A/N: Follow up to "Forte." Here's where everything I picked up from Hoskky about metal starts to kick in. =)

There's also a Hitchhiker's Guide reference tossed in, for good measure.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

Grinning, Yuri yanked back and forth on one end of the rope bone he and Repede were playing tug of war with. He kept up a steady stream of pet babble as they played: "You gonna get the bone? You gonna get it?" Internally, however, he was seething. If he had to listen to that pompous, know-it-all housemate of his call his band heavy metal one more time because he couldn't be bothered to remember the difference, they were not going to have a discussion about it: they were going to have a fistfight. It had reached the point where Flynn couldn't play the ignorance card to excuse the things he said anymore. Yuri didn't need him to like metal if he was going to stay, but he needed him to quit being such a fuckwit about it.

Yuri had known that Flynn had his own stuff going on from day one. The guy had just reeked of desperation. He obviously hadn't liked Yuri much, but he'd moved in anyway and his wall of stiff, put-on manners had broken down into an all-out brawl within the first week. Yuri had sort of hoped that would break the tension between them, but Flynn had remained a bundle of raw nerves and anger beneath a thin mask of control. Stupid shit set him off, and it was only because Repede had taken to him so easily that Yuri had given him the benefit of the doubt.

Still, he'd kept picking at him and pushing him. Fights were easier to deal with than the silent, seething tension. Surprisingly, Flynn actually had some martial arts training that made him way more fun to mix it up with than the unskilled brawlers Yuri had tangled with in the past. Besides…Yuri had been curious. Flynn worked his ass off to look like he had his whole life set up just the way he wanted it. Something big was lurking under that surface, and Yuri had wanted to bring it up into the light.

He had been able to make some guesses about Flynn, largely based on gut feelings and personal experience, but he didn't really get any confirmation until the night Flynn'd had his little blow up outside Keiv Rock. The guy had some serious issues, but at least he'd finally seemed to work out what they were. Now, although he was still prickly as hell sometimes, at least he seemed to be trying to get along. It was just really frustrating that he had taken Yuri's reassurance that it was okay to not like metal and turned it into a green light for dismissing everything about the genre. Yuri had let that go and let it go until he was ready to beat some understanding into Flynn. He'd had plenty of time to get his shit together. It was about time he showed a little respect to a fellow musician.

Playing with Repede helped Yuri calm down. He knew that it was impossible to make any headway with Flynn while either of them was angry. Flynn had somehow wrapped Yuri up in his own issues, and Yuri had never backed down from a fight. If they couldn't talk calmly, nothing was going to get solved because they'd just end up tearing into each other. He'd been patient for more than two months, though, and was getting sick of it. Yuri felt he'd been more than fair.

Stumbling as he pulled backward, Yuri went down onto the grass, stubbornly clutching his end of the rope bone. Repede was on him as he fell, growling playfully and still trying to twist the bone out of Yuri's hands while climbing over him. Yuri rolled, knowing that it wouldn't keep Repede off him, and laughed as the dog kept tenaciously after the toy he was trying to tuck beneath his body. As he turned onto his back, he let go of the bone and threw his arms around Repede in a bear hug, going from tug of war to wrestling match instantly. Repede's tail was wagging hard enough to shake them both as he wriggled and squirmed, the toy still hanging from his mouth.

Something caught Repede's attention. He looked up at the house, ears perked, going still. When Yuri twisted beneath him to get a look, he received several wet licks that coated his face in dog slobber. Laughing through his grimace, he pushed at Repede, trying to ward off any further display of affection. Feeling way better than he had when he'd gone out into the back yard, his good mood wasn't even dimmed when he let his head fall back and saw Flynn coming towards them from the back door.

"Need a hand?"

Yuri whistled one sharp note, and suddenly Repede was no longer pinning him to the ground but sitting next to him, tail stirring the grass as it wagged. Dusting himself off, Yuri stood up and yanked up the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. Flynn was wearing a strange expression when Yuri finally looked at him.

