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Deus Ex Machina
A/N: My magnum opus for the year...that accidentally got handed in to the chorus teacher...^^
The chorus room is dark, the thick grey shades pulled down over the back windows, cutting off the early morning sunlight. Zalman sits at the piano. He is a slight figure, tall and gangly with light brown hair that curls delicately into his eyes. There is no sheet music. His hands, well trained and corded with veins, dart up and down the keys like hyperactive crabs. Music fills the empty air, whirling as he plays with a lanky elegance lacking in anything else he does, drowning out everything else in Zalman's mind. Nothing can break his concentrationÑhe is lost in the music.
The song intensifies. His fingers gain momentumÑZalman feels an adrenaline rush even better than a shot of caffeine. He moves smoothly into the coda, and strikes the final chords with exuberance. As the last notes dissipate into silence, he releases a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.
"I thought I'd find you here."
Startled, Zalman looks up. Stefan is standing in the doorway.
"Hey," Zalman says. "What are you doing here so early?"
"Waiting for somebody," Stefan replies. "Mind if I come in?" he says as he walks over and tosses his bag into one of the chairs along the front wall.
"No, not at all," Zalman says, his normal sarcasm lacing into his voice. Then he hesitates. "Actually, there's something I need to ask you about." Stefan occupies his normal spot, the tenor chair closest to the piano. Zalman shifts around until he's facing Stefan.
Stefan asks, "So, what's up."
"Well," Zalman begins, "I was looking around on sconex last night, and I found somethingÑ"
"You found Mem's notebook, didn't you," Stefan interjects. There is no question in his voice.
"Mem..." Zalman thinks a moment. "Yes, that was her. She's that crazy alto of yours, right?" Stefan laughs a little.
"No, she's not mine," he says. "I'm hers."
"What?" Zalman asks, eyebrows raised. "Like...how?" Stefan laughs again.
"No, not like that," Stefan shakes his head, "Mem's a little detached from the world. To her, we're not people, we're characters to be played with. Once she takes an interest in you, you become her own creation for her to do with what she will."
"She likes you a lot," Zalman comments thoughtfully. Stefan fidgets a little. "I mean," Zalman continues, "she stares over here a lot."
"Oh, she's not staring at me anymore," Stefan says, "She stares at you."
"Me?" Zalman is surprised. "Why me?"
"To her, you're the most amusing thing in the world. Or, her world." Stefan sighs. "She reads your life like a book. It's just another story to become obsessed with and write fanfiction about. That's how she ends up with all the little observations she has about you."
"Observations?"
"Well," Stefan begins, "When you play the piano, you nod your head in time to the music, except it's sort of a sharp nod, almost a flick. When you're bored, you tend to zone and not pay attention. You don't like people all that much, you have low self-esteem, but you do have an ego, despite what people think. Mrs. Hall yells at you because you're always ahead of her, and you never listen, but we all know that we'd never be able to manage a lot of the more complicated stuff without you. And when you're happy, you sing." Stefan hesitates a moment, and then grabs one of Zalman's hands. "Your hands," he continues, cheeks slightly red, not meeting Zalman's eyes, "are corded, and look slightly gnarled, with knotty jointsÑolderÑbut are actually sinewy, muscular, and agile..."
"Did she tell you that, too?" Zalman asks tersely, his eyes fully trained on Stefan. The hand that Stefan is holding is tense.
"She can't see over the piano from the other side of the room, can she?" Stefan smiles in spite of himself. "No, that one's just me. I watch you, too..."
"You mean...all those times I thought you were watching me...I wasn't just imagining...?" Zalman's body tenses more, but his hand relaxes as he trails off. He looks off to the side, not daring to match Stefan's gaze.
"No," Stefan edges closer. Zalman looks back at Stefan, hesitating.
"Mem," Zalman says nervously, "She'll find out."
"So she'll find out," Stefan inhales deeply. "Zalman..." Zalman leans in closer...
"Stefan? StefAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaan!" comes a penatrating voice from outside. Zalman straightens up quickly, his face flushed.
"That's her." Stefan looks around shiftily, his tan cheeks glowing as well. "How does she have so much energy in the morning?" he wonders aloud, and reluctantly lets go of Zalman's hand.
"Play something," Stefan urges anxiously. "AnythingÑsomethingÑa madrigal. OrÑorÑBroadway." Zalman quickly complies with a grin, playing one of the most well known showtunes ever. An answering voice comes from outside.
"I've got rhythm, I've got music, I've got my guy, who could ask for anything more?" Mem swings around the doorframe into the chorus room. "Who could ask for anything more!" She's grinning as usual as she greets Stefan and leans on the piano, looking at Zalman carefully.
"You should smile more," Mem remarks thoughtfully. "It's good for you." Zalman and Stefan exchange glances. It's a start.
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