True Art Is Angsty
who: Kyle and Monica where: the party when: night
Kyle had never been at a party where he wasn’t exactly one of the main guests. Sure, he had been ‘invited’ along with everybody else, but he knew his position was, apparently, Adam’s squire, and he figured that definitely meant that he was there as an add on to Adam. At least, that was how he interpreted it and he had decided that he would rather be wrong in that, than act any other way on find he was wrong then. If he really was meant to be here as some kind of servant to Adam, then acting out of that role would reflect badly on the other man. The other man who was expected to go around with a sword, and who had a shield that clearly stated that someone had tried to beat the crap out of him. Kyle wasn’t taking any chances. As such, he was playing the part of the perfect servant. Bringing Adam food and drinks as necessary. Standing near the other man, but far enough away so as not to be intrusive. And, because this was Adam and Kyle didn’t trust the other man’s ability to get what was going on and actually play along - far enough away that Adam didn’t do something stupid. Like talk to him. Or try and touch him.
Monica had been lying low. This whole thing was really doing a number on her head, and now they were in Ren Faire land, and she had to go with it. What she did know was roll with it she could definitely do. She'd woken up with a new shiny violin that she was loving. It was beautiful, and the sound? Was just amazing. She was even dressed in a manner she could get behind, though she'd taken the time to dress it up herself as well, putting her own flair on it along with her traditional red and white color scheme.
When she spotted Bathtub Guy through the delightful crowd, she smiled and decided to go check on him. She waltzed on up behind him, then rattled a stick with streamers and bells on it in front of his face, reaching around him to do so. “Be merry!” Kyle jumped as there was suddenly a stick being rattled in his face and he turned, only to find himself with a face full of woman. Far too close. He took a step back - close proximity to breasts like that in a corset like that really wasn’t his thing. “Way to give a guy a heart attack,” he quipped, once he realised who was standing in front of him.
She laughed. “Sorry, you just looked...well, like you aren't having any fun,” she said. “How are you doing, sweetie? You any better? How's your pain levels? Is there anything around here for that? God, what did people do in this day and age when their parts hurt? There's got to be something, right?”
Kyle shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t think I’m crazy - though waking up… here… didn’t help that much. I’m pretty certain I’m not dreaming. I’m pretty certain that I didn’t have a psychotic break. I’m pretty certain I’m not dead.” That was as good as it got. Kyle knew that he was avoiding major things in his life, and he knew he was hiding issues, even from himself. It seemed like a good choice, though, right now. “Bruises are fading. Everything hurts less. I could do with a little less… all of this, but all in all, I think I’m doing better. As for fun, I’m not sure I’m meant to be having any,” he told her.
“You're not crazy, or if you are, you're part of a mass delusion,” she said, glancing around. Being in character helped. It really, really did. Especially now. She got his concerns, his points. But Noc, well, Noc found the bright side of things, she found things to smile about and tried to pull others into the light with her. “I'm glad you aren't hurting as bad!” she said genuinely. She'd been thinking about him since he left, still feeling bad for the guy. “I think there's some quiet places around, though, you sure you want to leave the party? Maybe it'd be good for you to go with it?”
Kyle shook his head. “I’m not leaving the party,” he told her. “I mean - that’s not my intention.” He gestured toward Adam, some way away. “I’m here for him. In case he needs me.” He rolled his eyes, knowing the truth of that. “Or in case I see he needs something. Apparently, he’s like my employer here, or something. I don’t want to fuck this up.”
Monica immediately was going to say something, face going unhappy for a second before he clarified that he was working for Adam, not just being an overly catering guy. “What's the worst that could happen? He fires you?” she asked, honestly wanting to know.
