Meliora - Extricate - 40

[lady_mab]

Jun Zhou

I drop down onto his desk chair and push myself into a slow circle. "You know," I say, peering over my shoulder even as I turn. "You still have yet to play the guitar for me."

Glen's face is a mix of something close to horror and utter embarrassment. "Uh. You haven't asked."

"I am pretty sure I asked the last time I came over."

He hems and haws, sits down on the edge of his bed. My knees collide with his and neither of us move.

"Are you hesitant because you are bad?"

"Wow, rude. I'm decent, thank you very much."

"Then why not play for me?"

Glen opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. "You know, I was going to try and argue that it's not like I ask you to put your art on display, but then I realize you cook lunch for us all the time."

I grin in victory and nudge his feet with mine. "Play me a song."

"I'm rusty."

"I will not know the difference."

He sighs, a much heavier and dramatic sound than it really needs to be. He has to push me in a circle going in the opposite direction in order to get past me. "The things I do to impress you," he grumbles loudly, the back of his neck a pale pink.

A hum echoes from me in response and I try to fight down the grin that won't stop.

It's a different feeling than the times we have hung out in the past. That was part of a group, or for class. This was purely because he wanted to spend time with me, and I didn't hesitate when I agreed.

"Beat plays too, you know," Glen explains, settling back onto his bed and opening up the guitar case. "We would jam together a lot."

I tilt my head to the side, trying to interpret the meaning of the phrase 'jam together'. It doesn't translate well, but I think I understand what he means. "You two would play guitar together?"

He nods, bending an ear close to start tuning it. His hand moves across the pegs without looking as he twists them one way and another, strumming the strings in various patterns to hear how they sound together. "Since before secondary school. Neither of us have had lessons, though, and it's been a little over a year, so you might want to double think any idea of asking us to put on a concert." Satisfied with the end result, he strums all five strings a few times and nods again.

I don't know much about music -- my mother can play the guzheng, but Feng and I learned other skills. He learned martial arts from our father, and I took a few dance lessons. Cooking quickly became my thing.

"Okay, let's see... what should I play..." Glen continues to pluck at the notes absently, eyes aimed at the ceiling.

When I shift to sit down on the bed across from him, he tenses up and stares at me in surprise.

"I can... move back--" I start, pointing to the chair, but he shakes his head. Doesn't switch out of that wide-eyed stare, but does manage to relax a bit.

"No, you're fine." He coughs, clears his throat. "It's okay. You're okay! Uh. I'm going to play the guitar now." Without further ceremony, his fingers turn the idle plucking into a chord. The melody shifts, grows into something more coherent and more lyrical.

Glen hums under his breath as he plays, wordless, but in time with the song. I wonder if there are lyrics. It's not a song I recognize, but I still don't know a lot of music.

I close my eyes, hands in my lap, letting the sound wash over me. It's soothing and comfortable. Erases the lingering nerves that have been on my mind all afternoon.

The song slowly fades from a full melody to the picking of strings, and then he presses his palm against the instrument to silence it.

There is a beat, then two, before I allow myself to open my eyes again. "That is very nice."

"Thank you," he mutters in the direction of his lap.

"What song is that?"

"I, uh..." He scratches the back of his head and shrugs, sheepish. Just when I think he's going to say he forgot, he says, "I wrote it."

My jaw drops, eyes going wide, and I don't know how to respond. "Glen!"

"Jun!" He yelps when I smack his knee, though there is no force behind the gesture. "What?!"

"You write music, too?"

"Not very well! This took me a long time!" He distracts himself by playing random chords and fragmented melodies. One or two I recognize, but a few sound more reminiscent of the song he just played.

"Have you and Beat performed your song together? Do you have anyone to sing it?" Now I want to know what the words are.

His laugh is a sputtering sound. "Christ, no. That's too embarrassing."

I purse my lips. "But you just played it for me."

"You're different--" Again, he can't quite meet my gaze.

"Oh."

“A good kind of different!” he hurries to clarify. “I mean, the others... I’ve known them all for a very long time. But you know how when you meet new people, you’re suddenly not afraid to show them something that you’ve kept from others?”

My hands move to my hair, playing idly with the pink strands. Back in Beijing, it wouldn’t have stood out. I hadn’t thought to consider that in Eminence, no one else would have dyed their hair such a vibrant shade. But at the same time, I don’t mind too much.

It identifies me in a way I hadn’t been able to at home. I’m no longer the daughter and little sister they knew. Here, I am new.

“I understand. I will keep it a secret from others.”

His shoulders shake with slightly laughter. "Thanks. I'm sure it wouldn't be an issue, it's just..."

"Different," I agree. I reach out and take the guitar from him, and he lets me. I set it in my lap, plucking at the strings the way my mother tried to teach me. It doesn't sound anything like any zither I’ve heard, but that doesn’t stop me.

