Cheslock never liked to be homeschooled but when his father sent him to Weston, he had to admit that his homeschooling years were quite the times. At least he could meet with people he called his friends, he really missed them. Especially the girls. Especially those who weren't so ladylike. It's not like he wanted to belong to the lesser classes, he really enjoyed being a rich kid. It's just that he liked being The rich kid among his friends, he liked to be special. At Weston, everyone was rich and everyone was a mini gentleman, which was really unpleasant, but everyone was male and everyone knew what a violin was and almost everyone could play it at least a little bit, and this really creeped the fuck out of Cheslock.

It was almost a month since the school year started and he still barely spoke to anyone. He hated everyone. The Violet Wolf house master looked like a pervert and the Vice Principal was a complete tool. As much as he heard, the Prefects were the favourite pretty boys of the Principal, and he found it disgusting. He tried and managed to avoid fag times, and class times, and every existing times that included people, and mostly he was hiding in his bed, or in the library, planning his escape from this nightmare. Until he found the music room, full of beautiful musical instruments and old songbooks and rare manuscripts. That room left him completely breathless, it almost made him regret that he wanted to leave. Almost. But it was good enough to spend most of his time there practising and studying. Sometimes he got caught and was sent to the Vice Principle who made him learn poems in latin, as if it was a challenge, but mostly he was left alone, because nobody gave a damn about music in a school full of rich kids with earl grey in their veins. He wasn't special anymore, and it kinda started to drive him mad.

One night, he has just finished one of his favourite songs on the piano and was thinking hard what he should play next, when he heard a noise, like paper shifting, and the blood froze in him. He jumped up and released a short scream and glanced at the direction of where the sound came from. He couldn't see anything in the dark but he started to yell, trying to sound brave.

"W-who the fuck is there?! You'd better get lost!"

He grabbed the first thing that felt like a cricket bat, never knowing it was actually the broken neck of a cello, and got ready to use it violently. Spending one month in Violet Wolf, he's seen some really freaky things on the corridors. But a pile of darkness started to move; it stood up and answered him quietly:

"You'd better put that down and speak to me like I'm your Prefect" black and white locks of hair fell from under his hood and he carried a sketchbook with him. He had a seat near the piano. "Sit back and continue."

"Oh" Cheslock kept holding the neck of that cello. He was still frightened, but irritated at the same time. He glanced at the purple dahlia in the breast pocket of the boy. "You're the Prefect of Purple House."

"Now, aren't you an exceptionally smart kid?" said the Prefect slowly after his dark, thin lips curved into something like a numb smile. He nested himself on the chair, crinkling his legs under himself and rested the book on his knees. He lifted his eye to Cheslock. "Continue, will you?"

Cheslock wobbled for seconds. He finally threw away the piece of cello and mumbled resentfully:

"Why?"

"Because I adore the way you play" the Prefect was sure that he left some coal in his cloak, so he started to search for it. "And because you are obliged to do as I tell you."

Cheslock suddenly felt like he was going to faint. He felt really flattered, almost happy. Nowadays, only his teachers remembered to compliment him, and some people when he gave concerts. Not even his family members, and his friends from the streets never heard him play. And now a complete stranger crawls out of the corner and he's the first in this school to have a good word for him, what is more, on the music he plays. And it turns out, that he was the Prefect. He said it so simply and quietly, as if he was just stating that it rains outside and yet it sounded so nice, something only close friends tell each other. But he didn't even know him. His name was something Violet. Maybe Gabriel? Or Gary? But certainly Violet. In the opening ceremony, where everything was announced in front of the whole school, somewhen, somebody said his name, but Cheslock was half asleep, and never bothered to find out anything since then. But he remembered that the dormitory leader was Violet. What a coincidence. He finally sat back to the piano, and not because it was the Prefect who ordered him. He still wanted to hit him in the face with a cricket bat, but music is music. He sat in silence for a while, his fingers on the keys. He noticed that his hands were shaking. He noticed that his whole body was shaking. He noticed that Violet was staring at him from under his hood. He really, really wanted to hit him.

"What should I play?"

"Moonlight Sonata." replied Violet immediately.

Cheslock smirked. He was convinced that he would request this particular song, but it felt really good that Violet believed he could play something this hard. Of course, he could, it's a pushover. Normally, people got surprised when they heard him play Beethoven or Mozart. Their works were considered the hardest of all and it was really nice to hear that somebody finds it as natural as he does that he can play it. He didn't want to hit Violet anymore. He always liked people who had good taste in music. Yet, he was a bit afraid of him. He heard a rumour weeks before that he's either a vampire prince or the son of an undertaker, maybe both. Now came the time that he knew the answer: definitely both. Cheslock couldn't hear him enter the room, which means that he either moves in silence, like a cat, or he was in the room the entire time, and neither explanation supports the vampire or undertaker thing less than the other. He couldn't see much of him, only one of his eyes and half his face. It looked really pretty and pale and his lips and eye were dark purple, like a real vampire. And to top all this, he wanted to hear Moonlight Sonata. Nothing says hungry vampire like Moonlight Sonata. His teacher told him this once and he finally understood the message. What would be the probability of him finding that bat again faster than his blood would get totally drained?...

"You are really talented" suddenly he found himself sitting like a statue. The sonata ended and Violet was sitting beside him, whispering near his ear. This was the only thing about playing that Cheslock hated, he always loses against the music and forgets about time and surroundings. "Are you all right?"