"What?"

"Uh…y-your shirt."

He glanced down and grinned. Rather than a band logo, his black tee featured a drawing of the Cookie Monster, head thrown back and mouth wide open, clothed in a black shirt and shredding on a guitar.

"It's a joke."

Flynn obviously didn't get it, but Yuri was no longer surprised by that, nor by the fact that he didn't bother to pursue it. Complete disinterest spoke volumes to how little importance he placed on Yuri's music.

"Listen, I'm not sure what I said before, but—"

"You called Dragon Swarm heavy metal again."

Confusion was a funny look on Flynn, which wasn't a bad thing, seeing as he wore it often enough around Yuri nowadays. With his mouth hanging open just a little like that, he reminded Yuri of a spiky blond puffer fish, a comparison that brought out Yuri's smirk full-force as he tried to hold back a laugh.

"I thought it was."

"No. Like I've said, we're speed metal. Why you don't get that is beyond me."

"What's the difference? Isn't that just a subgenre of metal?"

It was almost a talent the way Flynn could so quickly wear down the patience Yuri was so thoughtfully trying to maintain. He rolled his eyes before leveling a stare at him.

"First of all, metal and heavy metal aren't interchangeable. At this point, it would be a compliment to call you ignorant."

"What is your problem?" They hadn't been standing all that far apart to begin with, but Flynn was pushing right up into Yuri's personal space. "I came out here to apologize and now you're insulting me?"

"When I insult you, you'll know it. Calling you ignorant is giving you the benefit of the doubt. I've had it with you acting like you know everything."

He pushed Flynn's shoulder lightly, just enough to make him sway a bit. Flynn came back much rougher, actually shoving Yuri back a couple of steps.

"You know, I think it would be a miracle if you ever made sense."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you don't know the difference between ignorance and stupidity." There was a sharp edge to his smirk and he knew it. Maybe it was possible for an argument with Flynn to spark change, after all. All Flynn had to do was take the bait…. "We can fix ignorance."

"I've asked you to explain to me before, but you refused to even try!"

"You actually ready to listen now?"

Flynn paused, maybe realizing that he'd been caught. He calmed himself down pretty quickly, but he was only holding the anger back, not letting it go. Yuri could hear it coiled tight in his voice.

"Frankly, I think you're full of it, but if it'll shut you up, go ahead and try to tell me how different metal and heavy metal are."

Yuri rolled his eyes. This crash course was going to be painful, possibly for both of them.

"After work tonight, I'm gonna give you a private show. Then, you and I are going to ZaFest in a couple days."

"ZaFest?"

Every year at the beginning of summer break, the city of Zaphias held a two-day festival over the weekend. The whole of the downtown area, art district, and park was transformed into a collection of food stalls, artisan booths, and musical stages, all featuring local businesses and artists. It was a celebration to display the best the city had to offer and put its diversity on show. There was no way Flynn hadn't heard of it, but his confusion was easy to understand. This was the first year that a stage had been provided for the more underground music scene, and not many people outside the community had heard about it.

"You know the old amphitheater in the park? There's going to be a stage for metal groups and all the poor unfortunates that haven't been categorized into slots that matter. I'm gonna give you a live introduction to some different styles."

Yuri was familiar with some of the groups that would be performing. If Flynn couldn't tell the difference after that, then he really was hopeless.

Working at The Atria had its fair share of perks. The job might demand impeccable service and spotless, uncomfortably stuffy clothes, but Yuri raked in more in tips than the salaried general manger made. Sure, some of the clientele used manners and breeding to be pointedly rude as fuck, but there weren't as many of their type as Yuri had expected when he'd gotten started, and he hadn't yet lost his temper with any of them. The job was the best he was going to get for his situation, and he couldn't afford to lose it. It gave him the freedom to take classes during the week and still practice with Karol and Judy in the morning or afternoon on weekends and on his days off. It definitely paid the bills, and even left him with cash to invest in his music. All in all, he had it better than a lot of people out there, and he reminded himself of that as he went on break, having finally finished with a particularly assholeish customer.

