For many years in his youth, Aion had thought it was normal to have problems with breathing, and that was why no one ever mentioned it. The sides of his throat were supposed to feel like they were pressed up against each other, making it hard to breathe and troublesome to swallow. Swallowing was okay when he was eating food, but if it was liquid or saliva it took such a long time to squeeze it down.

He was about ten or eleven by the time he complained about it the first time to one of his private tutors. He asked why books on anatomy never spoke about how hard it was to just breathe and exist, and the tutor looked at him like he was crazy. Told to not talk about silly things, he shrunk deeper in his seat, rubbing fingers idly against his throat.

Somehow, word got back to his parents, and they sent for their doctor to do a check-up, because as it turns out, feeling like this wasn’t normal. But when they did allergy tests, shoved a camera down his nose and into his throat, did multiple examinations, nothing was found. Finally, the doctor suggested it might be something mental.

The doctor was promptly fired. You can’t have an heir with an unstable mind.

He’d never spent much time with other kids, aside from his tiny little sister, and when he was suddenly shoved into the world of middle school private schooling, he was at a loss. The first day, when he had to introduce himself to the rest of the class as the resident transfer student, he almost started to cry, breathing becoming so difficult he almost passed out.

Before the first class was over he’d been sent to the nurse’s office.

He’d always taken piano lessons, taking weekly classes with yet another private tutor who worked both with him and Ailane. He had enjoyed it, and while he liked some of the classical pieces he learned how to play, he couldn’t put his heart into it.

Then one day when he’d decided to brave his first skipped school day, sneaking off after the driver had dropped him off at the school gates, he heard music way different to what he’d always heard at the family estate. It was loud and rough, and it made his heart skip a beat.

Hiding his uniform blazer in his bag, he tried to look less like a student who was supposed to be in class, before he peered into the store the music was coming from. A young woman who looked to be in her early twenties or so was sitting on a big black box that the music was coming out of. Her fingers moved across her instrument with ease, as if she’d done nothing but play on it her whole life.

After a few minutes, she stopped, looking up and meeting his gaze. He hadn’t even noticed that he had entered the store, yet here he was, standing only a couple of meters away from her, as if she were the pied piper and he was a rat rather than a lion. “Oh! Uh, s-sorry, I was, I didn’t mean to spy-”

“Ya wanna play, kid?”

Aion startled, hands gripping tightly around the straps of his backpack. He used to have one of the school issued shiny leather bags, but some other kids had ruined it one day. He hadn’t told his parents about it, too anxious to do so. It was fine, this one had a doodle of a dinosaur that Ailane had drawn on it when she was three.

“I, I don’t know how to…”

“‘s fine, we all gotta start from scratch.” She stood up, hand gripping the neck of the strange instrument (it kind of reminded him of a violin with its long neck) as she patted the spot where she’d been sitting for him to take her place. “Sit, kiddo, I’ll show ya how to play some chords.”

For some reason, the thought of trusting a complete stranger left his mind at the thought of the magical sounds she had made with the instrument just moments before, and he stepped over so he could sit down. He fumbled when she threw a strap over his head and put the instrument on his lap, picking up another of the things off its stand on the floor. She handed him a small plastic object, flat and almost triangle in shape. “Ya know how’ta hold a pick?”

Assuming she was talking about the plastic object, he shook his head. She demonstrated, before showing him how to hold his fingers. “Imma show you a classic one. This here’s a D4. Come on, move yer other hand along the strings like this,” she made a downward motion across her own instrument, though it didn’t make nearly as much a sound as the one currently on his lap had earlier. He noticed a cable went from his but not hers, and he realised the instrument was electrical.

Concentrating, he moved his hand down.

The sound was loud, determined in a way he had never been, and for the first time in his life the world filled with vibrant colours.

Once he got started he didn’t want to quit.

It was so different from what he was used to, he felt his heart filled by the way his hands could produce sound, and before he knew it several hours had passed. The woman frequently had to tend to other people coming into the store, but he quickly got going on his own, memorising several of the chords in no time at all. By the time he looked up his eyes were full of light, and he met the woman’s eye without hesitation.

“I’d like to buy a violin like this!”

He knew that it wasn’t actually a violin, but he had yet to learn what it was called, and it was the closest thing he knew. The woman blinked at him, and he averted his eyes again, biting his lip as he ran his fingers across the smooth surface of the instrument.

“It’s called an electric guitar. Ya’ve spent the last few hours playin’ an instrument ya’d never heard of?”

Slowly, he nodded. The woman laughed, but when Aion looked up at her it wasn’t a cruel look on her face. “I figured ya kids from that fancy school were sheltered, but that takes the cake. I’m glad ya found somethin’ ya like.” So she had figured him out after all. He flushed in embarrassment, the fluff on his tail poofing up to double its size. “C’mon, I’ll help ya pick out a good one.”

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