MY HEART IS A CONCERT HALL

A chronological timeline of Holle and Pieter's lives as they go about being complete rockstars of acapella and just life, in general. Prompts are accepted and encouraged!

Title courtesy of Florence + The Machine's Conductor.

ONE

All great musicians have legendary origin stories. Unfortunately, DSM's happens to be 'we did it for school'.

"For your final grade," The professor announces five minutes before class is scheduled to end. "We have decided to do away with traditional tests. This is, after all, an arts school." The news receives a mixed bag of reactions – the students in the back rows (the ones who are here on scholarships, who burst into song and dance whenever they feel like it) cheer and clap while the ones in the front (the ones who've had their noses buried in textbooks all along, as if singing and dancing and music is something you can learn from a book) groan and try to change their lecturer's mind. Stuck somewhere in the middle of the vast lecture hall, Holle finds herself equally torn between both reactions.

"Instead," The man goes on, undeterred by the chaos he has wrought upon the class. "We will put to good use all that you have been taught. You will form performance groups with members from different disciplines – dance majors, vocalists, composers, and so forth. Together, you will work as a collective and perform entirely new routines at the end of each semester this year. We will grade you based on these performances."

At the mere thought of a group project, the entire lecture hall groans in unison. Holle can feel a frown tugging at her lips. She will have to act quickly and put together a team of truly dedicated and hardworking students, before all the best are taken and she is left with the slackers who will do nothing but sit back and drag down the entire group with their dead weight.

"Come now," Herr Hoffman cajoles the group of seniors. "You are musicians, are you not? This will come to you naturally, more so than any paper I could ask you to write. And have I mentioned," The professor's eyes twinkle, though Holle wonders if perhaps she is the only one to notice as everyone else is otherwise distracted as they put away their things. "That there will be a reward for the group with the highest score?"

The lecture hall is abruptly plunged into a state of silence as students collectively stop forcing books and writing utensils into their bags. From the very back of the hall, a familiar voice rings out. "Well, out with it!"

"Rude," Holle mutters under her breath. There is, perhaps, a hint of fondness in her voice.

Herr Hoffman frowns. "Manners, Herr Krämer!" He chides, which draws a round of snickers from the students in the back. The old man sighs in defeat. "Very well, then. Next summer, the German embassy in Spain will hold its annual festival, to better acquaint the Spanish with our culture." Already the lecture hall is abuzz, students gasping and murmuring amongst themselves. They are all seasoned performers here; most had applied to the university because of the ample opportunities it offers for students to gain actual experience in performing. But to represent their country in a foreign land would be an honor the likes of which have yet to be conferred upon them. Holle can see even the laziest members of their class suddenly sitting ramrod straight, eyes focused on the professor.

"At the end of the academic year, your performances – one at the end of each semester, as previously mentioned – will be taken into consideration and you will receive a single score." Herr Hoffman explains. "The group with the highest marks will be invited to perform at the Spanish festival, and possibly a few others organized by our embassies."

The murmurs turn into a storm of excited chattering, and when that same damnable familiar voice speaks up again, Holle notes that he has to raise his voice to be heard above the din. "Is it an all-expenses paid trip?"

A laugh ripples through the class but Holle remains quiet. She can feel eyes burning into her back; the fool is doing this on purpose and she won't give him the satisfaction of being the one to turn around and seek him out.

"I suppose, Herr Krämer," Their professor's voice rumbles with laughter as well. "You will just have to find out for yourself. And now, class, you are dismissed. Have a good afternoon!"

And with the end of their first class this semester, Holle wins the game.

Nearly half of the students leap to their feet as soon as they are dismissed, snatching up their packed bags and filtering out of the lecture hall in groups of twos and fives and tens. Already Holle can see teams forming. With every passing second, her pool of candidates grows smaller. But she remains seated, taking her own sweet time to arrange her books, stack up the few loose sheets of paper, replace each pen cap… until the roar of a hundred students dies down and she can hear footsteps ringing out as they trace a path from the back of the hall to her row.

"Well, well, well," Pieter smirks, his arms crossed. Holle says nothing, lets him have his moment as she shoulders her bag and approaches him. "Look who's returned. Was Paris not good enough for you, then?"

"Paris was fine," She shrugs, playing along. "The students were all so professional though; I could not find a single class buffoon to replace you, and I found I rather missed the free entertainment."