Yuri regularly took his breaks in the kitchen. Working full time afforded him one on-the-house meal a shift, and he could stay out of the way in a corner and eat while he watched the chefs. He liked the barely contained chaos of the kitchen, the practiced rush to get good food out quickly. The head chef was something of a clown when he could get away with it, but he kept everyone else in his kitchen in line and hard at work. Yuri had befriended him shortly after starting, and the Wonder Chef, as he liked to be called, had taken Yuri under his wing. Whenever possible, he showed Yuri how to prepare the dishes he served up, and passed on cooking tips. It was fun and interesting, and definitely beat having nothing to fall back on for meals at home than take out or frozen dinners.

"You look pretty cheesed, Yuri!" The chef laughed as he shook a handful of blue cheese crumbles over a steak before setting it up in the pass and wiping down the edge of the plate. "Order up for 27, one steak, rare, one salmon."

"Guy who just left was on me about everything. Got some risotto for me?"

"I had them make it up only a few minutes ago. It's at the end of the line."

Yuri took his meal and settled against the wall in his corner to eat. He was halfway through his shift. In another few hours, he would have to make good on his promise to play for Flynn, but if he had many more customers like that last one, he wasn't sure he would be in the mood to deal with any more shit.

He wasn't even sure where to start. Flynn needed a basics course but, being a music student, he ought to be able to understand on a different level from most people. Yuri didn't get why it still hadn't clicked for him. There were plenty of technical points and classical influences that he should have recognized. It was like he was actively trying to keep any trace of metal from contaminating that precious, classically trained brain of his.

"Stuck up asshole," Yuri muttered. As recently as two weeks ago, he had still been trying to give Flynn the benefit of the doubt so far as not being a music snob went. Obviously, he'd been wrong about that.

"That customer you were telling the chef about?" Hachette, a buddy from high school that Yuri had recommended for a job with the kitchen staff, leaned up against the wall next to him.

"My roommate."

"Again? You sure can pick 'em, huh?"

Yuri rubbed a hand over his face. "Don't get me started."

"All right. Dragon Swarm playing ZaFest?" The change of subject was less frustrating, but not by much.

"Dunno. Judy's out of town. We've got a slot on Sunday, but whether we play or not depends on if she gets back in time."

"Here's hoping." Hachette preferred a mix of stoner and progressive metal and psychedelic rock, but he caught Yuri's band as often as he could. "You going both days?"

"Wouldn't miss it. The Don's put in a lot of work behind the scenes to get us a venue this year."

"I like him. He's a pretty chill old bird."

Shaking his head, Yuri smiled. Sometimes he wondered if he and Hachette knew the same Don Whitehorse. They lapsed into silence as Yuri ate, which allowed his thoughts to slip back around to the question of how he was going to handle the lesson he'd proposed for later that night. He'd have to run through a basic history, no doubt about that, and get Flynn to lay off the heavy metal label. Aside from that, he needed to get Flynn to listen, and whatever he listened to had to provide a bridge between his musical preferences and Yuri's. He had no idea what to play.

"Dude, if you glare any harder at your food, it's gonna burst into flames. What's up?"

"I've finally got a chance to teach that fiddlehead a lesson, but I haven't decided how. I was thinking that maybe I could play a classical piece, then a rock arrangement of it and something metal—sort of show the evolution of it, you know, but…." Really, he didn't know very much rock. He had practically jumped straight from classical pieces to metal, and never learned all that much in between.

"Hmmm…. I thought you said this guy's problem was with lyrics getting in the way of what the music is trying to tell us."

"That's what he told me." Yuri frowned at his mostly empty plate and muttered: "Don't know if I believe him anymore."

"Well, if that's really the problem, showing him that music can evolve won't help. He knows that already and isn't too happy about it."

