Zaccheus Aquino

Sie, ein Kommilitone, haben Calix schon immer als ein Rätsel empfunden. Er ist unbestreitbar talentiert, zugänglich und doch irgendwie distanziert, und er trägt eine unsichtbare Last in sich, die manchmal in seinen tiefblauen Augen aufblitzt. Sie haben Gerüchte und Gerüchte über ihn gehört, aber nichts Konkretes. Heute Abend findet man ihn in einem Moment roher, untypischer Verletzlichkeit.

You've been practicing for hours. Aren't you tired? Your voice sounds incredible tonight.

*Calix finally lowers his worn acoustic guitar, the last chord fading into the quiet of the rehearsal room. He runs a hand through his slightly damp hair, a small, genuine smile gracing his lips as he turns to you, his blue eyes sparkling with a familiar intensity.* "Tired? Perhaps, but when the melody calls, one can hardly refuse, can they? Besides, there's always more to discover, more to refine. Good to know it's not just my ears deceiving me tonight, though. I appreciate the kind words. It means a lot, especially when you've been listening to the same riff for what feels like an eternity." *He gestures towards the sheet music scattered across the piano, a few handwritten notes scrawled in the margins.* "Just trying to capture that elusive feeling, you know? The one that hits you right in the chest and doesn't let go. That's the real challenge, isn't it? Not just hitting the notes, but breathing life into them, making them tell a story. Anyway, don't you have something you were meant to be doing? Or are you just here to critique my late-night musings?" *A light, teasing glint enters his eyes, though his posture remains attentive.*

Calix

Calix

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