He's probably got at least a dozen replies lined up, but instead they bask in absolute silence for a beat, and then she's grinning and stepping into his open arms. "Hello, you oaf," Holle pulls back to kiss his cheek. "I see nearly six months apart have done little to cure you of your poor manners and bad sense of humor. Not to mention your acting skills; you were overdoing it, just right then."

"It is a good thing that we are musicians then, not actors." Pieter says very seriously. He manages to hold his mask for an impressive ten seconds before it crumples away to reveal laughing eyes and upturned lips. "But really," An arm slings itself around her shoulders as they leave the lecture hall behind. "How was Paris?"

"Well, the education was wonderful, of course," What else could she possibly say? The Conservatoire de Paris is one of the best conservatories around, and- "Honestly, I'm still surprised they accepted me for a semester."

"Holle," Pieter rolls his eyes. "There isn't a school out there foolish enough to reject you. Surely you must know this by now." She has her doubts at times, but Holle would rather not relive the experience of Pieter holding her by her shoulders and making her chant I am the best at an ever-increasing volume until he was convinced he'd gotten the message into her head.

"Yes, of course," She says instead, quickly plowing ahead to change the subject before Pieter can decide he doesn't believe her. "Some of the students were almost as annoying as you, can you believe it?"

"Certainly that is an admirable feat," Pieter commends. "Whatever could they have done to earn such ire?"

Holle shrugs off the hand still wrapped around her shoulders as they turn into the main hallway, bustling with students and teachers. Pieter stuffs his hand into his pocket, batting away a pang of disappointment at Holle's easy rejection.

"They decided the bossy German needed a nickname," Holle grumbles, completely oblivious to the shadow that flits across Pieter's face for a mere two seconds. "So they took to calling me Kommissar for the entire semester."

"Shouldn't it be Kommissarin?" Pieter supplies as he files this little detail away for future use. He's been trying to find Holle a nickname for three years now, and this is much more fitting than anything he's come up with over the years.

"Exactly!" Holle huffs, exasperation clear in the set of her shoulders. "The idiots."

"Well," Pieter bumps her shoulder with his own. "At least that's over with now. Now you are amongst your own once more, and there will be none of this silliness. We are, after all, a no-nonsense people."

Holle laughs, a harsh bark of laughter yet genuine nonetheless. It is, perhaps, one of Pieter's favorite sounds. "Pieter," She shakes her head. "If that were true of all Germans, you would be immediately disqualified."

"Are you implying that I am silly, Fraulein Hensel?" Pieter fakes outrage at the notion.

"The silliest," Holle nods, a warm fondness in her voice and her eyes as she stretches up on the tips of her toes to ruffle Pieter's hair. It isn't often that he leaves it long enough for her to have anything to ruffle, but the messy curls make an appearance once or twice a year, whenever Pieter is too caught up with other things to spare a visit to the barber. "Now come," She says, slipping her arm through Pieter's. "We must figure out what our group will be."

"I am invited to be a part of your elite collective, then?" Pieter asks teasingly as Holle leads them to the dining hall.

"Don't be silly," She huffs, landing a slap on his arm. "You're the only one I actually want to work with."

It's times like these when he wonders if perhaps he shouldn't be so quick to dismiss his feelings for her; times like these when he wonders why they ever broke up in the first place. But that was so long ago now, and Pieter has had countless opportunities since to fix things. Whatever chance they had at salvaging that aspect of their relationship is probably long dead by now.

"Only because you worry I might defeat you otherwise," He quips, choking down a thousand other things he could have said, should have said. "What is it the Americans say? Ah, yes: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."

"Pieter!" Holle beams at him, eyes dancing with mirth. "You actually got that one right."

"Come now," He glowers at her. "Don't sound so surprised."

Holle suppresses a bout of laughter. "Don't pout," She grins as they reach the dining hall and Pieter holds the door open for her. "Some surprise is well-deserved, don't you think? You have a great fondness for nonsensical sayings, Pieter, but that does not bestow upon you a mastery over these odd phrases."

"You know," Pieter eyes her contemplatively as they claim their usual table, tucked away in a corner far from the crowd. "I am beginning to wonder if I ever missed you at all."

"Oh, hush," Holle waves dismissively. "Of course you did." She drops her bag on the table, leaving her things in Pieter's care while she gets them lunch.

