surfacage | trick or treat

"I'll have a red one, then." He took it, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth. It had a good amount of spice, and he liked that. "It's been quite a while since I've had candy. Thank you, Jack." He looked back to his sheet music, then, seeking comfort in the notes.

The poison, thankfully, should take effect in an hour or so, in order to avoid suspicion. Maybe he'd blame it on some - autumn bug or something.

In the meanwhile, Jack trotted back to the far side of the piano again, closing his eyes. "May I stay? I want - to hear you play again, even if just for a little while."

"Of course," he managed a small smile, and began to play a melody (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5PV8YfwdmE) he had written while here in the mansion. Like Lacie, it had a simple melody that held an elegant sound and subtle joy.

Any hate for Lacie, he found, had faded into a dull pain some months ago. It was hard to realise that he couldn't blame a dead woman for the way his relationship with his Glen turned out to be, especially after she herself extended her friendship in the mansion.

Jack continued to listen, then, smiling back, not really speaking in fear of breaking Glen's concentration.

Glen finished the song, and waited a moment before turning on the piano bench to face him. With his own Jack, who now seemed so far away, he would always here a critique at the end of a new song. Oftentimes Jack would stand over his shoulder and point out places in the song where the tempo should pick up, or where the notes should be softer. He wondered if this Jack, this wicked Jack, had at all a similar experience.

"Between the second and third movements, you should try a higher note," he murmured, quietly, nowhere as near as confident as Glen's Jack would probably be.

But he'd done the same thing - but only upon Glen's prompting; he usually never spoke unless addressed.

Glen played the second movement, beginning the third with a higher note, "I like that very much." He smiled as he dipped the pen in ink and made the correction to the music.

"I was not sure about this segment," he played a part of the song towards the last measure and stopped, again waiting to hear Jack's comments.

Jack didn't need to see the notes, there, either; he was smiling from Glen's approval, eyes still closed.

"Use a lower chord on the third beat?" He offered hesitantly.

Glen tried a lower chord. Too low. He tried another, and it did give a subtle contrast that left the piece with a bit more variation.

"Thank you, now, was there anything else?" If not, he would play the song again, this time with the changes made.

It really did help to have another ear. He had heard the song so many times, he no longer heard what could be done to improve it.

Jack set down the bowl on the piano and came closer, before reaching out and pulling the corners of Glen's mouth upwards.

"That," he said, simply, before suddenly stepping back and colouring, almost as if realising what he had just done.

Glen looked up, a little startled. He had expected nothing like that from this Jack, especially given that he had been so timid the last they met, and he wasn't sure what to do with it. It would be in bad form to protest, as it was obviously meant without harm, so Glen complied, sharing with Jack small smile. They had been through a lot together, and truly had no reason to be as awkward as they were now, but Glen could never place this Jack. One minute he would do something so like the blonde he loved, but he would be harming someone the next.

His smile turned mischievous, "Are you not feeling well? Your face is red. Have you a fever?"

I just have a really horrid case of you.

Jack's psyche, thankfully, prevented him from saying that out loud, and he shook his head in reply instead, pressing his hands over his cheeks.

Why did he do that? Good lord.

"I - I'm all right," he stammered, backing away to his original, safe position.

"If you say so," the smile was unwavering. He almost wished to dismiss himself. It served him nothing to continually end up giving affections to loved ones only to have them disappear days later. It was tiring, and was doing nothing for his heart, which truly, was not so strong that he could live alone.

Glen turned back to the piano and re-played the piece, this time with the changes.

Jack listened all throughout as well, this time, silently, smiling to himself. He'd always loved to hear Glen playing, because he was so good at it, because it could express things that words couldn't say.

When he was done, though, Jack abruptly straightened up and looked over his shoulder, walking towards the door. "...wait. Don't talk. Let me get you a glass of water first."

Glen was about to speak up, but it was too late, Jack was gone.

How strange.

Jack needed time to calm himself down, he had to admit; being actually himself around Glen was exhausting, even if he didn't have to watch his every move. He just feared that he would disapprove, or push him away, or threaten him again.

He comes back about fifteen minutes later, with two glasses of water in hand, actually hoping that the poison would have miraculously already taken effect. "Sorry I took so long."

"Thank you." Glen took the water graciously, his mouth feeling quite like it was stuffed with cotton.

He said nothing else. Glen was not a man of many words, even in the presence of his best friend, but especially in the presence of this particular Jack.

"You were quite the mess when you first arrived here." His face was expressionless and his tone even. He did not want Jack to draw conclusions.

Jack kept the piano between them, unwrapping another piece of candy and popping it into his mouth.

"Do you think I still am?"

"I can not be too sure. You have deceived me once before." He was still blank, but if Jack knew him wall enough, he was laughing on the inside.

Jack actually did, and he chucked a piece of candy right at Glen's face.

"Glad to keep you on your toes, then."

Glen easily dodged the candy a smile finally coloring his face. He stood up from the piano bench and gestured for Jack to have a seat, " I do believe it is your turn to entertain, then."

Jack flinched when Glen stood up, instinctively taking a step back before remembering himself, and nodding silently, looking at his feet.

He set the bowl down and sat where directed, holding his hands close to his chest; they were shaking.

"What would you like me to play?"

"Anything is fine." Glen sat down in a chair on the left side of the piano, appearing completely casual and relaxed. He had finished his water but for some reason his mouth still felt stuffed with cotton.

Jack stole a look at Glen out of the corner of his eye, watching for any signs of the toxin taking effect.

He knows this piece (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klZYv-f9kCE&feature=related) by heart, and he starts playing it.

The piece was well played, but by the end of it, there was only hacking for applause. Glen gripped his chest, sweating it out a little, covering his mouth with his other hand, but it would not stop. Once he was quite through, his bangs were sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face, and his cheeks had a rosy color. The last thing he saw was Jack, before his eyes slid shut, his body shutting down to fight off the poisons within him.

Perhaps the poison had worked a little too well. So much for subtlety.

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baack

wb

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