“Considering that apparently he’s some kind of knight, and he has this sword that’s like bigger than I am and a shield that Mazie had to hammer at for far longer than reasonable to get back into some kind of shape, I’m actually going to go with the idea that I piss someone off, or someone decides to take issue with the idea that he can’t keep his staff in line. Or, god forbid, is some kind of homophobic, or overly class conscious, asshole and really doesn’t like the idea of a knight sleeping with his squire and decides to take it out on Adam in some kind of sharp, pointy, potentially lethal way,” Kyle said, his eyes more on Adam, who seemed oblivious to all of Kyle’s concerns right now as he talked with a group of people.
Blinking, she took that in. “...right,” she said. She'd figured out earlier in the day that this wasn't pretend. That people weren't even just in character really hard. This was, for all intents and purposes, for her at least, it's own little planet, away from everything else, and it reflected medieval times. So, his concerns there weren't actually off. “I don't suppose he can opt out, can he?” she asked, eyeing the kinda scrawny guy. He hadn't looked like much when he'd been in hysterics over Kyle. She couldn't imagine him fighting anyone that didn't involve slapping and pulling hair.
“I’m gonna go with ‘no’ until someone gives me some hard evidence to the contrary,” Kyle told her. He sighed, shaking his head. “Anyway, the damn idiot seems to be kinda into it. The enthusiasm would be cute if it didn’t make me want to wring his damn neck.” He made frustrated noise then turned to Monica. “Actually, yeah. Getting out of here for a little while would probably be for the best.” Adam was doing okay. He didn’t need anything. Kyle would be back. It would all be fine - and things would be better if Kyle was able to get away and not lose his cool over something stupid.
“Let's go for a walk then,” she said. “Maybe I could play you something, I woke up with this...frankly, breathtaking violin. I've been learning it through the day and all but haven't actually played for anyone yet,” she said, wondering if a subject change would be good.
“Yes, let’s,” Kyle agreed, heading them toward the nearest exit. He cast his eye over the instrument she was carrying - not that he knew the first thing about violins, or any other instrument for that matter. The nearest he had gotten to any was his mother’s love of being seen at classical concerts. He had sat in front of more than one orchestra, but he had never had any real talent for music himself, much to her chagrin. “You play the violin?” he asked, sounding interested.
“Yes!” she said brightly. “I have since I was four, that's when my lessons started, though I used to play with my mom's violin when I was even younger. I even had a band and everything,” she explained. “I play other instruments as well, but the violin, that was what was closest to my heart. I'm so excited to have one here, and yeah, it's just...beautiful. I've never seen anything quite like it.”
“Then I’d be honoured to hear you play,” Kyle told her, with a little bow that would have been more befitting a court jester, but which seemed to fit here. Now that they were out of that room, he could feel the driving need to be perfect lifting, bringing out his more playful side. “Maybe this place has something we all want, or something. I… There was this blacksmith today,” he said, wishing it didn’t feel quite so much like a confession. “I got to craft something I was proud of for the first time in over a year.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, liking the sound of that. “Was there a big strong handsome blacksmith? Because I could use one of those,” she said. God, could she. She was going to have to go looking now. A blacksmith...mmm. Just the arms on someone like that... “And that's so great for you! What did you craft? Can I see?” she asked, excited by the idea.
Kyle screwed up his face. “Erm, no - he was like fifty and balding with a potbelly. I mean - muscles, yeah, because… blacksmith… but, no. Not some kind of Apollo, ripped, drooling figure of take me now or anything. Just your standard, average blacksmith. Though… if we do happen to be stuck here, I actually think…” Kyle looked shifty for a moment. “I know I’m meant to be working for Adam, and I figure with the changes from the hotel and then to here and all, we’re not going to be here forever. But, if we are - I… Think I’m going to go ask if he wants an apprentice. I mean… It’s not how I imagined my life? Shoeing horses and repairing armour? Making the odd sword or two… But… I can do that. More than I can do this.” He took a breath, looking like he had just managed to get a load off his chest with that confession. “I made a dragon. A little one. Apparently like Mushu. It was cute and not bad from a couple of scraps of metal and no real time for finesse. I gave it to Mazie - who’s Adam’s other squire. I’m sure she’d show you.”
