Chapter Text
Chapter 1
— The final note was off.
The words came calmly.
Precisely.
Without hesitation.
Basil sat at the edge of the bed with his hands neatly folded over his lap while watching Kel standing in the middle of the room.
The afternoon light slipped through the curtains in thin golden lines, illuminating the dust floating lazily through the air. The bedroom smelled faintly of medicine, old fabric softener, and the strawberry lip balm Kel used too often.
Kel immediately lowered his head.
His shoulders curled inward almost instinctively.
— Sorry…
His voice came out small.
Embarrassed.
Basil observed the reaction carefully.
Interesting.
Kel always reacted physically before verbally. His body revealed emotions several seconds before his mouth did.
Tension in the shoulders.
Avoidance of eye contact.
Weight shifting toward the weaker leg.
Hands pulling nervously at the sleeves of his oversized hoodie.
Clear signs of insecurity.
Basil tilted his head slightly.
— But you improved a lot compared to before.
Immediate response.
Kel lifted his head so quickly it almost looked painful.
His expression softened instantly, like a dog receiving affection after expecting punishment.
— Really?
— Yes.
Basil kept his tone neutral.
— Your breathing control lasted longer this time. And your transitions between notes were considerably cleaner.
Kel smiled.
And there it was again.
That warmth.
Basil had noticed it months ago: praise changed Kel physically.
His posture relaxed.
His eyes brightened.
Even his voice seemed lighter afterward.
It was fascinating.
— Thank you…
Kel rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before sitting carefully beside Basil on the bed.
The mattress dipped slightly beneath his weight.
Or what remained of it.
Kel had lost too much weight after the accident.
His body still looked fragile in certain ways.
Too narrow.
Too delicate.
Basil’s gaze drifted briefly toward the faint scars visible near his collarbone where the hoodie slipped slightly.
Kel noticed.
Immediately pulling the fabric back into place.
Interesting.
Avoidance behavior related to physical vulnerability remained consistent.
— I still don’t think I’m ready for the contest.
Kel’s voice pulled Basil away from his thoughts.
— You still have months left.
— Yeah, but…
Kel laughed nervously.
— This is kinda my only chance, you know?
He looked down at his own hands.
— If I win… maybe I can actually do something with music.
The room fell quiet for a few seconds.
Basil observed him carefully.
Kel always became more expressive when talking about singing.
Not necessarily confident.
Just… alive.
The emotional response was visibly stronger.
Heart rate subtly elevated.
More movement in the hands.
Less stiffness in posture.
Interesting.
— You’ll do well.
Kel looked at him again.
Too quickly.
Too hopefully.
Basil wondered briefly if Kel understood how much emotional weight he placed on simple approval.
Probably not.
Kel smiled softly.
— You really think so?
— Statistically speaking, you’ve improved faster than most beginners.
Kel laughed quietly.
— You always make everything sound scientific.
Because it was.
Human behavior followed patterns.
Emotional attachment followed patterns.
Even insecurity followed patterns.
Kel especially did.
Basil had learned most of them already.
— Do you want something to eat?
Kel suddenly asked.
Basil thought for a moment.
— Sure.
The reaction was immediate.
Kel stood up too fast.
Nearly tripped against the edge of the desk.
Caught himself awkwardly.
Then laughed nervously like always.
Basil watched silently.
Poor motor coordination remained consistent.
Interesting.
— I’ll be right back.
Kel practically rushed out of the room afterward.
Basil listened quietly to the sound of hurried footsteps descending the stairs.
Then silence.
A few seconds later, voices.
Muffled at first.
Then louder.
Kel’s mother.
Basil couldn’t make out every word immediately, but the tone alone already carried enough tension to understand the conversation.
— …singing won’t pay your bills, Kel.
Silence.
Then Kel’s voice.
Smaller.
Defensive.
— I know, but—
— No, you don’t know.
The sharpness in her voice echoed faintly upstairs.
— You should focus on your studies instead of chasing impossible dreams.
Basil lowered his eyes slightly.
Interesting.
Kel’s breathing patterns during arguments were noticeably different from normal anxiety.
More irregular.
Less controlled.
Like panic trying to disguise itself as obedience.
Another voice downstairs.
Quieter this time.
Probably Kel apologizing.
Again.
Basil stared at the floor for a few seconds before standing up.
He walked toward the bedroom door.
Then stopped.
No.
Listening further would be invasive.
Even for him.
So instead, Basil quietly returned to sit on the bed again.
Several minutes passed before hurried footsteps climbed the stairs once more.
Then—
THUD.
A soft collision against the doorframe.
Basil blinked once.
Right.
Kel stumbled inside the room rubbing his shoulder awkwardly.
— Sorry…
His cheeks already looked slightly pink from embarrassment.
Basil tilted his head.
— Where’s the food?
Kel froze.
Immediately.
The expression crossed his face so quickly it almost looked painful.
— I… forgot.
He looked genuinely distressed saying it.
Interesting.
Basil observed the way Kel’s fingers tightened around the fabric of his hoodie.
Shame response.
Strong.
— You’re really unfocused sometimes.
Kel visibly shrank.
The reaction was immediate enough to make Basil’s chest tighten slightly.
Not guilt.
Something adjacent to it.
Kel lowered his head again.
— Sorry…
Basil thought carefully for a few seconds.
Balance was important.
Too much criticism produced withdrawal behavior.
Positive reinforcement afterward stabilized emotional attachment more effectively.
So he spoke again.
— But your voice is still beautiful.
Kel looked up instantly.
— Hm?
— Your coordination is terrible sometimes.
Basil’s tone remained calm. Analytical.
— But your voice is perfect for music.
Silence.
Kel stared at him.
Wide-eyed.
Like someone starving being handed warmth for the first time in weeks.
Interesting.
Then, quietly:
— Do you think I’m useless?
The question lingered in the room much longer than it should have.
Basil studied him carefully.
Kel looked fragile like this.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like one harsh sentence could permanently alter the shape of him.
Basil stood up slowly before stepping closer.
Then wrapped his arms around Kel carefully.
Kel tensed immediately.
Then melted into the contact almost all at once.
Interesting.
— It doesn’t matter.
Basil’s voice came softly near his ear.
— I’ll take care of you no matter how defective you are.
Kel made a small sound in the back of his throat.
Not quite crying.
Not quite relief.
His hands slowly gripped the back of Basil’s shirt.
And after several seconds, Basil felt something warm dampening the fabric near his shoulder.
Tears.
Small ones.
Quiet ones.
Basil closed his eyes briefly.
Interesting.
Even now, Kel still trusted him completely.