Date: Mon, 29 Jul 2013 23:22:09 +0800
From: kkrimson
Subject: Singing Hearts chapter 1

Disclaimer: This work is of pure fiction and any resemblance of the
characters and settings to real life persons, events, circumstances, etc. is
purely coincidental. This work involves the youthful discovery and pursuit
of love between two teenage boys in contemporary time. If you are not a fan
of this kind of literature, pleace proceed somewhere else. This is not a
quick jack off story. Instead, the characters are eventually developed as
new chapters in their lives unfold, mainly revolving around love and the
things that go along with it (i.e. pain and pleasure).

Copyright kkrimson 2013

--- Prologue

	I hold in my hands the memento of his love. Cold and gray, the memories it
keeps means otherwise. Chain-linked in the middle, two very distinct shapes
take form. On one end of the link is a circle meant for holding keys. Yes,
it is a key chain. But one that is very close to my heart. On the opposite
end, as one might safely presume, is a heart, with a boy and a girl facing
each other while holding hands enclosed in it. But this heart isn't meant
for holding keys. Instead, it has the word 'LOVE' engraved on a slightly
smaller heart right at the center where the curves of the bigger heart meet.
The metal is partly highlighted with a blue pastel color; 'LOVE' in plain
black.

	I sighed, gently inspecting the thing. It's beautiful to look at. Sure
enough, it is plain metallic in color - chrome, that is. But from my own
eyes, I can vividly see many distant memories we've shared. I felt tears
dampening my cheeks - ones I haven't had the time to release. I don't feel
sad or painful. I am actually relieved knowing everything happened for the
best. I let him go, but I still hold onto my feelings for him. Despite my
tender age, I knew I loved and still love him. And he loved me back. But
some things just change. It's the only thing ever constant in the universe.
Our past was as much innocent as it was worth remembering. What we shared
between us was our heated passion and care for each other as we wrestled,
cuddled and kissed. Twelve years into our lives, we've learned about the
importance of having one another. But that quickly vanished.

--- Concerto of the Heart

	The first time we met, I was doing my voice lessons. It was kind of
difficult for me to get the hang of singing through my gut and not through
my nose. Oftentimes, I ran out of air or my voice was just too croaky. That
added more reason for me to have voice lessons. You see, I grew up in a
family of musicians. My mother played the piano, my father was a magnificent
violinist and my older brother was very good with his guitar. Moreover, they
all played other instruments fairly well. And all of them knew how to sing.
It's not that I suck at the musical department. I actually played the piano
and guitar quite well. All I needed was a good voice to go with the melody I
played. Add to that, my brother also endured voice lessons to get to where
he was. Playing for their own local band, he was quite popular with the
girls - being the vocalist and lead guitarist at the same time. My parents
weren't about to go astray with me. Hence, the voice lessons.

	I was barely finished with my warm up vocal exercises when I heard a small
and teasing laugh from outside the room. I had my lessons in a studio that
catered to several students interested in music. I was in one of the small
rooms they had installed in the building. It was supposed to be sound proof
but the door to the room was intentionally left open and I didn't know why.
Maybe fate had something to do with that. Anyway, the laughter pretty much
caught my previously undivided attention. I stopped singing with my mouth
still slightly open. I looked to the door and saw a cheeky looking boy of my
age. He covered his fading laughter with his little hands while his cheeks
turned light pink. He also had his eyes on me and he looked very amused. I,
on the other hand, tried to look very annoyed.

	My teacher cleared her throat, turning my attention to her once more. She
was seated in front of a piano while I stood in front of her, slightly to
her right. She stopped playing at the same time I stopped singing. She must
have seen where I was looking for she turned that way. She smiled at me and
stood up, walking towards the door.

	"Why hello. You must be Alexander. I'm Ms. Jane and that boy there," Ms.
Jane pointed at me, "is Peter. Come in, so we can start immediately."

	Ms. Jane offered to lead the boy, Alexander, by his hand which he silently
let her do. She closed the door this time. They came up to me and Ms. Jane
seated once more. She motioned for me to introduce myself properly to the
boy in front of me.

	"Hi. I'm Peter Oates, twelve years old. I play the piano and guitar; nice
to meet you." You'd think I seemed uncharacteristically formal with my
introduction, but so be it. I was not used to offering handshakes so I left
that part out.

	"Hi Peter. I'm Alexander Fredenham, same age as you. I'm not into any
instruments, but I'm a good singer. Oh, you can call me Andre, if you want."

	His voice was soft and slightly high pitched. He was smiling at me the
whole time. I was mesmerized by his sky blue eyes that saw through my soul.
And it became clear to me that his little blush earlier was natural for his
rosy cheeks with dimples on either one – a perfect blend with his pale skin.
I was almost drawn into kissing his thin and pinkish lips that looked overly
appetizing. Oh, I should have told you this earlier. I found out at the age
of eight that I liked boys. I even had at least five boy crushes from my
school. I didn't tell my parents because I was afraid of how they might
treat me once I'm out. It wasn't much later that they told me they already
knew at that point. So it was no wonder that I was instantly charmed by
Alexander – by this son of a god. I had another boy crush added to my list.

