Leftovers (Charity)

Becks was not prepared for a flash of Boy, tumbling limbs and the sound of an unpleasant cracking somewhere on the floor. Jumping out of the way, he raised his arms up to avoid being collided with and was spared- “whoops!” he said with a light chuckle. That’d teach him not to go dumping his stuff in the doorways, Becks supposed, grinning because- well, there didn’t seem to be anything else to do and not at the other boy's misfortune at all. His smile however faded as he heard the timid little mumble of a boy, seemingly choking around tears and was replaced by a curl of guilt at causing the obstruction.

“Oh, dude, I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing at his neck. “I shouldn’t be leaving stuff in the way.” Yep, he was definitely crying. Becks loved music, and he loved what music was in its most basic sense sound. He loved the sound of rain on the rooftops, the different tones that a glass tumbler makes as it hits the ground and shatters into pieces, and the quiet breaths two people together- not even talking, just slowly synchronising their heartbeats. But if there was one sound that was guaranteed to leave him feeling a little strained then it wasn’t the mewl of a starving fox or the impotent fizzle of electricity running through a circuit that just won’t work, it was the sound of someone crying.

“You aren’t hurt are you? That was quite a tumble you took,” he said, all genuine concern. But he didn’t think so, not unless he’d scraped himself along something, or bashed against the floor awkwardly. But he didn’t think the crying was because of that, somehow.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed softly. “It’s cool, really,” Becks insisted, full of sincerity and something pleading. He crouched down to the boy’s level and picked up the flimsy slip of analog board and held it up, wires hanging loose and pathetic looking, no different now than it had been before. “It was all already broken, see,” he smiled wide, tried to be reassuring, though for some reason the other guy didn’t seem to want to meet his eye. And what eyes they would be if he could catch them head on; brightest blue like the sky was supposed to be, like Becks assumed it was anywhere that wasn’t district three, even cast down they looked pretty powerful. If they had a sound, Becks imagined it would be something high, lingering and melodic …a flute perhaps? “It’s what I do. Fix things that are broken,” he said in a soft, gentle voice. A small chuckle there from Becks who kept hoping that it would be infectious. He had pressed himself a new task, and that was to make this guy feel better.

Because there was something in those downcast eyes, that shy little fumble of words that Becks recognised. That he remembered; before the smiling and the music and the new Becks who can talk to just about anyone and fix just about anything. Tried his damndest not to, but there you go.

“I love it. Promised my mom I’d cut down on bringing this stuff home, but have you seen this?” He tapped the analog board, again not really stopping to think that the boy might not care about bits of junk as much he’d did. “She’s serious old school stuff,” Becks said, all wide eyed and serious. “It was love at first sight, I swear. A few more parts, bit of tinkering I reckon and I can figure out how to make her sing," he flipped the thing from side to side, truth being that he couldn't really make heads or tale of something as old as this. "Somehow."

And then Becks, realised that it wasn’t just the long buried parts of himself that he recognised. He’d seen the other boy about places the apartment building a few other times, shuffling in and out, head down, lips whispering something to himself- though Becks didn’t know what. He used to do that too, a couple of years ago when he was sure he was alone. Usually words of encouragement, that same old faking it to making it mantra; ‘you’re doing great, Becks. You can do this. It’s awesome’. He raised a finger, pointing at the guy and smiled.

“Sixth floor, right? I’ve seen you around. I’m fourth floor, but really wishing I wasn’t right now,” he said gesturing to all of the equipment and to the broken elevator. Part of Becks was hoping that he might still get an offer to get help carrying everything up the stairs. But he wasn’t about to push it- not after such a spill “and I sure am sorry, really. Anything I can do to make it up to you…a drink, or whatever, just say it.” He stood up and offered his hand out to Sixth Floor, to help him get up.

“It’s good to finally talk to you, Sixth Floor. Shame about the circumstances. Sorry. Again”

The air in district three was permanently heavy with pollution and it weighed down on all of them; on their backs, pressing down on temples and eyelids, clogging up their corrupted lungs. The world containing it could be cruel and arbitrary, embodied and encapsulated so perfectly in a glass ball with names scrawled on it (a ball…in this district when a computer could do the job so easily, but the capitol always did get the best of everything). But it was always nice, in the day to day, to be reminded that even if the large things were so uncontrollable and strange that the smallest things had decency in them. An e minor scale had it, harmonic accapella voices had it and the kindness of strangers certainly did.Becks grinned.

