James flung open the door, still enraged at the absolute cock-up that was his afternoon improv exercise. His partner had been utterly unprepared – because, contrary to popular belief, improv required actual preparation – and everything had gone to hell in a handcart.
“Have you ever been stuck with Sanderson for an exercise?” he began, and he stopped short.
Tobias was standing in the middle of the room poised with a violin, eyes closed, making the the strings weep.
James took a deep breath, and then he closed the door quietly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Tobias opened his eyes and smiled. The curve of his mouth was utterly gentle, but his eyes were pitch black, and he looked ready to cry. “Don’t worry, you didn’t disturb me.” He lowered his bow and stretched his neck. “Just thought my instrument needed a little love. School got in the way for a while.”
“I didn’t know you played,” James said. He sat down on the edge of his bed.
“I’ve played since I was a child.” Tobias reached into his pocket for a hanky and used it to clean the strings. “I used to practice every day, but then I decided on drama instead of music.”
“I play the guitar, but not nearly as well as you play the violin,” James said, awed. “I hear it’s one of the most difficult instruments to play.”
“Maybe,” Tobias said. “Do you have a guitar?”
“Sold it to buy books,” James said. “What song were you playing?”
“Old Russian melody,” Tobias said, and his smiled turned brighter. “It was a love song, but they all sound like dirges.”
James laughed. “Can you sing any of them?”
“Do you want to top yourself?”
“Fine. Can you play Flight of the Bumblebee?”
(297 words)
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