	"So, what should I call you?"

	"Huh? Oh... Peter - just Peter." That snapped me out of my thoughts. I must
have zoned off for a while but Alexander didn't look bothered at all. But it
got me thinking. Why was his nickname Andre when it wasn't even close to
Alexander. I would have preferred Alex, but that wasn't any of my business,
was it?

	"Cool." His smile slowly wore off as he now stood beside me.

	"Okay, let's continue. Peter, start off where we left. Alexander, follow
Peter's lead," Ms. Jane started playing once more and I followed after the
first two notes. Andre soon joined me and he instantly made his way to the
top of my list.

	His voice was golden – for the lack of any better word to describe it. Even
though we were just singing one-syllabled notes, he sounded very emotional
and comforting. He hit the notes right and even managed to pour his feelings
into it. I felt small standing beside him and noticed my voice slowly
turning into a whisper. I looked at him from the corner of my eyes. He had
his eyes closed, but his face showed no strain while hitting the high notes.
He was a natural. He had the voice of an angel.

	Ms. Jane looked at me conspicuously. I struggled to keep my voice and even
labored to match Andre's. He sang in soprano. That didn't surprise me. Most
children of our age had high voices. I, too, was a soprano, but quite a
terrible one. It didn't take long for us to finish the exercise. I breathed
out, glancing towards Andre.

	"Very good, both of you. Peter, make this a daily habit, ok? And Alexander,
I'd like to hear you sing a full song. Anything you like, you can start."
Ms. Jane had that expectant, but tender look in her eyes. She had both her
hands on her lap and waited for Andre's cue. I, too, became anxious.

	Andre breathed in, closed his eyes and was silent for a few seconds. Then,
he began to sing. It was a very familiar song. Silent Night. In the span of
my short life, I've never heard more raw emotion than that coming from his
song. It easily echoed within the room and, surprisingly, in my heart. Right
there and then, I fell head over heels for this boy. I smiled.

	"Did you like it?" The question was directed no more than towards Ms. Jane
than to me. I snapped out of my thoughts, suddenly feeling shy. Andre looked
at me, half smiling.

	"Uh, it was...good," I couldn't say anything more. Truth be told, I loved
it. But as embarrassing as it was for me to admit that, I said the safest
word for a compliment. He turned to Ms. Jane, still sporting that smile. As
it struck me then, he radiated confidence.

	"You're a good singer, Alexander. I'm sure we'll breeze through these
lessons easily. And I'd appreciate you helping Peter as well," Ms. Jane
still stuck to calling him by his full name. It may have been her way to
formalize this whole arrangement. On the other hand, she called all of her
students by their full name so maybe it was just her way of addressing
people.

	It got me thinking, though. I suddenly became the apprentice of my
teacher's apprentice. Well, I didn't know anything about apprenticeship and
such, but it sure felt like I was beneath the two of them. One more thing:
if Andre already sounded this good, why did he still need voice lessons. As
if on cue, Andre spoke up.

	"Thanks Ms. Jane. My dad thinks it best for me to continue improving. And I
really love to sing and to learn more about it," he spoke fluently, as
though it was practiced.

	"I'm sure your father is right. Now then, we'll continue this after an
hour. I still have to check on the other students. Why don't you boys get to
know each other? I'm sure Peter would love to give you a look around the
studio. Just be back here at 11 sharp," Ms. Jane stood up and exited the
room, leaving me behind with an angel.

	"So...where to?"

	For the millionth time that day, I was pulled out of my thoughts. I barely
heard him asking, still dwelling on the thought of being alone together with
him.

	"I guess we could check out the other rooms here. They have lots of
instruments, too. If you want, we could try them out."

	"Cool. Lead the way then," he stepped aside and allowed me a clear path
towards the door.

	I showed him around the building within just 15 minutes. The studio wasn't
that big. It was big enough for 20 students, with two floors installed with
5 rooms each. It stood somewhere at the heart of the city of Dallas. The
rooms housed several instruments, each with a piano except for the two rooms
on the first floor that served as the office and lounge for the 4 teachers
running the studio. There were only 12 students being taught. Six of them
were learning to play the guitar while four of them endeavored with the
piano. The last two, Andre and I, enrolled for voice lessons. I knew every
other student around, but never got to introduce Andre to any of them as
they were in the middle of lessons. Ms. Jane was the head tutor so she took
the liberty of checking on students every once in a while. All the students
were kids like us, ranging from as young as five to 13 as the oldest. As per
curriculum, it was a pretty decent private school for music.