Pieter sighs. "I suppose I did." He's quite hopeless when it comes to Holle. It's turning into a problem, really.

But he can't be bothered by it, especially when Holle skims a delicate hand along his shoulder as she walks by. "I missed you too, silly man."

He would never think to call Holle cruel, but what she unknowingly does to him can only be described as such, at times.

"Pieter?"

"Yes?" She's living off-campus this year, and the fact that Holle hasn't even jumped out of bed to shriek at him for breaking into her apartment and invading her bedroom makes Pieter wonder just what she's got on that laptop screen of hers.

Holle's eyes don't leave the screen until Pieter invites himself into bed and flops on his belly, immediately taking up half of the mattress. "What are your thoughts," She asks slowly, without sparing him a single disapproving look for his behavior. "Regarding acapella?"

Well, that explains quite a bit. "Is that what's kept you so distracted these past few days?" Pieter wonders out loud, turning on his side to observe Holle. She nods, eyes betraying nervousness and uncertainty, emotions the likes of which Pieter rarely sees in her.

"It is a sound idea," He says encouragingly. "Certainly something to set us apart from the other groups."

"It gives us a wider pool of candidates," Holle explains. "We could consider those who do not play instruments." Her eyes are wary yet eager, and she can't help but bite down on her lower lip while she watches Pieter turn the idea over in his head. It's an awful habit of hers, a dead giveaway on the rare occasions she finds herself feeling nervous. She'll get rid of it sooner or later.

"Alright then," Pieter finally decides. Holle's lips curve upwards as soon as he speaks. "Acapella it is. What did you have in mind?"

Holle turns her laptop around, motioning for Pieter to come closer. He hauls himself up with a sigh and mimics her cross-legged position, their backs leaning against her headboard. With their arms pressed against one another's, Pieter can feel the way Holle is practically humming with excitement. It's foreign to him, almost as if they've stumbled into a role-reversal of sorts. There is something strangely compelling about an excited Holle.

"This," Holle tells him, clicking play on the video she's pulled up. It's labelled ICCAs Semi-Finalists and on-screen, he sees a group of boys recreating hip-hop and rock music with nothing but their mouths. It's a fresh take on acapella, but quite obviously an amateur attempt. "I want to do this," Holle says. "But bigger, better-"

"That does sound like you," Pieter interrupts with a grin; Holle's palpable enthusiasm for this idea is infectious. Already Pieter can tell this is what they'll be doing for the next year; there is no talking her out of this and even if there were, he hasn't the heart to. "How big are we thinking? Ten people? Fifteen, maybe?"

A sheepish smile draws the corners of her lips upwards. "I was thinking," Holle shrugs, aiming for a casual tone. "Twenty?"

Twenty people. Choreography alone would be a nightmare, not to mention the actual acapella bit. They could barely get ten people to sing in harmony for their performance during freshman year, though Holle and Pieter had carried most of that number on their shoulders and their group went on to place at the top of their class anyway.

"You cannot be serious," Pieter frowns, dimming his enthusiasm for the first time since Holle turned those smiling eyes upon him. "Holle, how are we supposed to get twenty people to perform in sync?"

"But Pieter," Holle snaps her laptop shut and helps herself to a few inches of Pieter's personal space, draping her arms around his neck. The woman has no concept of boundaries and while that had been enjoyable once upon a time (a very, very brief time and how he wishes it had lasted longer than a semester), now it just brings back old memories he's spent three years trying to forget.

"Pieter," She says, sliding her serious mask into place. "We need a bigger sound. And don't tell me you think the two of us won't be able to whip eighteen weak-willed students into shape. They're bound to listen to one of us, at the very least. Probably me," Holle shrugs, throwing in a little grin as she waits for Pieter's verdict.

He sighs in defeat. How the hell is he supposed to say no to the woman when she looks at him like that? Not to mention the fact that her very toned, very muscular and probably deadly arms are wrapped around his neck. Best not to deny her anything, Pieter decides. "Twenty it is, then," Holle's already leaned forward to kiss his cheek before he's done talking. "We can do it the American way; what do they call it? That thing where one policeman goes by the book and the other tries to intimidate their suspect."

