Last Ones

6

Teacher surveyed the classroom and seemed surprised to see a new face among his students.

“And you are?” He asked while looking over at him.

“Alain Wilson Pride,” Alain answered in a calm tone. Their teacher was rather young, in his mid- twenties. He looked pretty attractive. He was tall with a sturdy body, and had a nice face that many women would felt soft in their knees upon seeing.

“en,” the man nodded in acknowledgment and started his lesson. Due to some bizarre coincidence, the lesson was about genetic illnesses. So upon the mention of albinism and listing the signs of it, the whole classroom was staring at Alain.

Their eyes were full of questions and genuine curiosity. Alain just raised an eyebrow at their stares and shrugged his shoulders. One of the girls managed to muster up her courage and asked how he dealt with his skin in sunny days. Honestly, Alain didn't have to suffer from the common problems of albinism as he was different from normal, but he couldn't tell them that, could he?

So, he ended up saying that he made sure not to expose too much skin to the sun as well as making sure to wear glasses or protective lenses as his eyesight was pretty sensitive, which was actually true.

The girl smiled at him embarrassedly and thanked for answering. One of the boys couldn't help but say that he was just like a vampire. Alain just snickered at his comment and paid no heed.

He patiently answered all their questions after having teacher's approval. He was aware that none of the students were trying to insult him, but were merely curious.

The time passed unnoticed and they didn't even hear how the bell rung twice. Indicating that the second lesson was about to begin. Their biology teacher Edward left unnoticed from the students.

Alain frowned deeply when he realized that his second lesson was literature. He got up, took his cello and left. He did hear that venomous woman's curses though, “manwhore” was especially painful one. ~If only she knew how much those words actually hurt~ thought to himself Alain, ~would she still say them?~

Shaking his head he contemplated where to go when he heard a faint sound of a cello. It was very faint but still could not escape his sharp hearing. He followed the sound and opened the door. As he did so the incredible music blasted out.

It was an extremely skillful performance that would make both amateur listener and professional player shiver in the excitement and ecstasy. The euphoria that Alain always felt then performing on his instruments was something beyond words and he experienced it for the first time by simply listening.

He closed his eyes and let his very soul flow with the incredible music of the man in his mid-twenties, he was handsome, so handsome that it was simply beyond words.

His figure was lean but he practically yelled power. He was like a leopard; powerful, yet elegant and graceful. His hair was short, dark brown. His eyes were closed as he was immersed in the music he was playing down to the very core. This man mesmerized Alain, for the first time in his life he was interested in someone. But this interest was not for a chosen one, no, he would feel if they were suited for each other.

He stood there leaning on the wall as he listened to the tornado of feelings that the man was expressing through the bow and the strings of his cello. It was pain, grief, hate.

The feelings were so heavy that it made Alain feel like he was suffocating. The emotions that it stirred in him were disastrous to him, but he could not stop to listen even if it made him feel like drowning in eternal darkness. He was too mesmerized by the pain that the sound carried in.

After 7 minutes, that seemed to be never-ending, the music slowly lost its volume. It was growing more and more silent as if a wounded beast that was locked in a cage was finally giving up to the pain. Submitting and closing its eyes, welcoming the death that decided to seize its head.

This made Alain frown. He didn't like the ending, the idea that it was allowed to give up, to stop the endless suffering that fighting brought along, was deadly to him. He would never give up. No, he was destined to fight for eternity, even if it would leave him riddled with countless scars.

He would still fight till the end, till the moment he would see his opponent submitting to his bitter end. Be the opponent a living person, a nightmare or the inner demons that were eating his heart and soul away. So he opened his case, took out his white cello which was shackled by the haunting ink-black wines like he was shackled in his life. Sat down and started to play from where the man who managed to captivate his very soul in his music was trying to put the end.

The music which was growing more and more silent now started to grow in volume and intensity. Slowly but surely returning to the powerful and rigorous temp. But it was different from the man's. If the man's cello was a beast which was wounded and fighting its death, then Alain’s cello was a bird whose wings were shackled down.

It was yearning for the sky

For the wind blowing by

Singing beautiful lullaby

It looked into the sky

The demons were making the bird

say Eternal goodbye

To its beloved sky

The bird felt that the darkness was always nearby

Luring it

tempting it

Breaking it

But it still yearned for the sky

And until it believed

That the hope was still somewhere nearby

It will never say

Goodbye

Not to its desired sky.

The music was escalating as if saying that the bird would one day return to the rightful sky. And once the moment came, once that shackles broke, the silence shrouded the music hall. Alain looked up at the man who was practically boring holes in his body. Tears were freely falling onto the wooden floor, leaving wet trails on the man's face. He felt his own face, it was wet from the tears that he had unknowingly shed as well.

The man choked out the hoarse thank you. Alain just grunted, “you nearly crushed my mental state. If I didn't do something then I would probably end up flying down from the nearest roof.”