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A long time ago I wrote this fic and I didn't know if I liked it very much but it's just been sitting in my computer gathering dust. nijibug suggested I post it here, so that's what I'm doing.

Title: The Guitar's Serenade (because I'm soo creative guys)
Summary: An idea I had on how Klavier and Daryan might have met.
Rating: G I suppose... It's gen-fic, pretty mild.

Fingertips drumming against the grimy, worn-out counter in a mindless, pieced-together melody, Klavier let out a sigh and ordered his drink. This particular club was rather dingy and smelled of stale beer and cigarettes, but that didn’t really matter to him at the moment. The evening had barely started and already he’d been rejected by yet another record company. Everyone kept telling him he had such great talent, but that he was too young to make a name for himself, by himself. His brother was the only one who really believed in him. But then again, his brother was enormously successful already, running his own law offices and boasting an admirable reputation. He hadn’t even complained when Klavier told him that he wanted to become a prosecutor- he’d just laughed and informed him that he wouldn’t hold back if they ever faced one another in court. Klavier would show him, though. He had talent.

Thoughts of the courtroom reminded Klavier of the bar exam looming in the not-so-distant future, and he was grateful for the glass that slid its way across the counter. Yeah, it was alcoholic and that made it illegal for him, but this was one place that would let it slide and besides… most of his life spent living in Germany left him with a rather high tolerance for alcohol. Taking a long drink, he relaxed a little and let the white noise of the sparse crowd wash over him.

The sharp thrum of an electric guitar suddenly pulsed through the air, causing a jolt to run up Klavier’s spine. A scattered burst of applause sounded from the other end of the club, and he swiveled around on his stool to see a small stage surrounded by lights, with three young men grouped loosely together upon it. One sat at a set of drums, almost hidden by the shadows cast by the poorly-set lighting; another stood at the very end of the stage, waving around a microphone, clearly thrilled to be the center of attention. The third stood just a little off-center, smirking: but his gaze wasn’t directed at the audience. He was looking down at his guitar, running quick hands up and down the strings and fine-tuning it with the softest tweaking of chords.

“Are you read-ay!” the vocalist shouted, and immediately the drums and guitar kicked off an erratic beat. Barely a few seconds later, he began to sing some sort of back-street metal; Klavier sighed and set down his drink. This was exactly why he hadn’t formed a band yet. The tempo set by the drums, not to mention the singing itself- it really wasn’t very good. Klavier knew he knew how to write good songs: the trouble was finding people to play them right.

The mediocre music continued for several minutes before the singing gave way to an instrumental, probably written in for the sole purpose of letting the boy catch his breath. The guitarist stepped into the light and finally directed his cocky grin out at the crowd before skimming his fingers up the length of his guitar and plunging into a riff that sucked the air out of Klavier’s lungs as surely as if he’d been punched. He was clearly deviating from the main melody, but that didn’t really matter; he played his instrument with a passion and skill that Klavier had never heard from anyone else.

Who was this boy? He had shoulder-length black hair that was spiked oddly in the front, strands falling across his face, and he wore dark clothing like the rest of the makeshift band. He was tall and lean and looked to be about Klavier’s age… nothing that would have usually caught Klavier’s attention, were it not for the way he played that instrument.

The guitarist retreated to massive applause, and the singer took the stage once more, bringing the fevered pitch of the music back down to its previous second-rate level. Finishing the rest of his drink, Klavier decided not to order another, his veins still thrumming with the aftermath of electric guitar.

. . .

It was a whole hour later before they actually came face-to-face. Klavier had lingered at the club, having nothing better to do, and his steady people-watching finally paid off when he caught sight of the dark-haired musician moving his way. Sitting up a little straighter, he turned and watched out of the corner of his eye as the teenager sat down at a barstool two seats away and ordered something. He looked a lot more mature close up, which surprised Klavier. He didn’t realize he was staring until the strange boy turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “You want something?”

“Oh… Entshuldigung,” Klavier apologized quickly, before flashing his signature smile. “I recognized you from the performance earlier- I’m Klavier.” He held out a hand, which the other looked at skeptically before shaking it and letting go as quickly as possible.

“Name’s Daryan,” he said brusquely, but there was an intrigued tone in his voice. “You German or something?”

Klavier smiled. “You could say that. I lived there for some time and only recently moved here with my brother.”

“Huh. I guess you speak German pretty well-”

“Fluently.”

Daryan smirked. “Show-off.”

Klavier chuckled and adjusted his collar, changing the subject. “I wanted to say I really enjoyed your music, earlier.”

Daryan gestured to the stage. “You think that was cool? The show you saw was just for kicks. Kid stuff.” He laughed, a gratingly arrogant sound.

“You look rather young to be badmouthing ‘kid stuff’,” Klavier quipped, watching Daryan’s mouth quirk into a frown.