"Fuck." Hachette was right. That just wasn't going to cut it. There had to be some way to show Flynn that metal was more than the angry pop he seemed to think it was.

"You gotta show him that the music's going somewhere worth going, you know? Life's a journey, and all that."

Music and journeys…. Something clicked in Yuri's brain and he grinned suddenly.

"That's it! Hachette, don't ever let anyone tell you that you aren't a genius."

"Who'd say something like that?"

Metal as a journey. That was an angle he could use. The stuff Flynn played took the listener on a journey, too. Both his music and Yuri's had mountains and valleys, it had terrain that varied with the progression of the song. It wasn't the cyclic treadmill of pop that could only repeat a couple phrases over and over. It could rise and drop off and change and grow—all in the same piece. That was the similarity he needed: not specific pieces of music, but the fundamental basis for composition.

Feeling infinitely better about life, the universe, and everything, Yuri dropped his plate off to be washed and went back to work.

While Flynn wasn't exactly waiting for him to get home, Yuri could practically feel his attention focus in as soon as he walked through the front door. The sound of the violin that had hung faintly in the air outside cut off abruptly and, although he didn't hear the creak of Flynn's door, he noticed that it stood open a few inches. Light and stillness spilled out into the hall, telling him that Flynn was listening.

If he was waiting for a summons to class, it was going to be a few minutes in coming. Yuri'd had worse nights by far, but he wasn't about to dive right into a one-on-one with his music snob of a housemate after spending the last several hours waiting on garden variety snobs. He needed something to eat and some time to sit and chill.

Repede padded into the kitchen as Yuri was pulling containers out of the fridge and freezer. Yuri gave the dog a quick pat on the head before washing his hands, then set about heating up some dinner. A few chicken tenders left over from the day before got a fresh splash of lime and went into the oven. There was chili to go with them. A couple weeks back, he'd made a large pot of it and frozen portions for later meals. One of those portions got dumped into a pot on a backburner. Yuri got out a plate and fork and fixed himself a glass of water. He grated some cheddar and set it and a pack of crackers on his ancient kitchen table. With some time to kill before everything would be done warming up, he sat down on the floor and ruffled Repede's fur playfully. All the while, he was acutely aware of the expectant quiet coming from down the hall. The absence of sound as Flynn waited to hear that it was time to learn about metal was more distracting than when he practiced with his violin.

Eventually, the silence started getting to Yuri. He picked himself up and washed his hands again before giving the chili a stir. It wouldn't be more than a few minutes before it was piping hot and ready to eat. There was probably enough to share, especially since he had the chicken in the oven, as well. Wondering why he couldn't ever enjoy being by himself for long, Yuri pulled out a second plate and fork, two bowls and a couple spoons and set them on the table next to his plate.

"Hey," he called. "You want some chili?"

The silence got more pronounced and then—Finally! A sign of life!—Yuri heard the creak of old hinges and the groan of the loose floorboard under the hall carpet. Flynn emerged slowly from the hallway, looking for all the world like a skittish animal not sure what to make of the human in its domain. Maybe sharing a meal wasn't something they did…well…ever, but he really didn't have to look so suspicious about the offer.

"Hungry?" It was pretty late, but that had never stopped Yuri's appetite before.

Flynn nodded. "It smells good. Something you brought home from work?"

"You could say that." The Wonder Chef had taught him the basic steps a good while back, and Yuri had worked off that, trading out ingredients and mixing things up with the spices until he'd created a recipe that suited him and his taste buds just fine.

"It'll be ready in a couple minutes."

He nodded again—Didn't he know how to do anything other than nod or fight?—and squatted next to the counter to pet Repede. The dog rolled over, baring his stomach and grinning upside down at Yuri, who smiled back lopsidedly. Although he could tell Flynn wasn't a bad person, he had yet to figure out exactly what it was Repede liked so much about him. Maybe it was the tummy rubs.

