Theory Of The Constant Melody

CHAPTER 4

THE FOLLOWING DAYS were as ordinary as before.

Heretofore, without Acherous was prosaically dull. He becomes my buddy and knows my whereabouts, also do I.

“Did I tell you that Greg texted me this morning, Cyan?” Acherous mentioned while dashing off his essay in Structural Analysis Static.

We were sitting across each other inside the cafeteria, getting ourselves busy by doing certain things.

Reading the textbook I borrowed in the library a while ago, I darted a confused look at him and leisurely flipped a page of the book.

“No, why? Did he send you a message?” I asked.

“Yup.” Sticking down to a halt, he eyed me and dug into his backpack to grab his phone.

“Bro, for aught I care, do you need some help to do your essay? Besides, I’m done with mine,” I offered, resting my elbows on the table while interlacing my fingers of both hands against my chin.

He gave me a smothered laugh while pressing something on his phone. “Maybe, some other time, bro. Likewise, rats would’ve loved to seek for help after doing awful,” he wisecracked.

The corner of my mouth turned up. “Ridiculous,” I uttered, simultaneously to standing up, then moved my chair to the opposite side.

He chuckled and handed his phone to me. “Here, Cyan.”

I took it and had a peek at it.

“Well, we have our practice this afternoon,” Acherous recited before me.

“For… outreach program,” I continued after reading the message and painted a satisfying smile briefly—which is clearer than blue my mom told me a long ago that smiling is contagious that even a newborn baby can recognize by heart and makes everything seem so alive.

“Nice. I’d love to go to other communities aside from those we’ve already been at.” I gave back his thing to him and brushed my hair with my fingers.

Three years ago when I made an application for the available scholarship slots. Good thing, the administrative staff had given me a chance to apply in the band. Luckily, I was chosen to be the lead vocalist after Johnson who happened to be the lead just graduated in that academic year. Furthermore, the school has got my other fees covered.

“Same with you,” Acherous simply answered.

Meanwhile, he carried on composing his essay; whereas casting my eyes over him is the only thing I can fart about—or that taking of a second to glimpse him is not even a waste of time.

I took a gulp of my water while traveling my sight around so as to say the tables that sat occupied have never been this mess. There are few students who considered this as their haven, even this area has a lovely landscape—a vibrant scene—to make this as casual bonds.

As much as possible, I am saving money for purpose and never trifling away any of it on unimportant or silly things. Sometimes, I packed a sandwich at home for the both of us. That being the case, otherwise, Acherous lets me order and paid of my meal. Thrifty to say but I’m such the way people look on me as.

In a jiff, someone walked straight closely to our table and without anything else to say, he slammed the table grudgingly.

“Slutbags! Who the hell are you?” Acherous exclaimed in irritating response and glared at the tall, blonde man—as soon as I had a gander at him—who just came having this indignant display of facial expression.

“Who is Cyan Clarkson?” this medium-built, tan man fumed, hands still on top of the table; fingers stretched, slowly clenching.  

“Why’d you like to know, dude?” I questioned and laid hold of my pen with my right hand while fiddling it. Never in my entire life I feel frightened or just something that people might have looked me down for this reason—scaring me out of hell.

“Stupid, men! Nice answering my question with a question. Kiss my ass!” he ranted mockingly and turned his eyes to Acherous. “You are Cyan Clarkson, aren’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at Acherous and smirked.

“I am Cyan Clarkson,” I acknowledged myself, hence their eyes blazed with me; this man’s hands finally formed into fists.

He rushed to draw himself closer to me and grabbed me by the collar. “f**k you, men! I am Forest, boyfriend of Iris. If ever caught you by act getting any gifts from my girlfriend, I would break your bloody s**t face,” he shouted right in front of my face.

I roamed my eyes around only to discover that we arrested some students’ attention here in the cafeteria. They seemed to watch what is about to happen next.

“Take your hands off him or else I am going to smash up your face, son of a b***h!” Acherous emphasized with wrath, surely boiling his system, while losing his temper in annoyance.

I gave them a peep look and pondered a memory with Iris who gave me a silver necklace with a small teal loop pendant.

Forest took a glimpse of Acherous and mocked playfully. “Don’t chime in, men! You’re not allowed to meddle us,” he argued.

