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Lyni's Story: Through the Rift and Back (another one-shot)

by Shiny Pyxis

Shiny Pyxis With her connection to the CRP world temporarily disconnected, Lyn finds herself in a setting she never thought she would go back to, and has a conversation with the closest thing to a father figure she had. The two reunite, if only for a brief moment, before Lyn has to return to the world where her friends are.
After all, he would make a lovely prince…

Lyn groaned as she tossed and turned in her covers. It had been a long week for her, but she just couldn’t sleep despite the comfort of her pillows, stuffed animals, and blankets. Nightmares of her brother slowly turning into a sinister black-haired woman haunted her mind, and just when she would think that she had a nice, normal dream of stargazing, the same lady would appear as a shadow and quietly remind her to fulfill her end of their agreement. It was revolting how easily she had given in to the temptation, but no matter how she looked at the situation, the girl always found herself giving the same answer. So that’s the kind of person she was, huh?

A small creaking sound made Lyn jump, making the girl shoot up into an alert, sitting position as she saw someone walk in. At first, she thought it might have been her brother, though he rarely if ever visited her room. However, a quick glance at the person’s black hair and green eyes were enough to tell her otherwise. Confused, she looked around the room, scanning in all the contents. A bookshelf, a laptop, several notebooks, pens, pencils, papers… Then her eyes landed on the keyboard in the corner of the room, and suddenly everything clicked.

“How long…?”

“Six and a half hours,” the person replied as he placed a bowl of what smelled like chicken broth on the nightstand. He looked at the girl and said, “Though perhaps seven years is the better answer, huh?”

Lyn bit her lower lip as she turned to look at the man again. Yes, though it had been as long as he said, many of his facial features hadn’t changed. The angular jawline, his boyish expressions… though he looked older, it definitely didn’t look like seven years had gone by on him. At most, he looked like someone who had just reached adulthood, even though the last time she saw him, he definitely looked high-school age.

“Jasper,” she said, “it’s been a while.” She didn’t get an immediate reply, though, as he had gotten up and was walking around the room towards the bookshelf. As he began rearranging the books, she continued, “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

Jasper nodded in response. “Well, you did just suddenly run away all those years ago. I never really thought you were going to come back, especially not passed out in my backyard.

Going a little red from embarrassment, Lyn picked up the broth and took a few small sips, hoping to calm her nerves down with some warm food. The two stayed like that for a few minutes, Jasper organizing the bookshelf and Lyn eating the broth in silence. When he was done, the man turned around and sat down next to her, and she automatically leaned against him like they did in the past.

“I, um, I’m sorry for being a jerk back then… and running away, and stuff,” she muttered, finally breaking the silence in the room.

Jasper smiled a little. “You know, Lyn, for someone who looks like a childish preteen, you sure are mature.”

“Shoosh, you,” she said with a small laugh. Putting the cup down, Lyn stood up and walked over to the keyboard. She cautiously pushed down on middle C, and smiled as the familiar humming rang out from its speakers.

“You still remember how to play?” Jasper asked as he joined the girl. He grabbed his swivel chair next to the laptop and sat down, watching Lyn with interest.

Rolling her eyes, Lyn decided against answering and instead brought both hands up to the instrument, slowly placing her fingers down to create an A Major chord, holding it in position before her right hand moved up an octave and played the same notes separately. The tempo then suddenly increased, and it was almost as if her fingers were on a ship in the middle of a storm, jumping from note to note in a seemingly random but melodic fashion before slowing down again and resolving in another A Major chord. As she proceeded with the rest of the piece, she was vaguely aware that Jasper had closed his eyes, but she continued to play her piece. Though she was showing off her skills to him, in a way, she was also trying to use the tune as an escape from her thoughts, or perhaps to better understand her thoughts. Whatever the case was, the music was somehow therapeutic, and it did calm her down considerably.

When the piece ended almost ten minutes later, Lyn saw Jasper open his eyes again. “So who’s the guy?” he asked with a mischievous smirk on his face. When Lyn didn’t answer, he just chuckled and said, “Kidding. But you’re obviously troubled by something if your playing is any reflection of how you’re feeling right now. Beethoven’s Tempest Sonata is not exactly a peaceful piece, you know.”

The girl sighed. “What, you’re not going to say how many times I messed up, or the articulation problems, or the balancing issues, or-”

“Come on, Lyn, that’s not the main thing here and you know that as well as I do, maybe even better. There’s obviously something on your mind, so if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Lyn stared at the piano, not wanting to look at Jasper in the eyes. She knew he meant well, and she knew deep down that she should trust him again, give him another chance. But after the incident so many years ago… though she could forgive him, she couldn’t forget how hurt she had felt by the incident, and thus, even seven years later, she found that she couldn’t confide in him about her worries and problems. Besides, how could he understand, when he had never met her friends before?

Turning towards him, Lyn said, “It’s fine. I’m sure everything will turn out okay in the end, anyways, but thank you for asking!”

She could tell that he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t pry. Instead, he reached towards the bookshelf and took out a rather large, spiral-bound book out before handing it to her. Lyn stared at it curiously and he explained, “That’s just an old collection of pieces I used to play whenever I was confused, upset, or just needed to vent. I thought you might like it.”

Yes, this will be totally useful without a piano, she thought to herself as she took the book and held it against her chest. Still, the thought was nice, and she appreciated that he would even think of giving her a gift after everything that had happened seven years ago. “Thanks, I guess,” she said with a hint of a smile in her voice, and Jasper smiled back.

“Not a problem. Though I think you need to head back to your friends now?”

“Probably…” As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had, indeed, missed Jasper a lot. She had spent seven years under his care before leaving and then spent the next seven with absolutely no contact to or from him. Though she still had problems trusting this man again, it was great to be able to have some time with him, even if for most of the reunion she had been unconscious. She looked at Jasper and saw that, despite his warm smile, he, too, had cherished what little time they had spent just now, and was going to miss her again with her second parting. After a few minutes of silence, she finally stood up and hugged him, glad when he returned the embrace. “I hope to see you again, maybe?”

Jasper nodded. “If fate is kind, perhaps we will.” They pulled apart, and Lyn had to force herself not to look at his face again as she turned towards the door. She opened it and stepped out, the room behind her disappearing as she landed, once more, in the empty stadium.

Still clutching her gift, the girl went back to her room and opened the book to a random page, not sure what to expect. Suddenly, the room was filled with the sound of a piano playing as the notes on the page began transforming into words. Lyn stared at the transformation before a sudden breeze in the room flipped the book to its inside cover, and she felt her eyes water as she read what was written for her there. She turned to the next page and found what looked like a letter to her as a string quartet began weaving melodies around the room.

“I’m sorry, Jazz, I’m sorry…” she whispered to herself, reading and rereading each letter that was written to her as Bach and Mozart and Chopin and Shostakovich resounded throughout her room. Each flip of a page was a different melody and a new letter written to her from Jasper, and, surprisingly (or rather, unsurprisingly), each piece that played perfectly complimented its corresponding letter. “I didn’t realize… all this time… so that’s what you were doing every evening, huh?” She stayed up the rest of the night to read the letters, only crashing when she got to the final word on the last page. As she curled herself over the still-open book, she was vaguely aware of the last movement of Haydn’s Symphony No. 45 being played around her, the final violin duet fading out before the wind closed the book once more and let the girl sleep a dreamless sleep.