Hazel's fingers were still not very agile, as if they couldn't exert enough force on the strings' tips. Her little finger, in particular, often slipped off, causing the melody to deviate from the planned score. Yet, she showed no signs of irritation. With single-minded dedication, she practiced as if preparing for a world-class musical performance.
The midday sun cast a glaring light that seared down, soft and warm, draping over her shoulders. Her awkward and stiff fingers, however, emitted a faint gleam. In this moment, she seemed untouched by the lingering illness or the blows of fate. A vibrant vitality radiated from her, holding one's gaze captive.
Fragments of a fragmented melody intermittently reached the ears. Hazel attempted to hum along with the musical notes, yet the disjointed melody led her voice astray. "So we come, to a place of no return...," her voice, youthful and tender, carried a crispness and vigor akin to a fledgling bird's first cry. The sorrow woven between the musical notes slowly filled the air. "Yours is the face, that makes my body burn. And here is the name that our sons will learn..."
The song was only sung halfway before it faltered again. Nevertheless, Hazel persisted. Adjusting her posture, she continued to play, "Curse the beauty, curse the queen."
It was "Monster".
It was the "Monster" he had composed during his time at the Sinai Mountain Hospital. However, what truly astonished Renly was that Hazel, after just hearing him play it once, could now recreate and play it again from memory. This was a talent – an inherent gift for musical sensibility and theory, enabling her to identify melodies naturally.
This was the first time Renly glimpsed another side of Hazel – a side he didn't expect but found delight in.
With only half the song played, Hazel's fingers were already sore to the point of rebellion. They began to disobey her, and she shook her hands forcefully, attempting to regain control. A hint of annoyance and frustration creased her brow.
Renly could discern the struggle in that restlessness – the desire to try harder yet the inability to do so, the wish to resist, but met with silence, the urge to fight on, yet feeling powerless.
Such profound helplessness ignited anger, an impulse to shatter the entire world, yet it was even more exasperating, for one was utterly helpless. In Hazel, Renly saw himself – a past self that yearned desperately to break free from the confines of a sickbed but ultimately perished beneath that expanse of white. Slowly, mercilessly.
Hazel seemed to catch Renly's gaze. She lifted her head, and their eyes met through the glass.
Unflustered, untouched by anger or shyness, she was merely surprised. The flicker in her eyes quickly subsided into composure. She gazed at Renly quietly. Her calm gaze, mature and icy beyond her years, almost belied the fact that she was only fifteen.
The agony and torment of illness had exposed her to a world-weary maturity that fifteen years shouldn't bear.
Facing Hazel's gaze, Renly offered a smile and calmly returned her look. Not a hint of unease betrayed the fact that his earlier act of "observing" had been detected. He acted as if it were all perfectly natural. Then, Renly took a step forward, circumvented the glass wall, and entered the entertainment room. In a voice as commonplace as ever, he inquired, "Learning the guitar?"
Renly's composure also influenced Hazel. She hesitated briefly, then nodded and responded in an understated tone, "Yes. Although I'm not much of a player, more of a singer. I'm using the guitar mainly for rehabilitation."
"I can tell you're an excellent singer," Renly shrugged, "or perhaps I should say, you have the potential to be an excellent singer."
Seating himself diagonally across from Hazel, Renly extended his right hand and placed it flat before her. "I never knew you enjoyed singing."
After a moment's hesitation, Hazel attempted to place the guitar into Renly's palm. However, the instrument's weight proved too much for her wrist, prompting Renly to take it from her. "My biggest dream is to participate in "American Idol"," she declared. Then, with a note of anxiety, she hastened to add, "Don't laugh at me!"
Renly couldn't help but smile, a gentle upward curl gracing his lips before he regained his composure. "Maybe you can try next year. The minimum age requirement for 'American Idol' is sixteen."
Hazel's smile carried a touch of bitterness. She considered offering a retort but abandoned the thought. Explanation wasn't necessary, was it?
Renly's gaze settled on Hazel. He sensed the negativity within her, the lowering of her eyes to veil her tangled emotions. He plucked the strings, creating a tune that he used to convey advice. "You should use the pads of your fingers and maintain a ninety-degree bend at the first joint. That way, you'll achieve the best suppression with minimal effort." Renly's instruction resembled teaching an ordinary person, as if he hadn't even noticed Hazel's ailment.