Straightaway, Acherous blew a punch on this man’s right cheek. Eventually, Forest held out his hand and momentarily lost his balance then fell on the ground after a moment of second.

Every part of me went on pause and my brain stuttered for instant. I was shocked in terror and instantly acted to interfere with Acherous. I moved my hands forward, causing the lines appeared between his eyebrows.

“Bro, what have you done? You shouldn’t have punched him!” I reprimanded and let out a displeasing sigh.

With my peripheral field, I saw Forest sit up. Then, I returned to him and spoke, “Dude, I apologize for any damage—”

Acherous snapped, “What were you saying, Cyan?”

Instead of getting distracted by him, my eyes just fixed on Forest’s deep cold eyes.

“Dude, I don’t intend to ruin—or likely to close to that—your relationship with Iris. If it occurs that you two had a quarrel, I’m sorry. Rest assured that I will never take any of her gifts,” I assured in a certain tone to end this conflict.

I heard Acherous mutter something that I couldn’t even hear due to its lowness.

Forest stood up and extended his index finger to point at Acherous after me. He followed it by murmuring so much curses.

“We’re not done yet, you c***s!” he emphasized, telling us while eyes squinting, teeth gnashing, and veins popping out of his neck. “I’d wish to get even with you,” he added, glaring at my best friend while wiping the right corner of his lips that a bit bled with his thumb because of the unexpected hard jab.

I looked at Acherous, still alarming myself from any possible attacks.

“You’re too arrogant to believe it could happen to me, f*****g asshole! C’mon, don’t conceal yourself with your unmannered words,” he called out, sounded challenging Forest to a fight. He smirked, hands in both pockets.

“Acherous…” I uttered seriously and my eyebrows creased to signal him to halt.

After a couple of seconds, I returned my gaze to Forest and lowered my hands. “On his behalf, I apologize. Dude, I hope it wouldn’t cause any trouble again,” I requested. 

SIGHING HEAVILY HAS BEEN ACHEROUS’ ACTION since we got to the music hall.

“What the hell, Acherous Miller! What do you think are you doing down there? You’re making the same mistakes… repeatedly,” Sheila, our 34-year old band adviser, scolded Acherous, hands on hips. Her voice echoed in the hall; I’ve nearly imagined she could paint on the wall with black that couldn’t be any darker—that’s how her mouth set in a hard line. Her aura like the room—so uncomfortably wide and musky.

The hall was as simple as the music room itself. However, I don’t prefer so much spacious area like this. Apart from that, it’s only used when celebrating important events such as ceremonies, contests, concerts, and the like. Having this capacious place can occupy a fraction of thousand seats.

We were actually running through the introductory song for the outreach program about thirty minutes ago on the stage. In contrast, he’s been plucking the wrong strings with no timing, hence our ban adviser already gets irritated about it.

Subsequently, my bandmates fell silent. Our band consists of a drummer, keyboardist, bassist, three guitarists; one lead and two rhythm, and two vocalists. We are all seniors, but taking different fields.

Shortly after that, I stepped forward and glanced at my best friend only to find out that he’s staring into space. When he threw a glance at me, I nodded and mouthed, “You leave everything up to me.” Then, I continued padding down the stairs toward Sheila who stood by the swell step.

Her heels created a less sharp thud when she walked up. 

As we reached halfway, she massaged her temples and took a quick look at me before crossing her arms against her chest.

“Sheila, Acherous feels unwell,” I excused on the part of Acherous, gesticulating my hand to express that he needed a nap.

I actually don’t have a clue what called forth him to act quietly, but inaccurately. Something indeed bothered him that much which I can’t ponder vividly.

Therewith, her face softened and she covered her mouth with her hands. “I h—hadn’t bargained for that. He didn’t tell me,” she reasoned and titled her head sideward shortly before heaving a sigh. “Could you escort him to the clinic?” she added to request.

I nodded and beamed a little. “Sure. I’ve got his back. Thanks,” I replied, making no little time or ado to approach Acherous.

As soon as I came nearer to him, I paid heed to how he troubled to meet my eyes.

“Ache…” I whispered and clasped my wrists behind my back.

He just hissed and looked away.

“Bro…” I called him once more, a bit louder this time.

