Unfulfillable Dreams

Heather's fingers were still not very nimble. Her fingertips seemed to lack the strength to press the guitar strings, especially her pinky, which often slipped, causing the melody to deviate from the sheet music. Yet, she practiced with unwavering focus, as if preparing for a world-class concert.

Despite her awkward and stiff fingers, they shimmered with a faint glow. In that moment, it seemed she had never been bedridden or struck by fate. She exuded a vitality that was captivating.

Broken fragments of the melody intermittently filled the room. Heather tried to hum along with the notes, but the disjointed melody made her singing seem scattered. ♫♪So we come to a place of no return...♫♪ Heather's voice was tender and raw, yet carried a freshness and vibrancy of a first attempt. The sadness between the notes slowly permeated. ♫♪Yours is the face that makes my body burn… And here is the name that our sons will learn...♫♪

The song was only half sung before it broke off again. Heather, undeterred, adjusted her posture and continued playing. ♫♪Curse the beauty, curse the queen...♫♪

It was "Monster," a song Renly had composed during his stay at Mount Sinai Hospital. What truly astonished him was that Heather, after hearing him play it just once, could recreate it by following the sheet music. This was a talent, an innate gift for music and melody recognition.

This was the first time Renly saw a different side of Heather. He was surprised, but more so delighted.

After just half a song, Heather's fingers were already aching and uncooperative. She shook her hands vigorously, trying to regain control, a hint of frustration and annoyance appearing on her face.

Renly could read that slight agitation—wanting to strive but being unable; wanting to fight but getting no response; wanting to work hard but lacking the strength.

That profound sense of helplessness was infuriating, making one want to destroy the entire world; yet it was even more frustrating because there was nothing one could do. In Heather, Renly saw himself, once desperately trying to escape the confines of a hospital bed, but ultimately being worn down by the relentless white surroundings. Slow and cruel.

Heather seemed to notice Renly's gaze and looked up. Their eyes met through the glass.

Heather was neither flustered, angry, nor shy, just a bit surprised. Her flickering eyes quickly calmed down, and she quietly looked at Renly. Her serene eyes held a maturity and coldness beyond her years, making it hard to believe she was only fifteen.

The pain and torment of illness had made her experience a life beyond her fifteen years.

Facing Heather's gaze, Renly smiled, looking back calmly, unperturbed by being caught "watching." It all seemed perfectly natural. Renly then walked around the glass wall and entered the recreation room, asking in the most ordinary tone, "Learning guitar?"

Renly's calmness affected Heather. She paused, then nodded lightly, responding casually, "Yes. But I'm not really a player, more of a singer. The guitar is just for rehabilitation."

"I can tell you're a great singer," Renly shrugged. "Or at least have the potential to be one."

Renly sat diagonally across from Heather and extended his right hand, palm up, in front of her. "I never knew you liked singing."

Heather hesitated for a moment, trying to place the guitar in Renly's hand. But as the guitar was heavy and her wrist couldn't support it, Renly took it himself. "My biggest dream is to join 'American Idol.' Don't laugh at me!" Heather added hastily.

Renly couldn't help but smile, his lips curving up but then pressed back down. "Maybe you can try next year." The minimum age to compete on 'American Idol' was sixteen.

Heather's smile was bitter. She wanted to argue but then gave up. There was no need to explain, was there?

Renly's gaze lingered on Heather, reading the negativity in her. He lowered his eyes to hide his conflicting emotions and strummed the guitar strings. "You should use your fingertips and keep the first knuckle bent at ninety degrees. That way, just a little pressure will get the best result," Renly explained as if teaching an ordinary person, without acknowledging her illness.

Heather watched intently. Those slender fingers gently plucking the notes had a peculiar beauty. Familiar melodies flowed smoothly. It was truly magical how simple notes could be arranged in a special way to create moving melodies that resonate deeply within.

