#bach feels

Bach didn’t speak much when he first awoke. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he just couldn’t. Every time he would open his mouth, incoherent sounds came out. Which was something, considering that the first thing he did when he emerged from the pod was state that he was Bach. It must have taken every ounce of effort the man possessed since he was still reeling from being conscious and being aware that he had a past life to begin with.

The lab coat was his only clothing for the first few days. Not out of cruelty, but because finding something that he would willingly wear was a challenge, not to mention finding something that would actually fit him. Jeans and a t-shirt were met by a firm shake of the head. Kyougo was the one who suggested getting old fashioned clothes. He also had the idea for a wig, but that was more of a joke, really.

Each article of clothing was held up along with the wig. The self proclaimed composer grasped them like a lifeline. He looked quite dignified when he was dressed, even with the small patch of skin that showed above the boots. When Kyougo came in the lab wearing a pair of sunglasses, Bach couldn’t take his eyes off them.

“You want them?” the scientist laughed as he held them up. The other man nodded.  

It was shortly after this that Bach would frequently shadow him. Mitsuru interacted with him as well, but it always involved a tablet and words that weren’t meant for socializing and comfort. Kyougo for his part didn’t wave the man away or try to avoid him. In fact, he helped him process the many wonders of this new and modern world. So many things were new and yet, some things had never changed. The things that didn’t change were what upset him the most. He wanted, needed something to distract him.

The picture frame on Kyougo’s desk was the only source of bright, cheery color in the lab. Bach gazed at it for a few moments and was about to ask, but his Creator beat him to it.

“That’s my daughter, Kanae.”

“Daughter.” Bach repeated the word.

“In terms of looks, she takes after my mother and a little of her own mother, but I think she has my eyes.” He laughed. “She’s very mature for her age. Always minding me like a mother hen.”

Bach smiled at the thought. “Maybe you’ll meet her one day.”

“Perhaps.”

There weren’t enough distractions. He tried composing. Joy and feelings that could only be described as negative blended together. He wanted to feel the keys of an organ under his fingers.

“Kanae doesn’t play the organ, but you’d think she did the way she goes on about it.” Kyougo commented, drawing Bach out of his thoughts. “My family home has always been about music you could say.”

Music. Purpose. Delightful, wonderful, torturous purpose. A need. A goal, but how to achieve that goal? A blinding flash of an almost otherworldly bright light. Musik. A gift. The light he craved. Kyougo gave him this. He also gave him a promise.