"Good cop, bad cop?" Holle supplies after a moment's thought, disengaging her arms from around Pieter's neck and pulling away from him to place a respectable distance between them once more. The gap between them is, as always, maintained solely by Holle. It is no ocean, barely a river, yet Pieter remains anchored to his side while Holle swings back and forth as she pleases, seemingly oblivious to his limited freedom of movement. "So long as it grants us a measure of authority over eighteen young troublemakers, I am agreeable to any tactic."

Pieter sighs and flops on his belly once more, catching a glimpse of Holle's amused smile at his antics. "Did you have anyone in mind? I could ask the guys if they want to work with us." Like Holle, he too has decided to live off-campus this year, but he shares his living space with four housemates.

"I wouldn't mind," Holle shrugs, leaning against her headboard. "Oh, and whatever happened to Madeleine? She would make a fine addition."

Well, what happened was that Madeleine had figured out she was Pieter's rebound after he and Holle decided to end things, and she'd called things off in a rather dignified, mature way soon after Holle left for her semester abroad in London. You are in love, Madeleine had informed him with a smile, but not with me. Of course, Holle can never know any of this. They had been seeing each other for three months when she first informed him she would be leaving for London within a fortnight and planned to make these trips a yearly occurrence, and so Pieter had choked down the words he'd meant to say (being with you is the happiest I've ever been) and had instead agreed with Holle that long-distance relationships are never practical and they were better off starting over as friends when she returned from England.

"She is still around," Pieter says instead, purposely vague. Madeleine is a rather nice person, and they get along as friends still. Her only flaw is that she tends to get over-involved in other people's business and Pieter dreads the thought of her trying to fix his (non-existent; long dead) relationship with Holle. "You are certain you would like her to join us?"

Holle peers past her screen to study Pieter. "Is it alright with you? I would hate to make you uncomfortable."

"Why would it make me uncomfortable?" Pieter fakes nonchalance, wondering in the back of his mind if he has anything to use against Madeleine. A little blackmail in exchange for her silence and a promise not to meddle in Pieter's affairs seems fair to him. "You and I are alright, aren't we?"

There is a moment's hesitation before Holle nods, and it spurs equal measures of hope and worry in Pieter. Perhaps Holle isn't as unaffected by their past as she pretends to be. But does that mean she still thinks fondly of their time together, or does it mean their history makes her uncomfortable?

"Yes, of course," Holle nods belatedly, eyes fixed squarely on her laptop once more. "I'll go ahead and contact her then, yes?"

A thought occurs to Pieter; a memory from a few days ago. "As you wish, Kommissar," He grins, cutting through the unpleasant tension that taints the air between them.

"Damn it all," Holle mutters, reaching for a pillow next to her. "I knew I should have kept that story to myself."

A pillow to his face does nothing to discourage Pieter. And with his frequent use of that stupid nickname in front of their new teammates, it doesn't take long before practically everyone starts calling her Kommissar.

At least it garners her that measure of authority she had hoped for.

"This is ridiculous," Holle pants, collapsing to the ground as soon as she's called practice to an end. Perhaps cramming twenty people into Pieter's living room and making them sing and dance for hours on end was not the best of ideas, but it had been impossible to book one of the campus studios on such short notice. They're really quite lucky to have any place for rehearsal at all. As it turns out, all four of Pieter's housemates had ended up joining them and had offered up their house for rehearsal purposes. And as one would expect from five young men who spend most of their time focused on school, they hadn't yet gotten around to furnishing their living room. It had been easy enough to push aside the TV and a handful of stuffed chairs to clear a space big enough for their use. "We might have to look into upgrading your air-conditioning. Or perhaps we could bring in a few standing fans."

Towering over her, Pieter nods in agreement. "A minute," He holds up a finger, and promptly disappears into the kitchen. Puzzled, Holle follows his path with her eyes for a brief moment before she turns her attention to their teammates as they slowly filter out of the house. Some choose to fall to the ground in a heap of aching vocal cords and sore muscles just as she has, and Holle surveys her ragtag group of singers with a certain sense of accomplishment. It had taken them less than two weeks to fill eighteen spots and organize a training schedule, and today's practice went quite well, taking into consideration that it is only their first. They'll be able to start working on arrangements and choreography for their end-of-semester performance sooner than she thought.

"Here," Pieter appears out of nowhere, offering her a towel.

Holle holds up one end of the towel slung around her neck. "I already have one." She points out.

