Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ VIVA ❯ Ideas in F# Harmonic Minor ( Chapter 2 )

3: Ideas in F# harmonic minor

Wufei bolted upright in bed, shook his head and promptly reached over the side of his bed to the small stereo. He slammed the window shut just as a cacophony of various musics began blaring out of nearby windows and his own CD jolted into play. It was some Chinese pop thing his finace Meiran had insisted he listen to. He knew `listen to' actually meant `learn off by heart' in Meiran language, hence the reason it was in his player at all. It would not do to have to face an upset Meiran in his holidays.

Dragging on the uniform, and wondering not for the first time just why a college had a school uniform, Wufei glared out the window just for good measure before turning down the stairs toward the music side of the campus.

"Morning Wufei…" Trieze hesitatingly greeted his favourite pupil when Wufei emerged in the foyer of the Drama residence.

"It's just not right!" Wufei growled, waving a hand in the general direction of the music residence and the subsequent sound flooding the drama foyer.

"Technically there is nothing we can do to stop Standish," Trieze reminded him, not for the first time. "Although I do believe Yuy was doing a good job for a while there…"

Wufei had to agree and decided it would be a good idea to ask his friend to `do something about it' once more. Not that Heero would be pleased…Heero hated getting into any confrontation, but damn was he good at it! Wufei couldn't help but grin just recalling some of the head ons Heero had had with Une.

The cafeteria was full, but it was easy enough to grab a tray, throw some breakfast together and head in the general direction of the table they sat at every morning. Half way there, Dorothy did the rest, bellowing his name across the entire room before throwing herself over the table to give him the customary Dorothy wake up hug.

"Dorothy, I need to breathe!"

"Of course you do, just not right now," she replied tartly, eyes sparkling with mischief. Wufei barely restrained a groan. It was too early in the morning to be that awake!

Luckily, her attention left him and was transferred to an unsuspecting blonde figure who suddenly entered the cafeteria. Wufei left Quatre alone to deal with the other blonde menace. They should get along smashingly, in his opinion.

"Chang," Heero greeted quietly as he took his seat opposite. Trowa was at Heero's side, as always, a piece of freshly written score in hand, scribbling different versions on another piece with varying dynamics and expressive techniques. Heero was watching Trowa from the corner of his eye, or rather he was watching Trowa's fingers, inspecting the music he would no doubt be playing by the end of the day.

"What's this?" Wufei asked, wondering when he would get dragged into the mess.

"Trowa had after the assembly yesterday. He's been working on it since then…" Relena whispered in his ear, tossing her only half-full tray on the table before sitting rather haphazardly on the thin seat.

"Woman, is your arse getting bigger, or has the seat shrank?"

"Don't worry Wufei, I'm sure its just your clothes…"

Wufei gaped. Relena had certainly been spending far too much time with Dorothy. That comment was almost…well…harsh! And yet, still funny…

"Were I a vain man, that might have been the end of us Relena."

"You are a vain man. You jut know I'm vainer." She grinned at him, showing a mouth full of pearly white teeth slathered in potato mash and he turned away, deciding he needed coffee, and lots of it, to face the day.

"This," Trowa finally replied, "is the first draft for the end of semester performance. I haven't decided on the exact theme. I've just got some basic melody ideas, and a few structural notes."

Wufei nodded, leaning over the trays to get a better look. He liked what he saw. Mostly minor and diminished chords in harmonic minor key centres…All very classic, yet made slightly odd by Trowa's whacked rhythm fetish. Relena was in for a hard ride, which explained her sharp sense of humor this morning.

"We still haven't figured out a way to make it better than last year," Dorothy pointed out as she slumped down on the seat, pulling a very red and flustered looking Quatre after her. "Blondie here is a good start, but its nothing new. It is just another electric violin, no matter how great he is."

They all nodded while Quatre only seemed to blush more.

"Is that the new score?" Quatre asked quietly, pointing at the sheets trowa was ruffling through.

"Not quite, but one day it will be," Trowa replied equally quiet. Quatre just nodded, eyes roaming over the fly dots.

"I might have a few ideas…" Quartre noted carefully, as if nervous about how his suggestions might be taken. "But I want to look around the school a bit more before I bring them up."

Trowa and hero waved identical hands in response. Dorothy and Relena grinned, something suspicious passing between the two. Wufei groaned, knowing Quatre was about to be followed all day by the most aggravating women of his acquaintance. Still, Wufei was curious as to what their newest member could come up with. He had done damn well in their first rehearsal yesterday…Maybe Julliard had some talent after all.