"Yes" said Cheslock, but he wasn't alright at all. He hasn't slept in a day and spaced out while playing the piano, and Violet is now sitting beside him and his voice sounds like butterflies and death, and he was afraid to look but he was sure that his face looked like moonlight. He glanced at his own hands. They were still holding the last keys and they were shaking. Not as badly as his chest was shaking but Violet must have noticed it. He drew them back under the keyboard. It was really horrible, feeling like a hare near the snake. He tried to calm down. "Did you like it?"

"Of course" his lips turned into a tired smile again. He looked really kind, actually. Cheslock wasn't even sure why he was scared. He liked the vampire stories. But vampires seemed less frustrating while they remained in the books. "Thank you."

"You drew me?" Cheslock knitted his brows when he saw the sketchbook on the other side of Violet. That coal picture looked like something that would take up at least an hour to complete it, so either he didn't realise and played Moonlight Sonata four times in a row, again, or Violet has the speed of a grown-up vampire. And it looked like a masterpiece. He saw what kids did in art classes and they were nowhere around this. No wonder why Violet was the Prefect. He persuaded the Principal with his vampire powers to appoint him. Respect towards him started to grow in Cheslock.

"I had to" Violet took off his cloak and put it on the picture. He put his left leg on the seat and sat in the direction of Cheslock. "There's something really magical in drawing people who are doing what they love. And I don't get to have models like you very often."

Cheslock started to feel enchanted. Violet's words said happiness but his tone was sadness and his voice was tired and his movements seemed slow. It felt like the room got darker and only the pale skin on Violet was shining and the color in his eyes. Cheslock started to feel like he's in one of his depressing nightmares from which he will wake up with tears in his eyes and cramps in his heart, though nothing happened that would be scary or sad, actually, nothing happened at all. He didn't understand this feeling and he didn't want to, he just wanted Violet to stand up and leave. But instead he looked painfully slowly at his hidden hands and asked him for how long has he been playing. He told him that, according to his father, he could play the piano and the violin years before he would say a word, but he ain't sure if it's likely to be.

"That's very likely" said Violet and touched Cheslock's right hand and lifted it as if it was his own property. "You have beautiful hands with thin and long fingers. Only musicians like you have this kind of fingers."

Cheslock suddenly felt paralysed. Why is he touching him? Why his hand? Violet was slowly caressing the bones in his hand with his own cold fingers and black nails, daydreaming, like he was touching some very rare and precious ivory item that could break in any moment, and Cheslock just sat there with the intention of punching him in the face and staking his heart but his body was completely numb. He felt his face burning and goose bumps running through his back. He wasn't sure anymore if he was still breathing or if his heart was still beating. He felt like he released some awkward laughter. Violet had skinny fingers too. He found them really pretty now that he pointed out that thin fingers are pretty. Cheslock started to love his own fingers too, but before he never looked at them like this, nor did he look at other people's fingers. It just never occurred to him that fingers could be thin or not thin, pretty or ugly.

"Cheslock, right?" Violet's voice crushed the silence like a hammer, still caressing Cheslock's fingers. "Are you aware of the fact that you are getting yourself in quite a huge trouble by skipping class and fag times and sneaking out of your room at night?"

"Am I?" Cheslock hoped he was the only one feeling his voice shaking.

"You are" Violet lifted his eye on him. "If you continue this lifestyle, a letter will be sent to your father explaining that the college does not wish to help your education anymore."

Cheslock blinked and closed his mouth. He didn't even realise it was open. He felt like a fool.

"My father doesn't really care about me." de said a few seconds later.

"Well he obviously does," replied Violet, putting down the boy's hand. "if he sent you to Weston."

"He just wanted to imprison me, so that he could see me less often and make sure that I stay in one particular place." he turned his head down, hoping he could protect himself with his long, dark hair from Violet's glaze. He wiped the keyboard on the piano and closed it.

"Why would he do that?" Violet spoke softly and sounded like someone who actually cares. Cheslock smiled under his hair because he didn't want to believe that a vampire cares.

"My father hates me, that's all." he chuckled, almost crying. He knew Violet doesn't really care.

"Imagine how much he would hate you if he got that letter, saying that you're wasting his money." smiled Violet.

"I don't really give a damn about his levels of hate, for your information" Cheslock stood up, preparing to leave. "I don't plan on returning home."

"But you should attend classes anyway." Violet jumped up as well and stood in the way of Cheslock.

Cheslock was surprised that he was taller than Violet. Even if he straightened his back, he would have been a bit smaller than Cheslock.

"I don't want to be at Weston, so hearing that I might get kicked out of it really doesn't scare me at all." he shrugged and tried to walk by Violet, but he got in his way again.

"Nobody leaves Weston so easily" said Violet in a tone that gave Cheslock shivers and looked at him with his dark purple eyes. "Especially not Violet Wolf. We are called wolves for a reason."

Now Cheslock was truly frightened. He just stood there looking into the violet eyes and he couldn't say a word. He didn't want to get kicked out and get his father hate him more, but what could he say? What could he do? Violet put on his cloak and put his sketchbook into Cheslock's hands:

"Come to my room."

"What? Why?!" he felt like waking up from a hypnosis, and it was really shocking.

"Because I find you an interesting and attractive person, and I want to speak with you in my room" again, Violet told these words as easily as gentlemen wish good morning to each other, and they hit Cheslock like a falling stone from the top of the Westminster Abbey. "And because I'm your Prefect, and you do as I order."

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