Discord

A frantic symphony of scraping chairs and overlapping voices filled the cafeteria as it hummed with energy. The long tables' edges were gilded by the sunlight streaming in through the tall windows, but the air had a sterile tang to it, the subtle odour of sweat and spilt juice covered by disinfectant. The corner table, which faced the courtyard where a stone fountain sprayed water in languid arcs, was Lalin's. She slumped into the chair after dropping her tray with a purposeful thump, the sound lost in the commotion. Her body locked up mid-performance, the hush of the auditorium weighing down on her like a physical weight, and her fingers twitched, restless after the morning's disaster.

The tines of the fork bent a leaf until it broke as she jabbed at her salad. Barbed edges of whispers floated from an adjacent table. Not even able to move. Up there it looked like a mannequin. A faint ache blossomed along the hinges of Lalin's clinched jaw. She gritted her teeth and took a bite. It was impossible to fall apart here, when every look was a condemnation.

Kiet sat at the end of a bench across the room, his shoulders bent as though to reduce his bulk. His meal was still there, a small pile of rice in a scuffed plastic container with a faint upward curl of steam. The table next to him was glistening with extravagance: streamlined bags bearing logos, plates full of food that no one was supposed to consume. Niran, a boy with hair shellacked into a glossy wave, sat back in his chair and spoke loudly enough to be heard over the commotion.

"Scholarship kids," he murmured, his words brimming with derision. "As if polishing their shoes would help them fit in. He probably stiffens that shirt every night.

The ensuing laughing was like a sharp, quick blade. Kiet's eyes remained fixed on the table as his fingers clenched around his spoon, the metal digging into his flesh. He had endured worse; he had heard worse. Their hunger was only stoked by reacting. Nevertheless, the comments weighed heavily on top of the pride he kept hidden, sinking in like stones.

Lalin's head sprang up, her eyes cutting across the throng. She was acquainted with Niran, who ruled over his own small realm and was born with the ability to be cruel. As she stood, her tray skidded across the table, drawing attention to the jagged scrape. Despite the tremble in her chest, she walked steadily across the cafeteria and paused next to Kiet's bench. Niran's smile faded as her shadow hung over him.

"Enough," she uttered in a clear, icy tone. "If you put as much effort into your essays as you do into that hair, maybe you wouldn't be begging teachers for extra credit."

The laughter died down and the air became quiet. Like a fish pulled from water, Niran's lips opened and closed as his face flushed. Lalin remained motionless, her gaze holding him until he turned his head away. Kiet looked up at her, his black eyes wide with something she couldn't quite put her finger on, perhaps shock or reluctant relief.

"You good?" she enquired, her tone losing its harshness.

Kiet gave a startled nod. "Yes. Thank you.

She smiled tightly, hardly curving, and walked back to her seat. A thread came loose, revealing something she couldn't yet see, yet the moment lingered even as the cafeteria buzzed back to life.

The music room later waited in silence, the air heavy with the smell of glue and old wood. With his violin nestled under his chin, Kiet sat on a stool. Slow, resonant, and laced with longing, the song unfolded like smoke as the bow dragged across the strings. The sounds stitched over the jagged edges of the day as his eyes drifted shut. He could breathe here.

Outside, Lalin stopped and touched the doorframe. The music caught her as she was moving through the corridors, avoiding the mirrored walls of the dance studio where her slips still echoed. She carefully opened the door just enough to peer inside as it pulled at something deep and persistent.

A shaft of late-afternoon light outlined Kiet's silhouette as he played by himself. In sharp contrast to the child who had sat rigidly beneath Niran's taunting, his movements were sure and fluid. The tension in her ribcage relaxed as the melody encircled her. The honesty of it, the way it exposed him without a word, made her stand still.

The last note trembled as the piece trailed off and disappeared. Kiet's body drooped a little as he lowered the violin, as though the music had kept him standing. Lalin shifted, intending to slide away, but her weight caused a harsh, accusing sigh from the floor.

With his bow still in hand, Kiet spun around. "Who's there?"

With a frown, she pushed the door open. "I am. I apologise; I didn't mean to seem creepy. I was drawn in by the music.

After blinking, he relaxed as the realisation hit in. "You're the one from the cafeteria."

"And the stage," she continued, her voice a little dry. "Not exactly a highlight reel."

Kiet shrugged and carefully placed the violin in its case. "Everyone freezes occasionally. It's not illegal.

"Not you, though," she shot back, cocking her head in the direction of the device. "That was… something else."

He struggled with the locks of the case as a flush rose up his neck. "Just get some practice. Nothing noteworthy.

The slight tang of rosin sharpened in Lalin's nose as she took a step closer. When it comes to dancing, I'd kill to say that. These days, it seems to become worse the harder I push.

He looked up, his eyes settling. "Perhaps your grip is too tight. That's the nature of music; you must allow it to flow through you rather than push it.

She rolled the idea about in her mind like a water-smoothed stone. "Oh. Perhaps you're right.

Like the lull before thunder, a heavy yet unstrained silence descended between them. The sound of Kiet snapping the case closed was clear in the silence. "I'd better go. If you want the room, it's yours."

She shook her head and said, "No, I'm avoiding practice today." "Maybe tomorrow."

With a glimmer of comprehension in his eyes, he nodded. Lalin spoke again as he got to the door, the words escaping his lips without permission. "Hey—I appreciate it earlier. in the dining room. You didn't need to intervene.

Kiet stopped and touched the knob. "No, I didn't. It was you who delivered the punch, figuratively speaking.

She made a tiny, genuine sound as she laughed. "In the air. However—thanks.

With a tentative smile tugging at his lips, he met her eyes and slipped into the hallway. The sound of Lalin's music faded as the door clicked shut, leaving the promise of an unspoken item lingering in the air.