Monica looked intensely disappointed. Maybe there was a traveling blacksmith or something she could look for. Because that would be amazing. She'd love that a lot. Then he said the part about apprenticing, and she brightened right up again. “Ooh, that would be awesome!! You should so do it!” she encouraged with a little side-hug. “You should do it anyways, don't wait to see if it's going to be forever! Pick up everything you can learn as quick as you can! You never know when skills come into play, you know,” she said. In the world of television, shit like that always came back around. Someone would learn something silly at the time, but two seasons later some writer would remember that and use it as an essential plot point. “You're going to have to point out this Mazie person, because I cannot wait to see this dragon!”
Kyle ducked his head. “I… Yesterday I would have said that I’d entirely given up that side of my life. Today… Who knows. Maybe. I don’t know. But - I’ll introduce you to Mazie, promise,” he told her.
“Well you can't give up! That's just silly! You're far too young to give up on dreams in general, and just no! Noc says no!” she added with a smile. “If you're here for two seconds and making dragons, that is in your soul! No walking away from something in your soul. It's just bad for you. But yes, you'll have to introduce me either way!”
“I think you’re exaggerating,” Kyle told her, sounding regretful. “I… wanted to be an artist. I had some training. It didn’t work out. I still enjoy it, but… I’ve accepted that it’s not my be all and end all,” he told her, though he didn’t feel that the way he had done lately. That one session with the blacksmith had brought it all back to the surface. He had failed, but right now, something in him was having a really hard time accepting that. “Anyway - this wasn’t meant to be about me. It was meant to be about your music,” he prompted.
“How old are you?” she asked. “Seriously, how old? Because I'm sure, as an artist, you know, some people don't get discovered til later in life. It doesn't mean they suck, or that it isn't for them. It means things take time. You're seriously too young to accept defeat.” She eyed him. “What if I made you a deal?”
“What kind of deal?” Kyle asked. “Though, would it actually change your mind if I told you that I actually gave up the idea of being a professional artist because the whole thing was just stressing me out far too much, rather than because I have no talent at all.” Sure, he didn’t think he was good enough, but he knew he didn’t entirely suck.
“No, it wouldn't change my mind at all. As a fellow artist, albeit a different kind, stress happens. Put it into your art. When I was stressed, I put it into my music,” she told him firmly. “And the kind of deal where if we get the hell out of this weird place, I will sponsor you for a gallery showing in New York. If you keep going with your art.”
Kyle looked at her, long and hard, trying to judge if she were serious. Nothing suggested that she wasn’t. “Thank you for the offer, but right now, I have no intentions of trying to go professional again,” he told her, politely. “No matter who tries to convince me otherwise. Or how. I’m strictly amateur. I need to learn how to enjoy it again, without that pressure.” Kyle was trying to be even and sensible about it. He had a tendency towards dramatics, but he was trying to stay away from that right now. Especially with the woman he figured thought he was at least partially unbalanced.
Monica looked at him, melancholy coming over her. “...I can't tell you how depressing it is to see someone just...give up, before they've even tried. And, I know what you'll say. Yes, you've tried, blah, blah, but you just have your whole life ahead of you. It's sad. I don't know what got in your way, or tripped you up, or how your art got too stressful, but...it's sad.”
Kyle shrugged. “Life got in the way. I got in the way. Not everyone actually succeeds and I’m gonna say it again. This wasn’t meant to be about me. It’s meant to be about your music and that kickass violin that you were so desperate to play,” he reminded her, trying again to get the conversation away from himself.
“The violin can wait a minute,” Monica said. “How did you get in your own way?” She understood life happening, and how that could get in the way. Or, she understood the concept, in her own experience, life took a back seat, and she went forth with music and acting, but that wasn't for everyone and really she wasn't sure she would even recommend it.
“You’re not going to drop this, are you?” he asked her with a sigh. He glanced back the way they had come, wondering for a moment if he could just go back to the party. Use Adam as an excuse and leave.
