in the one way that matters to him most, that whatever they had before this entire mess still has a chance of surviving. Xander, while not knowing Daryan as well as Klavier does, still knows when it’s a good time to keep his friend distracted. “Right,” he announces, sitting up and turning to Daryan. “Today’s agenda: we’re gonna get some lunch and then we’re going out to get you a nicer piano than that beaten up thing sitting in your house. As a thank you I’m still alive present, so don’t make that face at me. I’m sitting you down and making you write some new songs because I can tell you’re itching for it. Then we’re grabbing some dinner and going clubbing. Got it?” Daryan raises an eyebrow. “What did Klavier say to you?” “Nothing. He just said to take care of you while he sorts himself out. I’m just doing that okay? Relax. Look, I owe it to you so just shut the fuck up and go with it.” Daryan grins despite himself. He knows that Xander’s continual praise for saving his life are going to his head, but it doesn’t stop his ego from swelling a little every time. Despite the five years in prison, despite the permanent mark against his name and whatever Klavier may think of him, he’s saved one of his best friends from what was thought to be certain death. No matter what else, he decides that this makes him kind of awesome. “Alright,” he finally says, nodding. “But you’re buying the drinks.” “Of course,” Xander grins. They end up going to Daryan’s favourite restaurant for lunch, an Italian joint with the best wood-fired pizza in existence. The food is good enough that Daryan forgets, if only for a little while, to brood over Klavier. The music store they go to keeps Daryan happily distracted too. He admires the guitars on display, sitting down with one and strumming. It’s been far too long since he’s sit down with Geeter and just appreciated the music instead of thinking about what he’s lost, and Xander watches him with a bemused look. “Thinking of getting back into playing the guitar?” For a moment, the relaxed look in Daryan’s eyes disappears. “Definitely not in public. Don’t need a new guitar anyway—Geeter’s doing fine.” “Pianos then,” Xander says quickly, turning to lead the way to the piano display. “Look, man,” Daryan says, placing a hand on Xander’s shoulder. “Ain’t like I’ll just stop thinking about Klavier at the drop of a hat, alright? You’re doing everything you can to keep me nice and distracted and I appreciate that. If I could just make my brain shut up, I would, but I can’t. Not after I saw him last night and all I can do is replay the same goddamn conversation in my head over and over.” Xander nods reluctantly. “For what it’s worth, I reckon Klavier will come around soon enough. I only spoke to him over the phone, but it’s the first time I’ve heard from him in a few years. I think the fact that he called me just to talk about you says enough.” “We’ll see,” Daryan shrugs. “So, pianos then.” They spend a good hour or two sitting at all the different pianos, playing together. Xander had been one of the founding members of the Gavinners, stepping down from being keyboardist when he started getting sick too frequently. He hadn’t been diagnosed with Incuritis until a good two years later, the first time Klavier was in Borginia. It’s clear that Xander hasn’t let his skills diminish, though. He leads and Daryan follows, harmonising like it comes naturally. Daryan loses himself in this in a way he doesn’t at the old piano in the small bar; it isn’t the thrill of performing that gets him going, it’s the fact that he’s collaborating with someone else, building on each other’s ideas, the way he did in the band. They change pianos between pieces and Daryan finds one that feels right, the same way Geeter had the first time he’d picked it up. “This one, man,” Daryan says and this time, he’s leading, playing one of the several things he’d made up in prison. Xander joins in easily and it’s the best one yet. There are a few murmurs of appreciation and Daryan looks over his shoulder, realising they’ve got a tiny audience of the other customers in the store. Xander catches his eye, grinning, and they both play twice as enthusiastically this time, showing off and soaking up the attention of their audience. Daryan builds up into a crescendo before the end and Xander lets out a whoop. “Fuck, man, did you write that one? It sounds awesome. Imagine it with guitars.” “Hell yeah,” Daryan grins. “Wrote it for Geeter to begin with, but it works on piano.” “Everything works on piano,” Xander declares, getting up and walking over to the piano Daryan’s sitting at. “So this one, huh?” “Look, you don’t have to—” “I’m alive, Daryan, and if I hadn’t gotten that cure, I would’ve been dead four and a half years ago. It’s all because of you, alright? So if you tell me what I can’t do with my money one more time, I swear I’ll punch you out.” Daryan huffs out a quiet laugh. “Try it, man. I bet I could take you down.” “Shut up,” Xander motions for the staff and points at the piano. “This one. If this idiot here tries to pay, cut his fucking card up.” “Screw you, Xander.” “You’re welcome, Daryan.” “Feh,” Daryan turns back to the piano and allows himself to grin, running his fingers across the keys. “You rock.” They move Daryan’s old, worn piano into the storage container that he still hasn’t moved everything out of, deciding it can live there until he knows what to do with it. The new piano takes its place and Sophie investigates, sniffing at it and climbing over it until she apparently gives her approval, curling up on top of it. Daryan feels more alive than he has in a long time, and it gives him the courage to take Geeter out of the case, letting Xander sit at the piano so they can rework the piece they’d played before. They’re having so much fun that Daryan barely wants to go out clubbing later, but it’s been a very long time since he’s been, so they go anyway. The public doesn’t recognise Daryan Crescend very much; there are newer, younger, more popular rock stars now and even if they do remember him, they don’t recognise him without the usual hair and costume. They settle at the bar for a few rounds of drinks before Daryan leads the way onto the dance floor. Back when Daryan and Klavier had gone out, at the height of their musical careers, the girls would flock to them the moment they stepped onto the dance floor. Daryan doesn’t expect it to happen now, but they get the attention of a few girls anyway. Not that Daryan is particularly surprised; he knows that he and Xander and both good-looking. What does surprise him, though, is how desperately he misses Klavier with every girl that comes his way. They’re pretty, they’re friendly and they want him, but it’s not enough. He tries to ignore it and succeeds, right up to the point where a blonde with bright blue eyes and a beautiful smile introduces herself as Claire, and Daryan’s apologising, backing away, leaving the dance floor, leaving the club, with Xander calling after him in confusion. “I can’t fucking do this, man,” he admits, once he’s stopped, sitting on the curb at the end of the street, and Xander’s caught up. “I can’t stop thinking about Klavier, even with the ladies all over me. It’s like some kind of disease.” Xander pats him on the back. “Come on, it can’t be all that bad…” “I’m in love with him, Xander,” Daryan says, like it’s some terrible crime. “As if I even have any right to want him back this badly.” “This… surprises you?” Xander raises an eyebrow. “I thought it was pretty obvious, actually.” Daryan laughs bitterly. “No. It ain’t a surprise, but it fucking hurts to know just how badly I need him back.” “Well, then get him back,” Xander declares. “Easier said than done, I know, but if you know what you want, then do everything you can to get it.” Daryan snorts. “Fuck that shit. I’ve got nothing to prove. I know what I’ve done, I know it’s shit, but in the end, you’re still alive. So fuck Klavier if that ain’t enough for him.” Xander sighs heavily, but he doesn’t say anything. Daryan’s thankful, because he doesn’t know what to say. He knows that neither of them believe his words, but if Xander’s going to let him hold onto whatever pretence he can, Daryan isn’t one to complain. “Look, let’s just go to my place,” Daryan says with a shrug. “My only plans for the rest of the night involve getting too drunk to think straight. I’ll deal with this shit later.” “If you’re sure,” Xander says with a wan smile, and as they wait for a cab, Daryan thinks that if he doesn’t have Klavier, at least he’s got a good friend like this. • Four.