Practicing in solitude

James peered through the half opened door of the music room, glancing about for other students before slipping in and closing it silently behind him, satisfied that he was alone. It was around six o'clock, and warm orange light still streamed from the large windows, illuminating lazily swirling dust mites and providing the perfect atmosphere for an early evening practice session.
He crossed the room, treading lightly as if any sound would alert someone to his presence. He'd waited hours for everyone to leave the upper floors of the school, and although he knew he'd be making a lot of noise in a few minutes, the small boy was still almost tiptoeing through the room.

A large concert grand piano sat in the middle of the room, dark wood polished and gleaming, the object of his clandestine visit to the music room. He ran a hand lightly along the back, delicately fingered the intricate carvings on the music stand. It was obviously quite old, and definitely high quality, although he couldn't say much beyond that. Jamie didn't know much about pianos, having never played on anything but the scratched and chipped upright his parents kept in the basement back home, but ever since he'd seen the grand through the open door earlier that day he'd been itching to try it out.

Finally, he had his chance. He sat down on the plush velvet bench, running delicate fingers over the gleaming white keys experimentally. There was no sheet music to be seen, and his private collection was in his dorm room, too far away to run and get it without possibly loosing the opportunity to play in peace. He absentmindedly ran through a few scales, trying to think of something he knew by heart. Finally he straightened his back, rubbed his hands together in a vain attempt to warm them up, and began to softly play a nocturne. He'd written it himself, a few years ago, and though it was originally fairly simple, he had been adding to it and changing it for so long that it was in its current form quite difficult. He played, shoulders bent in concentration, missing a few notes at first, but warming up quickly to the slow, dreamy melody. The piano was fantastic, tones rich and keys soft and easily played. Nothing stuck, nothing sounded tinny or echoed too long. He paused for a moment, playing a measure first one way and then another, finally deciding on the second way and making a mental note to change the original sheet music when he got back to his dorm. Next time, he'd remember to bring it with him.

James closed his eyes, letting himself become fully immersed in the music. He hadn't played for weeks - ever since his parents had found out about his powers, he'd spent all his time stuck in long talks that always seemed to degenerate into shouting matches. It was nice to finally have some time to himself, to unwind and practice the one thing he was truly good at. He really should go back and get his sheet music; it was looking like he'd have the place to hims-

That is a nice piece, you made it yourself?"

James jumped up reflexively, startled by the sudden noise behind him. Turning around, a bit annoyed and more then a little embarrassed at the interruption, he saw it was Dorn, standing a bit away from him and smiling down at him friendlily. He crossed his arms protectively, a little shaky from the surprise. He wondered how long the other boy had been there, worried if he'd made any mistakes in his presence. He hated the thought of someone listening to him play, but at least it was a friend, and not a total stranger. "I wrote it." He confirmed, staring shyly at the floor between them.

He sat back down hesitantly, careful to allow enough room for the other boy and nodding assent to Dorn's request. "You play piano?" He asked quietly, glancing up at the taller boy curiously. He wouldn't be surprised to hear that he did - the boy seemed to do almost everything else.

Jamie ducked his head at the compliment, running a cold hand through copper hair in embarrassment. Normally he'd make a self deprecating comment, or simply ignore the compliment, certain that the boy was just trying to be polite. But the piano was special. The piano was something he understood; it was his, and he allowed himself the knowledge that he played it well.
"I wrote it three years ago." He said, slowly beginning to calm down from the surprise of being caught. It was not often that he offered information about himself without prompting, especially about something as private to him as his compositions. But he liked Dorn, and he was still relieved that the person who had walked in on him had been someone he knew. He watched as Dorn inspected the piano, nodding in agreement at his assessment of the instrument.
"Plays wonderfully. Very beautiful. I'm glad there's something like this here... It's fun to play."

He frowned quizzically, watching Dorn running his fingers across the keys. The way he treated the piano didn't seem to support his claim that he couldn't play well.
"I'm sure you're better than you let on, eh? For how long have you been playing?" He asked, grasping the edge of the bench lightly and kicking his feet back and forth. The bench was higher then the one he had at home, and his feet barely touched the ground unless he scooted to the edge.

"Ah... Well. I'll try... But I'm not used to playing for people." He flushed, lithe fingers twisting together nervously in his lap. "And it doesn't fit the technical definition of a sonata and the second movement's not quite right. But... I'll try." He was wearing his glasses, and he peered over the top of them doubtfully at Dorn, as if waiting for him to accept some imaginary term. Finally, he slid forward on the seat so he could reach the pedals, touching perpetually cold fingers to the keys and beginning the sonata again. This time the melody was fresh in his head, and he played it smoothly and without wavering, fingers running nimbly up and down the keys, still careful not to intrude upon Dorn's personal space.

Jamie's eyes widened, and he examined the piano with fresh reverence.
"Kinda intimidating, eh? My piano's probably worth two hundred - and that's in Canadian dollars. Makes me feel a bit unworthy." He fingered the ornate carvings, suddenly feeling a little guilty for sneaking in to play such an expensive instrument.

"Ten years?" He stopped swinging his feet abruptly, turning to the taller boy incredulously.
"I've only been playing for six. And you had someone to teach you... You're probably better then me, then." The idea didn't seem to bother him much. He straightened up, scooting over so that Dorn had more room. "Play something?"

He grinned happily at Dorn's compliment, but was uncomfortable accepting it entirely. "Well, I wouldn't say I have a gift for it. I wish I did. It definitely didn't come naturally - things always took me twice as long to learn. Still do, I guess. If I hadn't had a lot of time on my hands to practice, or if I hadn't been as motivated as I was, I never would have gotten this far."

Jamie grinned, shrugging. "Even worse. Now I've gone from playing a priceless piano to playing a priceless work of art."

"Oh. Wow. Sorry." He went completely serious, patting the boy hesitantly on the back. Apparently he'd dredged up awful memories. Dorn seemed to have had a hard childhood; he felt horrible for his apparent knack for reminding him of various hardships. "Sorry," He said again, awkwardly. Comforting people was not his strong suit. When he was upset, he liked to be left alone, not talked to or hugged. He was wondering if he should leave when Dorn suddenly seemed to brighten somewhat, smiling over at him friendlily. He returned the smile, hesitating for a moment before leaning back and propping himself up with his hands. He couldn't leave; he still hadn't heard Dorn play.

The melody was slow and soft and beautiful, and James watched his fingers move intently, observing his technique with interest. By the time he finished, Jamie was grinning over at him, duly impressed. "Knew you were good." He said, waving a finger towards the boy rebukingly. "Song is very pretty. Maybe you could teach it to me sometime?"