“I can't, it's against my entire person,” Monica said. “Just tell me that one last thing. How did you get in your own way? What happened?”
Kyle was silent for a long moment, debating leaving. In the end, he answered her. “I put everything I have into my art,” he told her. “Everything. I don’t sleep, I forget to eat. I miss deadlines and social cues and it has to be just right. I hold myself to impossibly high expectations. I forget about my friends. My family. People I love. I become… I’m not a nice person when I’m working and then even when I think I might be finished, it’s not as good as it should be.” He knew all of this. Harry had opened his eyes to all of it. Made him see that he was losing his life, his heart, his very soul to something that didn’t even make the grade. At least, that was what his ex had taught him to believe, and believe it Kyle did.
She took that in, but didn't seem fazed by it. “You sound like a lot of artists I know,” she said. “I get what you're saying, but things can be moderated, or you need friends and loved ones who understand when you're working you're working. Art isn't the same thing as some nine to five. It's messy, it's upsetting, it's exhilarating, it's beautiful, it's ugly, it's bloody. It's art. If it was easy everyone would do it.”
It was all of those things and as she described what art was, Kyle could feel the corners of his mouth turn up in familiar recognition. He looked away so she couldn’t see his face. “Everyone has to make a choice in life. This was mine. Now - are you going to play? Because I need to get back to the party. Adam might need something.”
“Yours is wrong,” she told him, voice soft. “And yes, I'm going to play,” she said. With that, she shut up, and brought the violin up to her chin, drawing in a breath before she started to play. She'd been going to play something really upbeat and happy, before, but she'd changed tracks considering their conversation. Instead, she went for a piece she'd done for the show, something she'd often done even if most people didn't know she composed background music for it. It was one she'd always loved, though, slow, full of longing, but hope. Or, that's what she'd been going for, at any rate.
Kyle leaned back against the wall, listening. He didn’t recognise the tune, only that it was beautiful and it seemed to wrap around his heart and make his legs feel like they couldn’t hold him up. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, bringing a hand to cover his face. As the tune took him, he inhaled deeply and audibly, holding back a sob. Everything felt raw, so much more so because of their previous conversation. He had been irritated by her persistence. By everyone’s persistence. Their claims that he should be something that he had walked away from on the basis of - at most - a scribbled sketch Sometimes not even that. They had no idea, yet clearly she had touched more of a nerve than most. Gotten to him somehow, because he could almost see it now. See what he could have been. See what he could still be if he would only believe in himself. See what he had almost walked away from. His dreams were still there, he just had to reach for them and grasp them with both hands.
Monica got lost in the song herself. It was something she knew by heart, a piece she played when she was alone a lot. Though really, she remembered how her songs went easily. This one she'd always particularly loved, however. She was so into it, it was like everything dropped away, the sounds from the party, the sky above, the ground beneath her feet, even Kyle, who this was for, grew distant. It was just her, and the song, and then it was just the song. It was like she melted into it, where she wasn't there as a physical presence anymore, she was part of that music, and she could do nothing but flow along with it to it's conclusion.
It was a song that took about five minutes, and when she drew her bow from the strings, she blinked, feeling a little fuzzy and drained, as she looked around. It was a very slow coming back to herself, almost like a headrush, but not.
By the time the tune had stopped, Kyle was slumped to the floor, his knees pulled up against his chest, his head buried in his knees. He was crying. Quiet, almost silent sobs. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He wanted. He wanted so badly. He had always wanted. But he didn’t know what to do when the thing he wanted was something he knew was so entirely destructive. And the people he knew were so supportive now, but he had known them for only days. They didn’t know how it got. How he got. His dreams were right there, and he was too afraid to take them. He couldn’t do it and the knowledge was threatening to break him more than anything else.
As the music stopped, Kyle felt some of that utter, undeniable emotion lifting. He sniffled and lifted his head, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, speaking past the lump in his throat. “That was… That was amazing.”