“Seriously? Sweet,” he nodded to the stuff, “Anything you can do to help would be awesome.” Becks also noticed how different he and Sixth Floor were in terms of height. It was strange, but he never really noticed being tall- he’d been tall for as long as he could vividly remember after all and never really tended to notice himself, what with everything else that seemed to be going on outside of his own body. That and, Becks supposed, he’d always felt smaller, hunching over a work bench could rob a person of a lot of height, the great grey buildings in district three were enough to swamp a guy and there was a certain sort of tallness that seemed to grow from within. As though pretending you were tall or thinking that you were small could make it so.

He must have been taller than, well…him…too, he’d shot up at around fifteen the way that all of his brothers had done, towering over their father who was short, naturally stocky and pale in a stark contrast to his dark reedy wife and children. The other man had been lean and broad shouldered but not at all tall, even if he leaned against the walls outside of school as though he owned everything he saw, breathing up the polluted air like it was all his. Somehow though, Becks had always felt little, like he was able to fit neatly into the palms of cupped hands calloused from fret work on the strings of a guitar. Tall eyes, perhaps. It was nice to finally be able to walk tall, shoulders back and pierce that great big polluted sky.

Stooping to pick up the air conditioning unit, Becks grunted a little and wrapped his hands around the base. “I’m not exactly Mr Fitness myself,” he smiled at Sixth Floor. “This might take a while…if that’s okay.” Nudging the door open with his foot, Becks went ahead, not really thinking that there was anything strange about it at all. It was logical enough since Becks knew where he lived and Sixth Floor didn’t. “Do you work then, Sixth Floor?” he asked casually after a little while, feeling the need to inspire a conversation to speed up the job.

He was muttering to himself again, looking straight at the floor, watching every step. It seemed a little strange but, live and let live was always Becks’ way. Honestly, the kid might think Becks was weird too for carting all this junk about. He noticed the tapping too, a little closely. Good rhythm, could be a fair drummer. “Play anything? Musically I mean.”

Beck’s shifted the unit in his arms and turned around, hanging back a little to nod his head in approval at Sixth Floor’s revelation that he worked in computers. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly like rain made out of chocolate milk and this was D3 after all; you only had to stand out in the street and spit and you’d hit someone that worked in computers. But Beck’s had known- just known somehow- that the two of them would have something like that in common- only when Becks worked with computers it wasn’t so much to keep him focused, in fact his projects were the things that seemed to keep him flightier than ever; never happy with one, always looking to what other piece of junk he could find. Perhaps that was what they both needed from their hobbies; laidback Becks needed something to light a fire in him and Sixth Floor with his muttering and his nerves that were written all over his face like spray painting pictures lurking at the bottoms of some of the gray slab tenement buildings around district 3.

“Cool. That’s really cool,” said Becks, flashing Sixth Floor a toothy grin before continuing his journey up the stairs. “You might be able to teach me about some stuff some other time…I bet you’re pretty smart, too. I just do a bit of everything. Jack of all trades and all that…,” he continued calling back to Sixth Floor who he assumed was maintaining a close distance behind him. “Repairs, sorting out sound equipment…just small things on the side til school is done with, really. ”

He thought about what his room would look like if he invited Sixth Floor into his place; not so much worried about the mess and how embarrassing it might be, more excited than anything to see what Sixth Floor might make of some of the computer systems he had lurking about and sitting on shelves. Becks was no programmer or anything; more a straight up practical electrical/mechanical sort of guy so the prospect of talking shop with someone who knew their systems more intimately than Becks did filled him with excitement.

“My main thing is the music though,” Beck’s continued, not really thinking to check and look back at Sixth Floor, missing his initial panic- the internal strain of counting steps, the worry. He was lost in his own world of possibilities, of a laid back afternoon talking electronics and avoiding his Mom who was bound to start yelling at some point about the new collection. He stopped outside of the familiar door to his family’s apartment and fished for his keys, still blathering on about music. “Or sound in general I guess.” Like the high pitched metallic clank of the key on his chain, attached to a bolt and a tiny monkey wrench pendant, the click of the lock and the door frame against the thick rug in the hall of his house.