“Don’t go sayin’ stuff you don’t know anything about,” he snapped. “Like I said, this is just for fun. My real job is way more important than that.”

“And what’s that?” Klavier asked, because Daryan wanted him to.

Sufficiently mollified, the guitarist slid skinny elbows lazily across the counter, leaning on one palm and looking over at Klavier. “I’m training to be a detective. I’ll be one of the youngest to get accepted into the force in decades.” His crooked grin was back, and he accepted the drink that was passed over to him before fixing Klavier with a searching gaze. “What do you think of that- hard to believe, isn’t it?”

Klavier closed his mouth soundlessly, then tilted his head, leaning back a little. “A little… but I believe you. That’s pretty impressive.”

Daryan snorted as he took a sip from his glass, but there was pride evident in his smile. “I’ll say.”

“Maybe you’ve heard of my brother then.” Klavier tapped a finger against his thigh. “Defense attorney Kristoph Gavin?”

Instantly Daryan’s jaw dropped, and he set down his glass with a clink. “Shit, you’re related to that guy?” When Klavier nodded, Daryan let out a whistle. “He’s been kicking prosecutors left and right, man.” His tone turned accusatory. “We detectives get a lot of flak for that, you know.”

“Well, maybe that means you detectives have to work a bit harder at procuring evidence, ja?”

Klavier was quickly learning that Daryan didn’t take too kindly to criticism. He shot Klavier a dirty look. “Whatever, man.” He turned away, and Klavier sensed that Daryan wanted to be finished with this conversation. Klavier, however, was just as determined for it not to end.

“Hey, don’t take it personally!” Klavier leaned in a little more. “I’m on your side, too. As proud as I am of my brother… I’m studying to become a prosecutor.”

As he’d hoped, Daryan peered over at him once more, one eyebrow raised. “No way.” A small smirk slowly appeared as he studied Klavier’s face, and he nodded knowingly. “Stickin’ it to the man, huh?” Klavier frowned at him, and he laughed, spitefully, lacing his fingers and cracking a few knuckles. “Or maybe you want to be his mirror image? Just like him- except the other side of the coin, pretending that it’s different, because you’re supposed to be special.”

“Shut up.” Klavier couldn’t help the sharp interruption, but he didn’t regret it either. “That has nothing to do with… with anything. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Daryan turned to face him fully again, wearing a smug expression that screamed self-satisfaction. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to talk to me, remember? But now that it’s come to this… what’s a wannabe-prosecutor doing here, anyway?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Daryan hesitated, then shrugged, not bothered by the question. “I love music, and this helps pay the bills.”

Klavier paused. “Funny coincidence- I’m a musician, too.” Daryan’s expression didn’t change. “I watched you guys play back there, and I have to say that you… really impressed me. The rest of the band, not so much, but…”

He was surprised when Daryan’s smirk faltered a little. “Well yeah, I know I’ve got skills. But it’s not like they’ll take me anywhere. No one wants a guitarist who refuses to play music, even though it sucks.” He chuckled darkly. “You saw that up there… that bit in the middle? All mine. I know they’re gonna kick me out if I keep that up, but whatever; I’ll just go somewhere else.”

There was strange sort of determined melancholy in Daryan’s eyes, and Klavier leaned in a little. “What if you didn’t have to play bad music? What if someone else wrote something worth playing?”

Daryan laughed. “I dunno man… my standards are pretty high.”

“So are mine.”

The laughter fell silent, and Daryan took a drink from his glass before eyeing Klavier. “You?”

Klavier waved a hand. “Hear me out. I’ve been trying to get a record deal signed for a year now, and the only reason they won’t is because until now, I’ve gone solo. I wasn’t gonna stand for some cheap garage-band playing my music, either. But you… you’re really something else.” Daryan snorted at this, but it was a pleased sound, and Klavier knew he was gaining the upper hand. “Why don’t you just listen to what I’ve come up with, then let me know what you think?”

There was a long pause, during which Klavier added, “It can’t hurt.” Daryan stared thoughtfully into his near-empty glass, sliding his thin fingers around the rim. Klavier waited, patiently, a strange, almost self-conscious feeling creeping over him. Daryan was judging him without even looking, something he’d only seen Kristoph do. The thought raised goosebumps on his skin.

Finally the dark-haired teenager glanced up into Klavier’s eyes and grinned. “You know, I guess I kinda like you. And maybe this thing with us both working for the law is some sort of omen. I’ll hear you out.” He held out a hand. “Just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Klavier returned the look, feeling more optimistic than he had in a long while. “I think I’ll manage.” He shook Daryan’s hand, much more firmly than before.

He had a feeling this was going to work.

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Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
josshouse
Oct. 16th, 2011 01:04 am (UTC)
Haha, this is fantastic. What a great image. I can definitely see it happening like this.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )