The music of love

This story is dedicated to My bestfriend; Jasmine Francis. She is amazing, here is a link if you would like to connect with her on facebook.

I ran my fingers over its smooth faded gold surface. Taking in its worn beauty. Eyeing my own worn appearance in its reflecting exterior. Doing all I could to restrain my mass hair and replenish my naked eyes. Thinking about how I had begun to let myself go. Skin growing more strained and pale, lips dry and unattended. But what did it matter anymore. I wasn’t impressing anyone. No one wanted this. Like my tuba, I was dim, and no one’s first choice.

I sat up in my chair, and raised my mouthpiece to my lips. Feeling its cool surface .I let the cold spread over my lips. It soothed me. I wet my lips, and began to play. Grasping my tuba hard and holding it close, as if to say; “you are mine, you are the only thing that wants me.” I swayed with the flow of the notes, methodically pressing my triggers. My fingers don’t miss a note. My memory holds the most beautiful tunes forever. My eyelashes fluttered as I ascended to my high notes, and closed as I descended to my concluding note. A low hollow note, that nearly burst with the emotion engrossed within it.

I let it ring, listening to is resonance, and sat with my eyes loosely shut. Finally, I sighed, and let my eyes open and observe my instrument. Studying its contours, noting its various dents and blemishes, then let my gaze rest on an obscure reflection. A striking blue. Two small blue smudges nestled in a small dent on my bell. A deep, powerful summer sky blue. Curious as to where this beautiful Hugh was being emitted, I shifted in my seat. And turned to look at my closet door, where I was greeted by a warm pink smile. Tipped on either corner with a deep dimple, and surrounded by absolutely flawless skin. But the most obvious aspect, were his vibrant blue eyes. They looked as if they could blind anyone who dared look within them. Though right now, only half of them were visible, due to the dense brown bangs hanging over them

I noticed I was staring, and abruptly jerked my gaze away and turned back around in my seat. I began frantically stacking my papers and shoving them inside my bell. In my hurry, a few sheets fell to the floor. I decided to ignore them and continue my hasty clean up. When I finally leaned over to retrieve my fallen papers, I was met with bare carpet. The papers no longer waited on the floor. I sat up in confusion. I thought for a second, and then as if appearing out of a cloud, a long muscular arm stretched past my face. In his fingers, he held my music.

I quickly took them from his grasp, and placed those inside my instrument as well. I began to stand, but then I heard a deep hollow. “Wait.” I plopped back down, and waited for an explanation.

“That piece is so beautiful, mind if I try it?” His words rang inside my ears. I was trying to dissect that statement and see if I could sense any sarcasm. Finding none, I managed to stutter out the words, “Umm, sure.”

I was very confused. Did he play tuba? I stood and handed him my instrument.

I tiptoed back to the door, and waited. He took the music from my bell, and organized it. He found the piece he liked, and braced himself around the tuba. I noticed that he neglected to rid my mouthpiece of my existing saliva…Why did this intrigue me so? My thoughts raced, and uncontrollable whirlwind of various questions I wanted to ask of this guy.

But my tyrant thoughts were shattered by his first note. It started so soft with great length between the waves in his sound, but then it grew through his crescendo. The waves becoming closer and more furious. And just as I thought his tone was going to explode, he dramatically jumped down to pianissimo. The softest, most well rounded note I had ever heard. He continued throughout the song, rounding each note, and hitting each pitch to perfection. His posture was straight and acute, his embouchure was so firm, you could barely perceive that he was playing.

When he played the last, gorgeous note, I was finally jerked into reality. My eyes were strained from staring, hypnotized from his playing. I had no idea that the music had consumed me to the point of feeling every emotion expressed within it. I think I had found my next musical goal; To play this piece to the excellence of this mysterious boy.

He stared at the music for a short time. Then he took a deep breath, and stood. Setting the tuba the proper way on its bell on the floor. He looked up, and smiled.

Quickly, out of reflex, I brushed my air out of my face and began wiping away the smudges below my eyes.

He strided over to me and stopped barely 6 inches from me. I could feel the blood rush to my face.

His warm smile still stretched across his face, he softly said, “Thank you, it’s been 3 years since I have played that piece.”

I nodded and stepped aside so he could exit. But he didn’t step over the threshold. He just stood there, gazing down at me. Picking me apart, most likely criticizing my every aspect.

I chanced a glance up at him. Our eyes met. Every muscle in my body screamed look away, but my heart held our gaze. His eyes hypnotized me. I felt as if I could stand here forever lost in his deep blue eyes.

Finally his cell phone broke our trance. He let it ring a few times, then blinked, and reached for his phone. He answered and began to walk out the door, but caught himself in mid step, and turned around. I looked around to see if he had forgotten something, I glanced back at him. His smile aimed once again towards my undeserving bewildered face, the ends of his lips disappearing beneath the tight folds of the gorgeous skin on the corners of his lips. I looked questionably at him, forcing my own awkward smile.

He showed his ice white teeth, and chuckled at my failure of a smile, and spoke in distinguished, articulate words. “Hello, my name is Aaron.”

I stared awe struck for a few seconds, then pulled myself up, pushed out my chest, and confidently said, “My name is Jasmine Francis.”

He smiled.

“You are an excellent musician” I said a little too quickly, gesturing to my tuba.

He looked at the instrument, and modestly said. “I try, though I don’t seem to improve, but thank you.”

I was about to add a comment, but he interjected.

“I would love to hear you play sometime.”

This statement shocked me, but I contained myself and said, “Umm, sure, if you wanted to, we could meet here tomorrow.” He sensed the timid question in my statement, and self-assuredly replied,

“That would be divine.”

He smiled once more, and chuckled as he walked out the door.

Whenever he was no longer in sight, I exhaled fiercely and braced myself against the wall. I could not believe what just happened. Could that have been real? I was on the verge of hyperventilating. This beautiful man walks in, out of nowhere, and plays my tuba, then asks to see me again. Was this reality?

I walked from my school that afternoon in a daze. My mind floated, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

I fell asleep that night only thinking of him. I saw his eyes in the stars, and felt his lips on my pillow. How I longed to see his features once more. I wanted to touch every part of him. Feel his smooth skin. Caress his muscles, observe his every movement. This boy would not leave my mind.

I awoke the next morning, groggy. My mind fuzzy. I trudged to my bathroom, and prepared myself for the day. Sloppily drawing on my makeup, and painting on foundation. I felt no beauty.

But then, as I smoothed out the last layer of foundation, I remembered; The boy, the tuba, and the arrangements we had for today. I dashed back in front of the mirror, and began frantically dabbing on more makeup. Darkening my eyeliner to bring out my eyes, that when in comparison to his, were gray storm clouds. I gave my lashes shape, and tried to cover any blemish on my face. But no matter what I did, I would never measure up to him. The very thought of him shot a cold chill down my spine.

I had not expected to find him waiting for me in my closet. I really had not expected him at all. I was still quite doubtful of his existence. But there he was. Standing proudly next to my tuba, holding several sheets of paper.

I cautiously stepped through the door, a smile stretched wide across his face. Warming me, and causing my anxiety to lessen. I managed to force a smile through my panic stricken face, coming to rest in front of him. I stood there awkwardly. Letting my eyes wander around the room, to his shoes; Solid black converse. The tension began to grow as the silence thickened. It was near suffocating before I piped up and said. “So did you bring some music for us to play?”

He seemed to be suddenly brought out of a trance, and jumped a little at my words.

“Yes! Yes. These are some of my favorite pieces. They are beautiful, and I thought it would be appropriate to share such beauty with someone who shares this trait as well.”

I blinked multiple times. Trying to comprehend these words. I felt myself blush, and began to panic about what my returning words should be. Was he calling me beautiful? Or musical?

“Thank you, I anticipate playing them.”

Both of our faces seemed to relax. I heard his teeth unclench, and felt the sweat on my forehead dissolve. We had passed the boundary of flirting. Maybe I should give it a try.

Throughout the rest of that day, we played three of the pieces he brought. And he was right; they were the most elegant pieces of music I had ever played.

He taught me many new notes, and how to advance to even lower octaves. He was very insightful, and I realized I could speak to him so simply, and casually. He would stop and listen to the things I was saying. No matter the subject, he seemed enthralled in my every word. Absorbing their meanings.

When he spoke, I consumed every detail, analyzed its meaning, and held it deep within my mind, because anything to cherish his existence was of value to me.

As we concluded that afternoon, I found myself moving slower than my usual pace. I took my time in organizing my music, and actually took out all of my pipes, and thoroughly cleaned them, and replaced them with care. Hoping for an impression making final word. One of which, did come.

I sat back down, and sighed. It had begun to rain, and I was dreading the walk to the car.

A sudden sensation on my lower thigh jerked my attention from the window. I looked down to find his wide hand and long fingers gingerly resting on my leg. I looked up into his eyes. Once again shocked by the utter beauty of them. I was met by an equally eager gaze.

Still looking at me, he said, “Thank you, today could have not been any more fulfilling.”

My leg quivered at his crisp speech, but his hand did not waver.

In a shaky voice I said, “I can honestly say it was for me too.”

This time there was no need for a fabricated smile. This boy made me happy. He made me melt right where I was sitting. I had the urge to grab him in a never ending embrace, and by his unbroken gaze, I felt as if he had the same impulse. But we did not act on that overwhelming emotion that day. Or the next day, or week. But three weeks from our first encounter, something changed.

It was a Friday, and he had asked me to join him at a coffee shop. Throughout the past weeks, we had grown close. More than occasionally we would rest our hands on each other. Shoulders, legs, waist. We would brush against one another, and glance deviously at each other. We had evolved to a point where we talked more than we played. There were times we neglected to take our instruments out of their cases. We both had a deeper understanding of each other. And I liked what I had found.

He was a beautiful 16 year old, who attended central 2 years ahead of me. We are mutual tuba players, and both had a keen liking for slow classical pieces of music. Beneath his built body, and physical glow, there was a perceptive, caring young man. One of which I hoped to call mine one day. And from the encounter at the coffee shop, he seemed to have similar intentions.

I stepped into the coffee shop, and looked around. Spotting him casually sitting in a corner lounge chair. I noticed a dash of red on the other side of his leg. Curiosity and longing drove me to a near gallop to his side. He stood to be polite, and then opened his arms.

I was struck by this action, but my long wait for this moment overcame all hesitance, and I dove into his chest. Digging my face into his shoulder, taking in his scent. Trying to feel every part of his body with my own. He put his face in my hair, and we both inhaled. He made me feel complete. Like his strong arms were pushing back into one piece. He warmed me from inside out. I wished I could have stayed there forever. Safe. But I finally broke away. Smiling widely, and blushing slightly.

He took my hand and guided me to the chair he was previously sitting in. And took a seat on the table in front of me. He reached to something that was beside my right leg, and pulled his hand back with a dozen roses clasped between his fingers.

I had thought such a gesture only existed within movies.

Exasperated, I reached for the flowers. He extended his arm so I could reach.

My fingers grazed the thin plastic covering the thorns. My hand folded around their stems, and I pulled them to my face. I inhaled their rich scent. Fondling their round red blossoms.

He watched as I took in the flowers.

“I bought these to break the ice, and, so maybe you wouldn’t reject me.”

I looked up.

He opened his mouth to add something, but I spoke before he could get the words out.

“Yes!” I shout

His eyes widened, and I learched forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and, with no hesitance, pressed my lips against his.

They were warm and soft. Like his smile. I had almost forgotten what a kiss tasted like. But never had I tasted one this sweet. His lips moved with mine. Feeling every contour of each other’s lips. I forgot every problem embedded in my life, All I wanted, was to stay in his arms. Feeling so safe, and loved for eternity.

But we broke away. Sucking in a breath, and avoiding eye contact at first. But he broke the awkward tension, and took my hand. He walked me out the door and around the block. We walked until sun down, and concluded by one last, sweet, kiss.

We both walked away that night, with smiles plastered on our faces.

Throughout the next two months, my life was completely new and unexpected. And for once, I didn’t mind not knowing what was going to happen next. He would surprise me with gifts, and walk me to places I didn’t know Richmond held. He showed me parts of myself I did not know existed, and that night, showed me parts of him, I could never have imagined could be so beautiful.

His lips, the most suddle of pink, crushed themselves against my own. A surge of electricity jolted my body. My eyes fluttered under my eye lids.

I had never imagined this moment would come, I never thought we would grow to this point. But there we were, in that moment and I was prepared to give myself to him.

My eyes were still closed, but I could hear him unzip his pants. I was curious as to what would emerge from within them. I wondered what it would look like, feel like. I squinted one eye to catch a peek of what would soon be penetrating my loins. But all that was visible was a blur of his rushed hand movements.