"I only have one question!" Dorothy suddenly bellowed out across the lunch room, twice as loud as she had bellowed anything else that morning. Everyone froze, even the cook. Dorthy pointed an accusing finger at the doorway and one Mitchell Standish went ghostly pale. "Was that supposed to be Funk, Standish? Or are just happy to see me?"

Standish fled the cafeteria, leaving Dorothy, standing in the middle of the table, the cafeteria still silent as she cackled madly.

*

The afternoon came hard and fast, classes mostly filled with revision. So it was not a difficult thing to reach the end of the day find yourself with little more to do than write a simple chord chart and work on your own projects. That was how Trowa had gotten himself in the mess, but that didn't mean he liked it.

Trowa glared at the grimy instrument, wondering if it really was what it was meant to be. He had asked Une if they had one and she had pointed him in the direction of the woodwinds storeroom, but this….this was not what he had expected! Had no one played one in the last three hundred years? This was ridiculous!

`This' was a piccolo. It must have once been silver but was now a muddy brown, rusted and covered in so much dirt it was barely even recognizable. It looked more like a stick, broken into two parts to fit in a box, than an instrument. Let alone an instrument that would belong at the Wing College of the Arts. Evidently no one had ever had to play the piccolo at the college. That didn't mean no one could, or would…

Pulling a silver rag from his pocket, Trowa grimly smudged away at the mouth of the main piece until words came into view. He almost dropped the whole instrument on the hard wooden floor when the words were readable.

Deford-Elkhart glared at him from beneath the mess. The same brand as his antique flute, only this was worse. Deford-Elkhart only made one piccolo for every five hundred flutes. This was five hundred times rarer than his own rare instrument! It was worth a small fortune! Sitting himself down in the corner of the storeroom, Trowa grabbed a bottle of silvo from the shelf and began scrubbing.

While he had been interested in maybe including a piccolo part in their performance this semsester, now that he had this one in his hands it was a certainty.

It was hours later when a soft knock sounded on the door. Trowa grunted that it was open, but didn't look up from his work, almost finished the body of the small instrument and ready to start on the head. He saw rather small skate shoes, well worn and in need of replacing, move quickly past his own feet, could sense someone grabbing something off the shelf above his head, and then his eyes went wide.

The skate shoe lifted, stood on its toe, then spun, sharp and short, landed perfectly and continued on its way, back out the door. Looking up, Trowa saw the end of a long chestnut braid disappear through the open doorway. Looking at the shelf, he noticed the small gap between several boxes that indicated an SM-57 head microphone had been taken. A vocal mic.

Gently placing the piccolo aside, Trowa crawled toward the doorway and popped his head around, but the hallway was deserted in both directions. Exhaling heavily, Trowa crawled back to his small corner, pulling the door shut behind him, and grabbed his bag. From it he fetched his manuscript paper and a pacer pencil and began scribbling, mind replaying the way the shoe had lifted, spun, landed, continued…It had a rhythm all its own…and it squealed just a little, like the highest G you can play on a flute…or the high A on the piccolo….

Lifting the filthy instrument to his lips, Trowa blew…and fell into heaven. The instrument was imperfect, that was obvious the moment his fingers scratched against the keys. But if it was repadded, cleaned out, if the cap was replaced…It was perfect. Trowa was in love.

Howling with delight, he finished the line of music he had written and hurried out the door, leaving a small note for Une to show he had the piccolo. There was nothing worse than having Une breathing down your neck about a missing instrument.

Then it was off to the residencies and Heero's room. He burst inside without bothering to knock, to find Heero standing by the window, guitar strap over his shoulders as he worked on the scraps Trowa had given him that morning. Without saying anything, Trowa pulled out the piccolo and played the small exert he had concocted in the storeroom. Heero didn't comment, but played the circle of fourths underneath it. And it worked.

"I like it."

Trowa nodded in agreement, only `like' was a rather small word to describe what he was feeling. He had a brilliant idea…but he wanted to check it out first, see what he could really come up with, before he suggested it to the others.

*

Quatre took a deep breath before entering the crowded foyer. It was much more crowded than the other foyers in the residence halls, filled with groups of young women chattering wildly to one another, discussing a show they had seen in class, or a move someone had shown them during the day that they couldn't quite get right.

Quatre took one look at the gaggle before he backed straight out again and took another deep breath of cold air.

"Intimidating, aren't they?" An amused voice spoke near his shoulder and he turned to find a beautiful woman with short dark hair and equally dark eyes looking down at him.

"I think…that is an understatement."

She laughed and looked about to put her hand out when she recalled how cold it was and shoved them further inside her pockets instead. Quatre was glad, not wanting to put any more of his skin in the cold. He still couldn't believe it was only autumn.