"But that is not doing much," Pieter sits down next to her and pulls her towel away, replacing it with his offering. It is unexpectedly cold, and Holle yelps at the sudden chill against her neck. The sting soon fades into a pleasantly cooling effect. "Better?"

"Much," She sighs, uncomfortably aware of the curious eyes her shriek has drawn. At least everyone turns away as soon as they realize there is nothing to see. "But what is this?"

Pieter grins. "Frozen towel," He informs her. "I suppose I could have warned you."

"Ass," Holle swats at his arm, putting in only the bare minimum of force required to land a hit. "But thank you. I'll be needing a lot of these throughout the next year."

"I will see to it that you get all the frozen towels your sweaty body desires. That reminds me," Pieter speaks up after a moment's pause between sentences, picking at Holle's discarded towel in his hands. "Where are you going this year?" He can't quite remember where Holle plans to spend her semester abroad this year. She'd gone to London's Royal Academy of Music during their first year, spent a semester at the famed Moscow Conservatory the next and had just gotten back from Paris this summer. Pieter vaguely remembers something about Denmark for this year and a comment about practicing her Danish, as if any of Holle's eight languages need brushing up on.

"This year?" Holle stares blankly at him for a brief moment before it clicks. "Oh, you mean my exchange semester. Well, I can't exactly go anywhere now, can I? Herr Hoffman said our final grade takes into account all of our performances, and I would miss one of those if I were to leave for a semester."

Funny, how that had entirely slipped Pieter's mind. "You mean… you're staying, this year?" Not that it changes anything; even with Holle here for the next year, they'll be graduating soon enough. Pieter has put enough thought into this to know that their lives will probably take them in very, very different directions. Still, it is a pleasant surprise.

Holle nods grimly. "I fear you are stuck with me for the entire year, and I with you. It will be a miracle if we survive with our sanity intact." She jests.

"Intact?" Pieter grins. "Truly, that would be a miracle. I do not believe I was ever fully sane."

"That would explain an awful lot," Holle finally breaks into a smile, bumping Pieter's shoulder with her own. Pieter laughs and pulls the both of them up to their feet, reminding Holle that the day isn't over just yet and they'll be late for a shared class if they don't get showered and dressed soon.

He doesn't mention that losing what little sanity he has left is an acceptable price to pay for the chance to spend the rest of their senior year together, because sometimes Pieter disgusts even himself with his sappiness.

"Shit," Pieter hisses one day, completely out of the blue. They're six days away from their first performance and there is no doubt that they will out-perform the others. Their harmony is perfect, their choreography mind-blowing, their arrangement a number bound to revolutionize acapella. Yet somehow, they have managed to overlook perhaps one of the most basic things a group needs: a name.

"What is it now?" Holle laughs, setting aside her book. Pieter can count on one hand the number of times he's heard her laugh this month, and that makes it all the more precious to him. Their friendship has been a little strained of late, as Holle begins living up to her nickname (a title, now) and becomes every inch the consummate professional, pushing her team to perfection with each barked order, commanding glance and encouraging nod. But the more she pulls back in public, the closer she inches towards Pieter during what little downtime they manage to spend together. It is utterly perplexing and not at all something Pieter is about to question.

Today, they sit with Holle's back to her headboard and Pieter's head in her lap, a book in her hand and a phone in his. His sudden outburst draws Holle's attention, and now she watches him with amused eyes.

"We've completely messed up," Pieter tells her very seriously, prompting Holle to unceremoniously cast him off her lap.

"What?" She demands, crossing her legs as Pieter assumes the same position and faces her. "What could we have missed?"

Pieter pinches the bridge of his nose, exhales heavily, even smacks his forehead with an open palm. "A name, Holle," He points out. "We don't have a name."

Holle laughs, dismissing his concerns. "You melodramatic little actor," She says teasingly. It was just that one time when a friend of his needed an extra in his play and Pieter had a grand total of two lines but damn it, she's never going to let him live that down, will she? Holle stretches back into her former position and even reaches for her book. Pieter watches incredulously, stunned speechless.

"Well?" He demands with a huff. "What are we going to do? We are a week away from our first performance and we can hardly introduce ourselves by our names. There are twenty of us, Holle. It would take forever."

"We have a name," Holle says simply, eyes already focused on her page. She obliges Pieter with a clearer answer and an eye-roll when he motions for her to continue. "Das Sound Machine. It is a fitting name for an acapella group, don't you think? We are a sound machine of sorts."