“You name the instrument…and I can play it…a little.” Maybe that sounded vain, Becks wondered for a moment chewing on his lip- a rare glimmer of self doubt that used to be frequent as drawing breath. Even now, the lingering need to please, to be liked still lurked in the pit of Beck’s stomach and he realised that Sixth Floor hadn’t said much for a while…had barely even been noticeable at his side and…wasn’t actually even there at all. Becks set down his equipment and poked his head out onto the landing again.

“Sixth Floor? Sixth Floor?”he cast left and right, worriedly up and down the hall- all of it a harsh shade of white like a clinic or a laboratory, the carpet fraying and the lingering stale and fetid smell of garbage juice present since yesterday had been garbage day. Maybe Sixth Floor had gotten lost somewhere around the last flight of stairs, or had fallen and gotten hurt. Beck’s didn’t know why he was so worried but he was.

And upon finding Sixth Floor slowly come into view at the top of the hall, he broke into yet another, more relieved, smile.

“You okay there, dude? Come in…I have something to show you,” he said with a raising of his eyebrows and this time Becks waited at the doorjamb for Sixth Floor to make sure that he managed to make it all the way with him this time.

Though Becks was too used to it to notice, the house smelled sickly sweat from the cleaning products their mother used but always underneath it was the long engrained scent of a set of boys all awkwardly stumbling their way into man hood; like sweat, odd stains and strange feelings and skid marks and heady hormones. The hallway was dark but in the same way as an enveloping hug so that it was comforting rather than frightening and, upon entering the living area it was easy to see that not just Becks had a thing for junk. The Roentgen Family did seem to have a lot of clutter.

Half of it ornaments and odd little trinkets of no real use to anybody, some of it toys and some of it just…well mess seemed the only way to describe it. Among it all sat a dark boy of about twelve with the same explosive afro as Becks, sitting in his underwear wearing a grumpy expression and eying the air conditioner unit.

“Mom’s gonna freak when she finds out you’ve got more junk in your room.”

“What Mom doesn’t know won’ hurt her,” said Becks with a wink, reaching over to ruffle his brother’s hair. “How much is silence gonna cost me this time?”

“How much you got?”

Becks turned to smile at Sixth Floor,“This is my kid brother, Hertz; he’s the comedian, the class clown... a real live wire.” Hertz remained, as ever, stony faced with the same grumpy expression he always wore. “Hertz meet Sixth Floor. Sixth Floor, Hertz.”

Nicknames were not an unusual thing for Becks to give out, not because he wasn’t good at names, just because it felt personalised. A tailor made name just for you from Becks, one of a kind. Also he was terrible with names. Hertz didn’t bat an eyelid at his brother’s new friend and his strange name, simply turned back to the slim grey book that he was reading.

“My room is just through there,” said Becks to Sixth Floor indicating with his head and into the room. It smelt the same as always; like oil, burnt metal and glue and wires of all description, bright primary colours and shimmering copper threaded around the room, skated along the floor making it almost impossible to walk without stepping on something. There were parts everywhere; computers, musical instruments, rotary engines, tiny little circuit boards as well as other more unsavoury items such as old tissue paper, the remnants of chicken eaten perhaps more than two months ago and some old yoghurt tops that had curled and crusted over. Becks didn’t mind though; only scanned the room with his air conditioner unit in arm.

“Just gotta figure out a place for- aha!” Becks found a shelf besides his work station filled with trays of bolts an screws and swept it aside casually so that everything spilled to the floor with a thousand tiny little ‘twanging’ sounds so that the other things could sit pride of place on the shelf. “Perfect.”

Satisfied, Becks fell onto his bed and smiled at Sixth Floor, “Have a seat.” But seriously, where? He said gesturing around the room. “You want me to get you anything? I think Mom has some tea or coffee…I could fix you up some toast?” Becks had to laugh at himself. “I’m sorry dude- toast- I’m just super grateful for all the help is all.”

At the compliment, Becks looked down at his shoes as though seeing them for the first time and let out a small, amused, “huh,” truth was he didn’t even remember buying them, or finding them which sometimes happened. “Do you want ‘em?” Becks had never found his shoes that interesting, apart from the noise that they made when they hit the pavement, so as far as he could tell that meant he didn’t deserve them as much as…Zeek…was it? Becks wasn’t going to call him that, not to be rude or because he couldn’t be bothered Sixth Floor was a little too ingrained now, something personal between the two of them, but swapping names was a big deal to other people and Becks appreciated the gesture.