"I'm Professor Noin. I teach Modern Dance and Jazz Ballet."

"I'm Quatre Winner. I'm a Violin major."

"Ah, from Julliard! Yes, I remember! I went with Une to see your performance at your father's request. You were sensational! I was very impressed."

Quatre blushed. He had never received such open praise at Julliard and it made his heart swell to hear it now. He was beginning to see why his father had wanted to move him from Julliard, which had been stifling his abilities and killing his confidence.

"What are you doing over here then?" Noin asked, curious, but not condemning.

"Oh, well I have joined the electric orchestra…"

"Really! That's fantastic. Their performance last years was…mind blowing to say the least!"

"I know, I've watched it a thousand times! Anyway, they want this year to be even better and wanted ideas. I had one, but…I don't think it's going to work." Quatre scrunched up his nose. He really had wanted to contribute to the group, but one step in that foyer and…He couldn't help but feel flushed.

"What exactly were you looking for? Maybe I could help?"

Quatre doubted it, but it was worth a shot, so he told her exactly what he wanted and gave her a brief idea of why. Intrigued as to why he would want that specifically, Noin nonetheless pointed him toward the practice rooms in the dance halls and told him to follow the beat. Unsure what that was meant to mean, Quatre nodded his thanks and hurried off through the soft snow.

By the time he reached the dance halls, Quatre wanted to know why they were the farthest away from the residences. After all, dancers needed their bodies to be warm, did they not? Shaking his head at the strange thoughts passing through his head, Quatre pushed open the doors and looked around.

This foyer was large. Much larger than he had been expecting, and made to feel even bigger as it was empty. There was not a sound to be heard…except…Smiling slightly, Quatre headed off in the direction of the vibrations running under his feet. Somewhere, someone had a beat box going. Loudly.

The dance halls were the largest in the school. They had to be. After all, you could play an instrument and stand in one place the whole time, but to dance…you needed space for that. Or so Quatre assumed. Peeking in through the few open doors, Quatre saw several ballet dancers practicing at the bar, as well as someone practicing a dervish. Only one of the dancers he saw was male. Apparently Dance was dominated by women, as he had seen in the residency foyer. Not that Quatre had a problem with women, but having grown up with sisters…lots of sisters…he was more than a little wary of stepping into situations that involved multitudes of women.

At last the music was pounding in his ears and he quietly knocked on the door. There was no response, so Quatre quietly opened the door and slipped inside.

The room was huge. Against one wall was the large stereo player, reflected a hundred times in the mirrors lining every wall. And there were hundreds of people…and yet, only one.

Quatre focused on the figure moving in the middle of the room and felt his heart start to pound wildly in his chest.

Slender, male, flowing across the room like liquid, mouth moving as he sang to the music, dancing to the rhythm…

The voice was a tenor, smooth, sultry, evoking…perfect.

The music came to a stop. He stood in the middle of the room, a small remote in his hand, eyes closed, head down, breathing hard. Quatre idly wondered how long he had been dancing, moving, forcing his body to its limits like that. It looked…a while.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone else had the room booked. You haven't been waiting long, have you?"

The boy looked up, head slightly to the side and Quatre gasped. He had…were those eyes purple or blue? It was hard to tell, but they were so large and beautiful…Quatre melted.

"No, I don't have the room booked. Noin told me I would find you here."

Now he looked worried, skeptical even. He certainly didn't look pleased.

"I'm Quatre. Quatre Winner. I play Violin. I'm a member of the electric orchestra…"

Now he looked impressed. Quatre wondered how one facial expression could show so much, and yet so little.

"I wanted to talk to someone majoring in dance and vocals. Noin said I should speak to you…"

The boy relaxed, wandered over to the stereo system and grabbed his CD before heading over to the door.

"I'm Duo," he held out a hand. "Duo Maxwell. Sorry about the smell, but if you want to dance you have to live with the sweat."

Quatre laughed and took the offered hand.

"Care to have dinner with me?"

Duo instantly perked up, eyes glimmering.

"Man, I haven't eaten since I got here! Food would be heavenly…Just…tell me we're not getting it from the dance residence…"

Quatre gaped. Hadn't eaten since…Why the hell not? Swallowing his quiet fury, Quatre grabbed the boy's hand without even thinking about it and started hauling him toward the music residence.

"You're a music student you idiot…If you can't get past that gaggle of women in your own damn house, just go find another kitchen!"

"Speaking from experience?" Duo seemed more than a little curious, and suddenly more cautious than ever. There was something in the way the words fell from his lips that told Quatre he was skating on thin ice.

"I have a lot of sisters…They eat a lot."

And they laughed together as they rushed through the twilight snow.