Riley yelped as he was grabbed by his brother. He had hoped Ryan would notice him walk out of the music room was quite disappointed to see that he just couldn't escape. "I'm not tired of it, it's rubbish. You can't practice on an instrument if you are not confortable with the piece you want to play." The first times Riley had ever given Ryan his original pieces, it had been utter shit. He was young and inexperienced, but he had asked his mother if he could have that neat class during summer one year so he would learn to write.
Reading and writing music was so different on so many levels. Over the years, he had gotten better at it and Ryan had been very helpful. He had given Riley an insight on how pianists thought. Coming up with original pieces were not the problem, but the execution was sometimes.. difficult. So Ryan would help him out, play the part and tell him what felt wrong from a pianist point of view.
"And I didn't bring any other." he said, the hand in which he was holding the parchment, fisting to crumple the sheet. His jaw clenched, clearly showing the muscles.