We were still kissing. His lips began to move with more passion. He let his hands explore me. One hand weaved its way through my hair, the other lightly grazed my exposed hip. Goose bumps rose on my skin, and my anxiety grew.

Apparently he felt my lips grow cold with my sudden fear, because he pulled his face away from mind, and gently cradled my face with his palm. He stared hard into my eyes. Looking deep inside, as if he could see the fear pulsing inside them.

Then he softly said. “We don’t need to do this, this is a choice that will not affect our love no matter what you choose.” His eyes looked strained. He seemed so desperate to reassure me, to make me understand.

I looked up into his shadowy eyes, and a wave of sureness washed over me.

“I do want to…more than anything…I just don’t want to disappoint you…My body,, compared to yours…its like a flower blooming in a snow storm.”

He looked at me intently, with a horror struck expression.

He spoke that time, with a more stern tone. “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and right now, I am your beholder. I see immense beauty beyond description…inside...and out.”

I felt like crying. But that wasn’t me. I didn’t cry at patronizing words.

But for some reason, I did cry. His words surrounded me. Consumed me. Indulged me to the brim. They were real, And true. For the first time, I believed in someone.

So I proved I had laid all of my trust in him, by giving myself to him completely.

I removed my shirt, and slipped out of my jeans.

He gave me a look as If to say, “Are you sure?”

I ignored it, and reassured him by wrapping my legs around his waist, and strongly pressed my lips against his.

Both of our hesitance vanished, and he lightly pushed me against the bed. Holding my head, and gently laid it to rest on the pillow.

He gave me one more cautious “Are you sure?” glance, but when I deflected it, he proceeded.

He slipped off his purple boxers, and leaned over me. Not meeting my eyes. Which calmed me.

I could hear him suck in a breath, and saw his ribs expand.

I looked down to finally catch a glimpse of what would be entering me, and what I saw, surprised me.

8, maybe 9 inches of smooth skin. An acute V, leading to cleanly shaven skin, reaching to this beautiful extension.

Pride swelled within me. This must be the most perfect man alive.

He pushed himself above me. I had a perfect view of his developing abdominal muscles. Their strength was apparent. Small rounded squares descending to his tight beautiful skin. I became lost in them. But that was soon broken by a sharp pain of him piercing me between my legs. It made me squeeze my eyes shut, and clench my teeth. I felt like screaming. It felt as if I had been ripped apart.

But then he slowly pulled himself out.

Relief washed over me. I squinted my eyes, and peered up at his serious face.

Then, once again slowly eased back inside.

I braced myself for what I thought was coming. But this time it was a different sensation. Not pain. But the most brilliant pleasure I had ever experienced.

My eyes opened wide, and I gasped for breath.

He slid back out. Causing me to emit, a strained, pleasure filled moan.

He made sure to move smoothly and fluidly.

But I didn’t want him to go easy on me anymore. I wanted more force. I wanted to feel him entirely.

So I took it upon myself to push my body against his, sliding down the sheets, silently begging him to reach deeper. He realized immediately and began speeding up. Letting me rest once again.

In, and out. He carried me through. Glancing down on occasion to be sure I was not in pain.

But that was anything but pain. It felt like the most beautiful string orchestra, all playing at once, caressing his thighs, and flowing into me. The sun was shining in the darkest of places, and it was only because of him. He brightened the darkest parts of me, and smothered my heart with the indescribable passion I retained for him. That was the moment I passed all of my boundaries, and stepped into a new spotlight; Him.

I wasn’t sure how long it was, if it were up to me it would have been forever. But the time it did take, was the most breathtaking, pleasure filled moments of my life, and our climax could not have been any more beautiful.

He took one deep breath, lifted himself for a second, and then let himself fall against my body. Not putting all of his weight on me, but enough for me to feel his racing heart, and eased breaths. He easily removed himself from me, and then laid next to me. Rubbing his hand over my stomach and chest, and kissed my neck. I fell completely in love that night. And wanted to spend eternity in his arms. And after his final words that night, all of my ugliness, and self hatred, diminished. Because his words reached inside me deeper than any part of him could.

“I am completely, and utterly, in love with you. My heart is yours…forever.”

And I believed him...

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Everything about this is amazing, I want more!