Bang the Doldrums

Awaken the Algognia may not have very many strengths, and song writing probably didn't fit into the "strengths" category. Xavior was sitting in a chair in the music room, bass in his lap and keyboard within reach. He had a quill in one hand and parchment in the other, and the floor strewn with rumpled pages and broken nibs. His fingers ached but there was still so much work to do. Not a single decent song was written and the best he had come up with consisted of lyrics like: "my heart is hard like a dragon's skin/ kiss away the pain again" (cliche, whiny, just plain no.), or "songs are hard/ but that's not all" (a joke. Mostly.) It just seemed the words weren't flowing. Instead of focusing on the words he turned to the keyboard, trying to get a beat, a key, a single note he liked, anything. When he failed to do even that, he sighed loudly and turned his chair towards his writing partner. "Got anything. Anything decent, that is?"

They have seemed to have reached a major writers block in their song writing career, if Osmund could even call it that. Though his and Xavior's band had grown in talent since the first few practices where they were both still learning the strings of their instruments, they had yet to really achieve anything.

Osmund had been sitting on a stool, facing away from Xavior and plucking the strings of his acoustic guitar gently, singing words quietly beneath his breath as Xavior filddled with the keys on the piano. He hadn't been paying much attention until the sounds stopped and the boy turned to face him. Osmund craned his neck to sort of look at Xavior without moving position and offered a shrug when the boy asked for something, anything, good.

Letting out a sigh, Osmund figured now would be time to show some of his own lyrics. "I guess I've for some stuff," he replied with a shrug. He spun around on he stool and faced his feet towards the long haired brunette. He strummed the guitar softly and kept his eyes down as he sung. "Listening to your heart beating, all my defenses retreating, have I gone mad? Or have I found my savior?" He stopped there, feeling the colors coming to his pale cheeks. He couldn't make himself say the single line name that came next.

"Oh wow, um, is there more? I mean, it's beautiful, but you seem..." Xavior bit his lip. He wondered if, hoped, the pretty words were about him. He knew hope was a foolish thing, but that didn't stop it from welling in his chest. He reached out to stroke the color on Osmund's cheeks, soothing the blush. "Don't be embarrassed. They really are beautiful." His voice was low and his fingers skimmed along the keys absently, not pressing down enough to make a noise but wanting something to do with his hands. He felt like the air had gotten thicker and the room smaller, harder to breathe in the shrinking space.

It was horrid. His lyrics were stupid and petty and Osmund couldn't believe that he had actually just shown them to Xavior. It had been one thing to write them down in the first place, but to have actually acknowledged their existence, to have actually strummed the chords and taken the leap of faith and presented them to the person whom he had written them about, was completely bogus and Osmund must've been out of his mind when he made that decision. He sat, immobilized, unable to continue the song. He was regretting it majorly and when he heard Xavior draw in the breath that would in return give word to his thoughts on the song, Osmund's heart skipped a beat.

A hand dragged across his cheeks, which only led to further color changing and Osmund's eyes shutting in shame. What a fool was he. "You don't need to lie," Osmund replied, his voice sounding rough and shaky, for his heart was hammering in his chest. "The lyrics are so...so..." He hated them because they made him seem human for feeling such things. He was baring his heart for the world to see and was afraid what the world would do to it. He had gotten himself into this mess, however, and with no escape route, Osmund knew he had to take the plunge, rather than cling to the unstable edge of the cliff. He heaved a sigh, "Well, they're not as beautiful as you," he quipped, unable to make eye contact with Xavior.

Xavior had opened his mouth to deny Osmund's claims of shitty lyrics, but at his compliment he sucked in a sharp breath, too loud and quick. He didn't know how to react, especially coupling that with the lyrics. "Oz, I..." With a gulp he decided to go for it, and considering he was never one to hide his feelings, his hesitation was odd even to him. "You're the beautiful one." He said quietly, tapping his fingers and fidgeting. This was uncharted territory, more than practice kisses, this was, at least somewhat, real, and he wasn't sure what to do. "Really, really beautiful." He said, heart somewhere in his stomach.

Osmund scoffed and repositioned his fingers on his guitar. "I told you you don't need to lie to me," he commented, not looking at Xavior. His heart was pounding a drum solo on his rib cage. He wasn't sure what Xaviors words meant or whether or not Xavior fully understood what he was saying. It didn't help that Osmund had little experience with actually confessing feelings to someone, whereas he had an ample amount of practice with kissing someone.

"You're so beautiful inside and out and I'm so..." Osmund made a face, absentmindedly plucking some strings in no particular pattern. He just felt more comfortable with a guitar in his hands. "I wish I could show you how much it means to me that you put up with me all the time. You're too good for me, but as much as I want to see you loved by someone who can give you the care you need, I can't stand seeing you in someone else's arms." Osmund confessed. He then strummed a wrong chord and let his hand drop useless to his own lap. "I'm really quite selfish like that."

"I never lie to you. You are beautiful. Sharp and beautiful, inside and out." Xavior said, meaning every word. He couldn't believe Osmund thought he simply "put up" with him, but let that comment slide at the next words out of his friend's mouth. "Oz... do you mean...?" Xavior trailed off, hoping his meaning came through in his not-so-eloquent sentence. His heart felt like it was trying to escape through his chest, or at least putting on a good act of a prison break. He put his index finger's nail in his mouth, chewing nervously. If Osmund meant what Xavior thought he meant... Xavior's heart sped up even further at thw thought

Osmund let his long dark hair fall across his reddened face as he stumbled for words. He couldn't believe what he was doing. How the simple decision to show xavior some of the lyrics that he wrote and never told a soul and was now suddenly explaining his feelings for Xavior. It felt weird, like he would be changed forever, but Osmund was confident that Xavior's response to everything he had said thus far meant that he was okay with Osmunds feelings. That maybe Xavior wanted him to say what he had to say next.

"You're my savior. I need you so selfishly..." Osmund was staring at the strings on his guitar. "Merlin's beard," Osmund gasped, he doubted he was even breathing correctly at this point. "I want you to not just be my friend. I want you to not just be my practicing kissing partner. Xavior...." Osmund paused and then looked up at Xavior, at his warm brown eyes. "I want you."

"Merlin, yes. Please." Xavior's words rushed out breathlessly, but he still couldn't seem to get them out fast enough. He couldn't believe that Oz wanted this, wanted him, after so many years of just-practice and unreciprocated feelings. At least, he was sure that's what Oz had wanted, before. Just using him until someone else came along, but he knew that the other boy cared about him, and that this was just a matter of time. And wow, did he want this too. He stared back into Osmund's eyes and yeah, he really, really did want this. "You mean, you want to go out with me?" And Merlin, he made it sound so stupid and childish, but he was stupid and childish with a crush on his best friend.

Osmund nodded dumbly. Who cared what his father would think? What he didn't know couldn't hurt him, right? Osmund couldn't believe that the fear that his father would disapprove had kept him so long for admitting something that was so clear to him now; he wanted to be able to call Xavior his boyfriend.

His hands slide out from the guitar and reached for and gathered Xavior's hands, holding them in his own and rubbed his thumb gently against the back of one. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Xavior's mouth. "I'd like that very much," He admitted, then sighed. "Don't tell anyone anything I said just now," He asked of him. "That was only meant for your ears." And honestly he didn't need the whole school to know that Montagnard's infamously intimidating and angsty team captain was a complete softie when it came to a relationship.