Glen watches me do that, fiddling with his pick, spinning the tiny piece of plastic around in his hands until he almost drops it. "Jun?"

I glance up, and his gaze ducks away -- only to return a moment later. "Hm?"

He takes his time forming the words, licking his lips and having to keep bringing his eyes back to mine. I wait, patiently, for him to gather himself. "You know why I asked you out, right?"

I don't know if I expected this conversation or not. "I do." It's been in the back of my mind the entire time -- from when we got dinner, walking back, and the entire time sitting in his room. I can hear the distant sound of his older brother playing video games a few rooms down. His door is closed, but that doesn't change the fact that there is the clatter of his family in the background.

Fingers still fidgeting with the pick, he takes a deep breath and plows on. "I know it's got to be a little weird. We're friends and all, and I don't want--" He stops, swallows, tries again. "I don't want anything to come in between the friendship first and foremost."

I set the guitar aside and fold my hands in my lap. His nervousness is rubbing off on me, but I don't necessarily hate it. "I know. It is fine."

"It's fine?" he repeats, voice jumping in pitch. "It's fine we can just keep being friends or it's fine that I'm making a really big ass of myself right now because--"

I reach out to touch his knee -- the tips of my fingers lingering for just a moment. "I mean, it is okay. You are not making yourself a fool."

There's another huff of laughter from him. "Is me saying this a little sudden?"

"A little." I shrug. "But I also did not think that you might actually mean it." When his eyes go wide in shock, I wave my hands in the space between us. "No no no, not like that. Not like you would tease me like that. I thought that... I thought it was just normal."

This time, his laughter gets him to double over at the suddenness and fierceness of it. "No, I'm not normally like that. I just... Man, I don't know. I don't know how to flirt. I'm sorry. I'm awkward."

I shake my head, the smile coming easily. "I told you: It is fine."

He lifts his hand, extending it towards me, then hesitates. "Can..." Glen bites the inside of his cheek, gathers his courage. "Can I be a little selfish, then?"

It's a curious question, and a curious way to phrase his request. My lips twist into a teasing grin that I try to fight down, except that his expression shifts into something a little more hopeful. "And what about me?"

"What about you?"

"Am I allowed to be selfish, too?"

When he laughs, it is strained but relieved. "Yeah. I think you are allowed to be."

I close my eyes and his fingers light on my cheek. He's still holding the pick in his hand, and the edge of it bites my skin. But the thought flees a moment later, when his lips press against mine -- a little chapped, but warm.

The kiss is soft and nervous, just like the rest of him.

He draws back a degree, enough to press our foreheads together. He leans into me, and so I push back until he’s laughing again. “Uh--” he starts, awkward, nervous.

Before either of us can react, though, there’s footsteps in the hall and his mom calling, “Glen?”

I practically jump out of my skin, leaping back and onto his desk chair. I press my hands to my face, the force of my movement sending me in a hasty half-spiral away from the bed and the door.

The door to his room opens a moment later and he lets out a bleat of protest. “Mom! Knock!”

“Sorry, honey. I didn’t notice you had a friend over.” She pauses. “Who is it?”

“It’s Jun. I told you--” I don’t know what sort of expressions they are making at one another, but I extend a hand around the chair and wave blindly.

“Oh. Sorry, sorry. Hello, Jun! Do you two want dinner?”

He makes a strained noise. “We already ate.”

Hoping that my blush is under control, I spin myself around to face the rest of the room. My legs are pulled up to my chest, and I give her a sheepish smile over my knees. “Thank you, Mrs. Willis, but I am good.”

She smiles softly at me then gives Glen a pointed look, eyebrows lifting just enough to be teasing. “Door open or closed?”

“Mom!”

She retreats with a laugh, closing the door behind her.

Glen just collapses back onto his bed, smacking the neck of his guitar on the way down. He groans the entire time. “I’m so sorry,” he wheezes and covers his face with both hands. “That was the worst. She did that on purpose.”

“I think it is a thing parents do. At least it is not like my family.” I crawl out of the chair and settle onto my back alongside him. I fold my hands over my chest and stare up at the ceiling. “The first time Feng brought a girl over, our father sat in the room the entire time. Would butt into every conversation. I was so embarrassed for them.”

He finally pulls his hands away from his face to stare up at the ceiling too. “I clearly didn’t think this through all the way.”

I start to laugh, and a moment later, he joins in. My head tilts to the side, and I study his profile as he rubs his eyes in self-defeat. “I think it was perfect.”

Glen’s chuckles fade and his head turns so he can face me as well. “Yeah?”

I reach for the hand that rests on the mattress between us, watching his expression shift from surprise to delight as I twine our fingers together and press my palm against his. “Yeah.”

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