	Soon after, we found ourselves back in our room. There was still more than
half an hour before we continued our lessons. There was an awkward silence
between us. Well, at least, to me, it was awkward.

	"You said you played the piano, right?" Andre seated on the left end of the
bench in front of the piano.

	"Yeah. So?" I knew he'd ask me to play, but I tried to remain oblivious.

	"Play for me," he smiled which made him sound less demanding.

	"Sure. Why not?" I sat on the right end of the bench while Andre leaned a
bit back to allow me full reach of the keys.

	I started with a few notes. I couldn't see Andre's face to actually tell if
he knew the melody. It was a very popular composition in classical terms. It
was Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 9 in E-flat major which he wrote at the age
of 21. I played almost mechanically. It was as if my fingers knew which keys
to hit even without me looking. But, as much as it seemed mechanical, I
actually knew the keys by heart. I loved playing the piano. I loved how the
delicate keys struck the even more delicate strings, allowing the free flow
of emotions.

	I didn't finish the Concerto. I was in so such hurry and it took damn long
to finish, but I was eager to see Andre's reaction to my self-acclaimed
greatness. I leaned back and looked at him. His eyes were still fixed on the
piano keys and his mouth was slightly open. I tilted my head, eyeing him
curiously. Was he caught under my spell? Was he able to hear the emotions I
played? What the heck was on his mind?

	Then, his lips - those damn kissable lips - curved into a smile. His eyes
left the piano keys and he looked at me. I still had my head tilted a little
to the right while my eyes mirrored his. I actually felt my heart skipping
several beats.

	"Wow," he was in lack of words, I could tell.

	"That's it? I mean, thanks," I was in lack of words, too. Damn it. Did he
have so much effect on me to even render me almost speechless with just one
word?

	"You're really good. You should have finished playing. I'd really love to
hear the rest."

	"I don't know the rest of the notes," I lied. "I'm still learning the
composition. And besides, it takes too long to finish."

	"Really? It looked like you knew what you were doing. You had your eyes
closed."

	I had my eyes closed? I didn't even know. Wait, he knew. It meant that he
was looking at me while I was playing. I blushed. He giggled. I pouted. He
giggled some more. I blushed some more. Damn it.

	"When did you start playing?" His subtle giggles still ringed in my ears. I
felt my flushed cheeks recovering.

	"My mom taught me when I was four. I played since then. She's a really good
pianist," I said with confidence. My mom really was good at playing the
piano. She even joined the Oklahoma City Philharmonic before she got
married.

	"She did you good. Hey, do you know any popular songs?"

	I nodded and started playing songs from this decade. We spent the remaining
time of our break that way. I played and after a while, his voiced
complemented the melody I played. He was a very good singer and I played
equally well. It wasn't long before Ms. Jane came back and the rest of our
lessons unfolded uneventfully.

	We left before lunch time. Our lessons only lasted for half a day, from
nine until 11:30 in the morning. And it was only during weekends. It was
then a Saturday. My mom was going to pick me up. I waited outside with Andre
still at my side.

	"You're cool Peter. I had a good time." He was waiting for his dad, he told
me earlier.

	"You, too, Andre," it was my turn to smile at him. In fact, it was the
first time I showed him my own cheeky grin. He smiled back. Just then, an
SUV parked in front of the building.

	"Well, my dad's here. See you tomorrow, I guess," he said as he was walking
towards the vehicle. A few steps forward, he turned back to me.

	"Oh, yeah. You're really cute." His golden brown hair, dancing in the wind,
covered his beautiful eyes as he giggled and ran towards the road. He got
inside the car and I could see his silhouette waving at me. Awkwardly, I
waved back as the car started on its way.

	Me? Cute? Was he teasing me? If he was, he damn well succeeded. I was
standing there, my face flushed, my heart skipping a few beats. Andre's
smile still lingered on my thoughts. His amazing eyes were burning images
into my fragile mind. His melodious giggles were echoing in my ears. His
angelic voice was pulling at my heart. If someone was actually cute, it was
him.

	Again, I was pulled out of my thoughts by my mom's car pulling in front of
me. I didn't even realize I was already walking down the same path Andre ran
on a while ago. My mom opened the passenger seat and I got in. We talked for
a while about the lessons and anything that transpired. I told him about
Andre and she eyed me knowingly. Like I said, I didn't know that my parents
already had their suspicions about me liking boys. So, I was completely
oblivious to my mom's curiosity. I told her about Andre's singing and she
smiled at this. She told me that he'd be a good influence on me.

	"Yeah, I guess so," I sank into the seat, thinking of Andre.

	"So, where do you wanna go for lunch? KFC sounds good?"

	"Yeah," I sat back up, showing her my ecstatic agreement. I loved Kentucky
Fried Chicken. This certainly put me back into my happy mood. Andre could
just sit back on my mind. Right then, I just wanted to eat.