She blinked down at Kyle, then dropped down next to him to hug him, pulling him in like a little boy to snuggle, rubbing his back a little. She didn't know that she'd ever seen a reaction like that before, and was shocked by it, but first and foremost, she needed to give that boy a hug because good lord, he looked like he needed one. “Don't be sorry, it's okay,” she told him, voice light and as soothing as she could be.
He felt like he was holding on by a thread. No wonder his emotions were so close to the surface right now. Every day seemed to bring something new he had to deal with. He had always been emotionally charged, this was just that. Still, when she held him, Kyle melted into her, burrowing his head in her shoulder and hugging her like a long lost teddy bear. He didn’t even try to say anything.
Monica was happy to just hold him. She rocked him back and forth just a little bit, and was as comforting as she could be. She hummed softly to him, a little lullaby she'd written back when she'd been younger than him. He seemed to need this, and she could provide the hell out of it.
He took the time, but eventually pulled back, feeling on rather more of an even keel again. That had just been weird, and kind of traumatic. “Sorry,” he told her, smoothing his hair back from his face and trying to pat it back into some kind of order. “I don’t know what came over me there. I just… Sorry. I - how much of a wreck do I look right now?” he asked, his eyes bloodshot from crying.
Monica tried to help him get himself together, reaching up to help get the tears off of his cheeks. She had a handkerchief somewhere... Finding it, she handed it over. “Well, you look like you've been crying. Your eyes are all red. If you don't want to answer questions, stick to low light for a bit, I recommend. Or go lie down, sweetie. Whatever you want to do.”
Kyle took the handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “I can’t go and lie down. I need to be there for Adam,” he told her. Sure, he knew that Adam was a big boy and perfectly capable of looking after himself, plus he also had Mazie, but Kyle had promised himself that he would be there for Adam and he wouldn’t - couldn’t fail at that. He would never forgive himself if anything happened because he wasn’t up to the task he had been given. “But… He can’t know I’m upset. He can’t. It’d… It’d be a disaster.” Kyle could see it now - Adam would just drop everything to find out what was wrong. There’d probably be a big scene and… no.
Concern was already present with her of course, but it shot up again. “...why is that?” she asked, thinking again of the state Kyle had been in when she'd first met him. And maybe Adam wasn't Harry, but maybe he was just a new Harry.
Kyle quirked a smile. “Because he’s meant to be a knight - and I’m pretty sure that knights don’t have a melt down over the fact their squires appear to be even a little bit upset.” He rolled his eyes fondly. “There’d be flailing. Probably spillage of wine. Definite over asking of questions.” Kyle considered it further. “Probably a lot of catering. In short - pretty much everything I’m trying to avoid happening tonight. It’s okay - I’ll just make sure I’m out of his line of sight for a while. I figure that after a while I can just blame woodsmoke or something if he sees me.”
Well, that sounded better than what she'd been imagining, but she also thought she might have to keep an eye on Kyle herself from afar tonight. She smiled for him, though. “Okay,” she said, giving him a smooch on the forehead. She thought she might keep an eye on Adam as well, and if she spotted him going toward Kyle too soon, she'd go introduce herself, buy Kyle more time.
He took a moment longer, then took a breath pushing up from the wall. “I should get back,” he told her, offering her his hand. “Maybe someday we’ll get to meet at some point where I don’t turn into an emotional wreck. Wouldn’t hold your breath though. My breakdowns are legendary.”
She took the help up, and winked. “Well, it wouldn't be my first rodeo,” she teased. “But I look forward to it anyhow,” she added. She gathered her stuff, and nodded to him. “Til we meet again,” she said.
He laughed a little. “Until then, fair lady,” he said, with a little courtly bow. Hell, if they were going to be in some kind of ren fair, then he was going to got with the theatricality of it. He had to find his fun somewhere. “Enjoy yourself,” he said, before turning and heading back to the party.