Hazel absorbed the lesson earnestly. Her slender fingers lightly traced the musical notes, creating an enchanting aesthetic. The familiar melody flowed out gently. It was all truly magical. A few simple notes strung together in a special way could transform into a poignant melody, awakening resonances deep within the heart.
Renly raised his head and signaled Hazel. She hesitated, missing the first four beats. Yet, she quickly regained her composure, calmly and softly singing, "…Thowin' dice in the dark. I saw you late, last night, come to harm. I saw you dance in the devil's arms."
Initially, Hazel's voice tightened, causing her to miss two consecutive beats. But she swiftly composed herself, closed her eyes, and dedicated herself to listening to the guitar's strings. It was as if she melded with the melody, the surging emotions washing over her. The world momentarily quieted, leaving only her standing on its pinnacle, singing with all her might.
[
So when you're weak
When you are on your knees
I'll do my best, with the time, that's left
Sworn with your spirit, you're fully fleshed
]
The same song, yet Hazel and Renly's renditions were starkly different. In Renly's performance, wistfulness carried a hint of loss, a faint melancholy lurking beneath. On the other hand, Hazel's interpretation infused a distinct flavor. The sharp pain seemed to pierce like a chisel, gradually penetrating her heart. The ache rippled gently like water's ripples. Her muscles tensed to the extreme, yet no sound escaped, her teeth clenched in perseverance. It was as though a little more endurance would lead her to the other side, but… the horizon remained elusive.
[
So f*ck your dreams
And don't you pick at our seams
I'll turn into a monster for you, If you pay me enough
None of this counts, a few dreams, plowed up
]
As Hazel sang these lyrics, the despairing sadness transformed into tears that caught her off guard. However, she didn't wipe them away. She sang out loud, pouring her heart into the song. Her voice quivered slightly, her pitch a bit off. Yet the pure emotion was utterly released, tugging at Renly's heartstrings with a pang of sourness.
Before him, Hazel resembled an injured beast. She longed for freedom, chased her dreams. Yet her scar-covered body weighed her down, her steps faltering, stumbling until the end, leaving a trail of fiery-hot blood. As if the mountains were blanketed in rhododendrons.
When the song came to an end, Hazel sat quietly in place. Once more, the tears surged, yet she stubbornly bit her lip, refusing to let them flow. Only this way, the tears wouldn't fall again, and her inner fragility would remain concealed.
Renly's fingertips rested upon the strings. Faintly, he felt the coarse texture against his skin. Inside, a deep sense of grief prevailed. He understood Hazel's emotions better than anyone else. Trapped within her body, her soul was shackled, imprisoned, unable to find an exit, devoid of hope.
"Do you know? I envy you, I really envy you," Hazel's voice trembled gently. Her fists clenched, unwavering. It was as if she loosened them even a bit, she'd crumble entirely. "I envy your freedom to move, your ability to chase your dreams, your liberty to sing with abandon. I envy your capacity to stand on stage, to infuse emotions into melodies with your soul, to let others touch your vulnerability without being hurt…" Her voice gradually faded, a blend of dejection and anger weighing heavily. Her shoulders slumped.
Renly's eyes grew slightly warm. He looked down, overcome by a sense of déjà vu. Unexpectedly, it struck him.
For a moment, the entertainment room lapsed into silence. A faint melancholy and sorrow flowed through the air.
Hazel lifted her head slowly, gazing at the figure before her, her emotions a mixture of complexity.
Dreams were a distant luxury for her. Reality clamped down on her throat. Even survival had become an issue. She lacked both time and space to ponder more. Dreams were a luxury, and what about Renly? He was fervently pursuing his acting dream, his musical talent merely an interest. He was so carefree, so flamboyant, so indulgent, so… free.
"Sometimes, I really hate you," Hazel spoke up, breaking the brief silence. But after saying that, she couldn't help but burst into laughter, provoking a light chuckle from Renly as well. He spread his hands, an expression of helpless resignation. "Geniuses always provoke envy." This self-assured remark earned him an eye-roll from Hazel, expressing her intense dissatisfaction.
The smile slowly faded from the corners of his lips. Renly spoke earnestly, "If you're willing, I can accompany you to "American Idol" next year. You know, I can broaden my horizons and maybe even cross paths with Simon Cowell…"
Before Renly could finish, Hazel burst into laughter, imagining a confrontation between Simon and Renly. She laughed joyfully, "I think Simon won't be able to outwit you. He might resort to being obstinate."