Pieter gapes at her. "Is that English? And when were you going to tell me?"

"Well, we can hardly expect foreigners to memorize a German name," Holle shrugs. "Imagine the Spanish people tripping over our words when they introduce us at the festival." It is a wonder, how well Holle wears over-confidence these days. But is it arrogance if one has the means to support their claim?

He understands her logic, but then – "Why not The Sound Machine, in that case?"

"It sounds more exotic this way," Holle points out. "People love that. It makes them feel superior somehow, to show off their taste for foreign music." The thought leaves a bad taste in her mouth and causes her to scrunch up her nose for two seconds. People can be unpleasant at times.

"I suppose…" Pieter agrees dubiously, dropping his head back into Holle's lap. From the way she keeps on reading and doesn't make a single move to acknowledge him, one would think she hadn't even noticed. It's a precious thing, this easy intimacy between them. "Have you talked about this with the others?" He asks, picking up his phone once more. If he can just get past this next level…

"Hmm," She hums distractedly. "A few of them have asked, and so we discussed this. Devon has a few suggestions for a logo of sorts."

"Of course he does," Pieter mumbles. Their designated lead beatboxer and Pieter's housemate has a certain artistic flair. His entire room is covered with doodles; they'll have to repaint the walls when they move out.

"He's working with a diamond theme," Holle supplies, turning to the next page. She's almost at the end now, evidence of a day off well-spent. "Something about us taking raw talent and polishing it, I think he said."

Pieter acknowledges her with a contemplative hum, and they let a comfortable silence blanket them as Holle focuses on the last few pages of her book and Pieter makes it through a few rounds of his mind-numbing game. It's relaxing, really, but Holle claims to prefer her method of unwinding. How she rests her brain by reading Russian epics, he'll never know.

When fingers start running through his short hair, close enough to scratch at his scalp, it's a clear sign that Holle has finished her book and her wandering mind allows her hand to do as it pleases without giving it much thought. He's about to suggest that they decide on what to have for dinner when Holle speaks up.

"Pieter?"

He sets his phone down and grants her his full attention, but Holle's eyes are fixed on the window across the room. "Yes?" He prompts her to go on.

"I like what we have," Holle sighs, fingers ceasing their movement in his hair. Her eyes meet his then, and her smile is a small thing but it is bright enough to replace the sun's fading light as it sets. She hasn't smiled at him this way in years. "But I prefer how we used to be."

And then she leans down to kiss him, because leave it to Holle to one-up Pieter's years of hinting and dancing around her by just swooping in and making the (second) first move.

The fact that it's taken her nearly three years to finally close the gap between them couldn't possibly matter less in that moment. And then there's graduation and real life and separate paths looming over them, but Pieter's regretted doing the practical thing and letting her go ever since the day she boarded that first flight away from him. So he kisses her back until the sun sets, and then they have dinner in her tiny kitchen and somewhere along the line, they come to an unspoken agreement to just take things one day at a time because screw practicality and planning and everything that tore them apart in the first place.

Somehow, it all works out. They spend the next year making up for lost time, and then they end up performing together (the German embassy tour, Pieter calls it) for the summer along with DSM (leave it to the audience to come up with something they can chant) and of course Holle manages to talk everyone into giving this an actual shot and competing professionally, thus binding their lifelines together for the foreseeable future.

DSM's origin story might not be much (it was an assignment in university) but urban myth quickly paints them as acapella gods of sorts with Holle and Pieter at the helm of things, playing Zeus and Hera, Odinn and Frigg, Beyonce and Jay-Z.

That last one is Pieter's favorite.

This was supposed to be the first in a series of short one-shots. Ha. I've apparently gotten extremely long-winded overnight, so I think most of these are going to be a mess of too many unnecessary words and too little action. But if you ship these two and you've got the willpower to stick it out and sift through these piles of words, I hope you find a little something in each chapter to make reading this a worthwhile experience.

I promised a few people I'd have this up by last week, so I'm a bit past my self-imposed deadline. It's just been a rough few days and it ended with the passing of my puppy, Theodora. So if anyone needs me, I'll be in a corner, alternating between staring off into space, ugly crying and writing fanfic to distract myself.

E Salvatore,

July 2015.