Picking up one foot, Becks began to untie his laces, “Becks…” a little noise of effort as he began to pull on the shoe to get it off, swaying a little on the spot. “ah Roentgen.” Triumphantly, Becks held the shoe aloft and promptly lost his balance, toppling sideways like a thin, dark tree. Hands reaching he gripped onto Zeek’s shoulders and was able to right himself properly, crouching over and using Zeek to steady himself.

Grinning and letting out an amused huff, Beck’s caught Zeek’s eye. Very round, very icy colored and incredibly captivating, Becks didn’t really want to look away, but knew he had to. Since him there had never been anyone really, just lots and lots of friends. Attractive friends with captivating eyes and warm smiles, who might make Becks shudder at their touch at first but that always tended to fade with time anyway. A more bitter boy might say that he didn’t need any more friends, especially at those bored moments in the day when he would slide the bolt he’d installed across the door and..ah…leave himself to his own devices- but Becks wasn’t like that. You could never have enough friends.

“Graceful as a swan as always. Here,” Becks pulled away presented Zeek with the shoes, laid flat on his hands like an offering and bowed his head slightly in mock reverence. “Or not. They’re pretty gross, actually.” He ran a finger across the lolling tongue and the shoe seemed to pull a face at Zeek.

Becks forgot that he’d ever made an offer of tea as he remembered the reason he’d pulled Sixth Floor into his room in the first place. To show off his prize, the way he did to almost everyone, like a proud parent might do his new born baby boy. If Hertz was in the room he would have rolled his eyes so hard they could have rolled right out of their sockets, but he wasn’t so Becks just grinned, “You ever seen one of these before?” he asked, going to his wardrobe where she slept and gripping it by the base, putting her pride of place in the centre of the room.

“This is Lucie,” he said, stroking her box lovingly, her metal antennae standing proud.

Though they were nothing more than the newest of acquaintances, bodies passing in the hall for years and only just choosing to speak a single word to each other today Becks had thought he’d understood Sixth Floor at least a little. But perhaps he shouldn’t have assumed anything, because there was a puzzle wrapped around the way he leaned in close to whisper that Lucie the Theremin was beautiful and then pull away on the verge of tears. A puzzle that maybe seemed simple at first, had made Becks arrogant of his ability to unpick it, but had turned out to be devilishly tricky after all. It was the same way with some of the objects he brought home; computer systems, wiring that looked like they would be easy to fix but somehow were a lot more complicated than he’d anticipated. He never gave up on them though.

I'm sorry, I need to go home. I need to go, the slightly bemused smile he’d been wearing when Sixth Floor leaned in close to him slipped a little and Becks reached out to lightly touch the wrist wiping tears from Sixth Floor’s face. “Not yet,” he said, a hint of firmness hidden in his gentle deep voice. The magic of the theremin was not in what it looked like, it was what it sounded like and Becks couldn’t let Sixth Floor go without at least giving him a little demonstration. “I haven’t shown you what she can do.” He tipped his head in a is this okay? sort of fashion before deciding that it probably was and smiling wide at Sixth Floor again.

Arms coming round to barely grip Sixth Floor’s shoulders, he smiled broad again and let out a little chuckle, pushing him backwards a little, coaxing and guiding Zeek towards the bed and into the sitting position. “She doesn’t have strings, or holes or anything like that…but she can still make music.” Becks grinned and turned the dial of the theremin, letting the thrum fill the room, a sort of swell of anticipation heavy and pregnant waiting for something to happen. Becks didn’t take his eyes off Zeek’s round, swirling blue ones.

He chose Clair de Lune because he knew each move and each note more than he knew the veins that ran through him and the beating heart in his chest. It was not an easy instrument to master, requiring an acute awareness of the fine motions of his body and the effects they had on Lucie and the pulsing electromagnetic fields around her. Every subtle adjustment of Becks's fingers, wrists, arms and body affected the sound, every part of him attuned to her. And what music they made together, devastatingly haunting to his ears, otherworldly and ephemeral as smoke. Slowly, letting a swell of sound over take him, Becks let his eyes flutter closed as he moved his arms on a wave of music, letting the sweet sounds fill the air.

For a moment, he forgot about the world outside of his body and the oscillating waves that made up the noise of everything, who he was, who he had been and who he will be- forgot about Sixth Floor too and possessions and problems and friendship and emotions. He just was. Just like Clair de Lune. Until he finished the song and his eyes opened onto the room again, “Pretty cool right?” he said with a nonchalant sort of shrug.