Renly looked up at Heather and gave a signal. She hesitated, missing the first beat, but then steadied herself and began to sing. ♫♪…Throwin' dice in the dark… I saw you late, last night, come to harm… I saw you dance in the devil's arms...♫♪

At first, Heather's voice was tight, missing two beats. But she quickly forced herself to calm down, closed her eyes, and focused entirely on the guitar sound. It felt as if she merged with the melody. Emotions surged, and the world suddenly quieted, leaving her alone, singing at the peak of the world.

♫♪So when you're weak

When you are on your knees

I'll do my best with the time that's left

Sworn with your spirit, you're fully fleshed♫♪

The same song, yet Heather's style was different from Renly's. His rendition was tinged with a faint melancholy and subtle loneliness, while Heather's carried sharp pain like a wedge, slowly burrowing into the heart. The pain rippled out, tightening every muscle to the extreme, yet unable to cry out. Biting her lip, she persisted, as if just a bit more effort would bring her to the other side, but the end was never in sight.

♫♪So fuck your dreams

And don't you pick at our seams

I'll turn into a monster for you, if you pay me enough

None of this counts if you do cloud up♫♪

As Heather sang this line, the despair turned into tears, unexpectedly streaming down her cheeks. But she didn't wipe them away, just sang loudly, freely. Her voice trembled slightly, the pitch wavered, but pure emotions were fully released, filling Renly's heart with sadness.

Heather before him resembled a wounded beast, longing for freedom, chasing dreams. But her scarred body dragged her down, making her stumble and fall, leaving a trail of hot blood, like the whole mountainside blossomed with rhododendrons.

When the song ended, Heather sat quietly, tears welling up again, but she stubbornly bit her lip, refusing to let go. Only this way would the tears not fall again, not exposing her inner fragility.

Renly's fingertips rested on the strings, still feeling their rough texture, while his heart was filled with sorrow. He understood Heather's feelings better than anyone, a soul trapped in a body, firmly bound, finding no escape, seeing no hope.

"You know, I envy you. I really envy you." Heather's voice trembled as her fists clenched tightly, refusing to relax, fearing that even a slight slackening would lead to complete collapse. "I envy you can move freely. I envy you can chase your dreams. I envy you can sing freely. I envy you can stand on stage, conveying the emotions in the melody with your soul, letting others touch your inner softness without getting hurt..." Her voice trailed off, the weight of frustration and anger pressing down, her shoulders slumping.

Renly's eyes grew warm, and he looked away awkwardly. Everything felt so familiar, hitting him unexpectedly.

For a moment, the recreation room fell into silence, with faint melancholy and sadness flowing through the air.

Heather slowly looked up at Renly, her feelings mixed.

Dreams were too distant for her, as reality tightly gripped her throat. Even surviving was a struggle, leaving no time or space to think about anything else. Dreams were a luxury. And Renly? He was chasing his dream of being an actor with all his might. His musical talent was just a hobby. He was so free, so flamboyant, so indulgent, so… free.

"Sometimes, I really hate you," Heather said, breaking the brief silence. But after speaking, she couldn't help but laugh, making Renly chuckle as well, spreading his hands helplessly. "Geniuses are always envied." His arrogant words made Heather roll her eyes, expressing her strong dissatisfaction.

As the smile faded, Renly spoke seriously, "If you want, I can accompany you to 'American Idol' next year. You know, I can broaden my horizons and maybe face Simon Cowell..."

Before Renly finished, Heather burst into laughter, picturing a confrontation between Simon and Renly. She laughed even more heartily. "I think Simon would definitely lose to you. He'd have to resort to petty tricks then."

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Please guys, we need to reach that #1 spot guys and kick out that Tobi Template fanfic....

'huh, what you say?'

'nah bro, jealous? me?'

'even if demon of envy came in front of me I wouldn't be jealous, but I have to say, that the Tobi fanfic does not really des.... Hey! HEY! TURN OFF THE DAMN MIC YOU IDI-'