“What?” he asked tautly, eyebrows arched in disgust. He took off the guitar in his arms and rested it down upright against the wall. Slumping his shoulders, he stormed out of the hall past us without anything to say aside from it.

“What’s his problem, Cyan?” Greg asked, holding the rubber shaft of the stick used for drumming which was irrefutably cool from his viewpoint.

“Not having the foggiest idea, Greg,” I answered.

“Problem, maybe?” Annalyn, my co-vocalist, assumed.

“For aught I know, Anna. I have to nose it out. Excuse me,” I monotonously spoke and walked out of the hall.

Ranging my sight around the hallway, I ran my hands through my hair and bit my bottom lip.

I went out of the building and wandered my eyes around the open field. Then there, I saw Acherous sitting on the bench, relaxing the palms in his face; resting his elbows against the knees.

I traipsed to him and cleared my throat. I sat next to him and touched him on the back.

“Acherous…” I mumbled.

“I hate your kindness!” he said under his breath without moving any parts of his body—or even at least the tip of his finger.

“Bro, what were you say—“ I stumbled over words, having the big lump in my throat.

Now, the silence lingers in the air.

I feel the soft panic flooding in that seemed the heat became far less bearable.

“I am fighting back my emotion, Cyan Clarkson! And I really damn myself for hating your kindness,” he elaborated gravelly for an inadequate factor.

He hates my kindness, does he?

“Bro, I don’t understand,” I responded, having this confused tone.

He glanced sideways which I noticed at once. He let out an exasperating sigh before taking off his hands and eyed me intently.

“Did you know how much I f*****g wanted to devastatingly tear up that stupid’s face? f**k it, bro!” he thundered and showed off his white, robust knuckles with both hands. It’s almost two weeks when he had the scratch one.

“Bro, is that all that made you upset?” I questioned tightly.

“f*****g no!” he answered abruptly. “I’m jealous,” he confessed.

My heart suddenly pounded so fast and there was something in my stomach that did back flip. “W—what?” I stammered. Jealous.

“You seemed to protect him over me, Cyan,” he rasped.

My lips parted together and my head bended down. I frowned and my eyes shut and downturned. Then, my mouth slightly curved downward. I wouldn’t have thought anything more than I expect.

“If only you didn’t stop me, he could be f*****g rushed into the hospital,” he bellowed.

My mind was sent reeling.

I composed myself to get my sanity back, then shook my head in disapproval. I opened my eyes and gazed at him. Without a second or two, I thwacked him in the head and he winced.

“What?” he grimaced in complain and rubbed the part of his head where I hit.

“Stupid. Acherous, to lecture you, fighting physically never helps solve any issue. Sit back. When they attack you, relax. When they hurt you, veg out. In my personal way, I don’t fight over the small things like this. Not only that, measuring up to others is to lower your petulance,” I reprimanded.

He moved his hands forward, mimicking to be arguing. “See? You’re so kind and understanding, bro. And I really damn myself—”

I sneered, “Bro, do not mention it.” I laughed shortly and positioned my arm on his shoulder.

“In life, you’d better opt not to feed the troublemakers neither because you’re loser, nor afraid of them; otherwise you’ll get hurt,” I continued.

Somehow, his face gladdened.

“You’re quite good at talking me around, bro. But still, I am mad.”

I hissed.

“Okay. Fine. You won again. You intoxicated my mind with your f*****g kindness.”

I chuckled and tousled his hair more violently than before. “Because it never dies.”

“You really are delirious, bro.” He laughed and leaned backward. “But honestly, you never surrendered just to ease me off. That’s why I love you.”

“I love you, please say you love me too,” he sang the ‘I Love You’ by Celine Dion after a minute.

There’s no doubt he has a lovely voice.

Subsequently, I burst into laughter to hide and carefully guard the sudden happiness and pain sprouted in my heart. I’m glad that he said the phrase which I really fall in love with every time—always. And there’s this pain, musing to consider that the wonderful phrase is common, and marks down as the constant melody.

“These three words, they could change our lives forever,” I sang the following lyric.

“And I promise you that we will always be together ‘til the end of time,” we sang together and laughed in unison.

“Friendship stays forever,” we recited our signature remark.