When his imagination conjured up a sensory memory to go with that last thought, Yuri hurriedly turned his back to the room on the pretense of giving the chili a good stir. He barely kept from resting a hand over his stomach where he could almost feel the ghost of a caress against his skin.

Fuck. How long had it been since he'd slept with someone? Definitely more than three months. It was no wonder even sarcastic thoughts about Flynn could set him off. The next free evening he got, he would meet up with someone who could help him take the edge off before things got even more awkward between the two of them.

Glancing back over his shoulder to see a nest of thick blond hair, broad shoulders, and what looked like some very nice thighs in those jeans, Yuri admitted to himself that if it wasn't such a hassle looking for someone new to split the rent, he wouldn't have minded giving things a go with his hotheaded housemate.

Thankfully, the chili was pretty much ready. When Yuri pulled out the chicken, he found that it was done, too. As Flynn washed up, he carried the pot and pan to the table and set them down on the battered wooden surface. He didn't bother waiting, but grabbed his bowl and filled it with steaming spoonfuls of chili. Top it with some grated cheddar and an extra shot of Tabasco, and perfection. Piling some onto a cracker, he popped the bite into his mouth and chewed as he forked some chicken onto his plate.

A moment later, Flynn joined him and helped himself to dinner. He added way more Tabasco than Yuri had, and if it weren't for his delighted little smile upon taking that first bite, Yuri would almost have thought he was trying to prove something. Or start something. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd fought over nothing.

"This is really good. My compliments to the chef."

"Thanks."

Flynn stopped chewing mid-bite and stared. Yuri ignored him and continued eating, not bothering to hold back his smirk. Going to college, got a decent paying job, know what the fuck I'm talking about when it comes to music, and I can cook. Chew on that, he thought.

"You said you brought this home from the restaurant."

"Technically, you said that." He indicated the chicken with his fork. "Try that. It's good."

"Did you cook it, as well?"

"Yup. How often do you see me eating out of a take out container or a TV dinner tray? I picked up the basics a while back, but the chef at work teaches me stuff, sometimes."

"I…never paid much attention." He'd been playing with his food, swirling his spoon through the chili, but he looked up suddenly to meet Yuri's eyes. "We've been living together for three months, but this is the first time we've shared a meal, just the two of us."

"So? We've got different schedules and, in case you somehow missed it, we hated each other for a while there."

Frowning, he looked away again. "I didn't hate you."

Yuri laughed a little at that. "I don't really care. You pay your half of the rent on time, so—"

"I don't hate you!"

The table shook when he slammed a hand down on it, and Yuri regarded him quietly. He hadn't forgotten that rejection was a hot button issue with Flynn, but he hadn't thought it would provoke such a reaction coming from the other direction. After all, he was constantly rejecting Yuri's music. Why not Yuri himself?

They continued eating in silence. Neither bothered to even attempt to start a conversation or so much as make eye contact. Yuri slipped Repede bites of chicken and stroked his fur under the table, glad for some familiarity during his meal. When he had finished, Flynn gathered up his dishes and the empty cookware and carried them over to the sink.

"Thank you for the meal."

The words were mumbled but sincere. It was enough for Yuri to shrug off the awkward turn their evening had taken. He brought his dishes to the sink, a little surprised when Flynn offered to wash, but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I'm gonna go set up. Come to my room when you're done, and we'll get started."

He left him there in the kitchen and Repede followed as a matter of course. However much the dog liked Flynn, his first loyalty was still to Yuri. It was more reassuring than it should have been, but Yuri had never known Repede to take to someone as quickly or as well as he had to Flynn. He was Yuri's best friend and, until three months ago, had been a one-man dog. Yuri didn't like the thought of that changing.

Although he'd said he needed to get set up, there wasn't really much to do. He pulled out both guitars in their cases and dropped to sit on the edge of his bed. Repede climbed on behind him and curled up against the wall. The amp was sitting just within reach, with a couple extra picks dropped on top. He probably wouldn't need his CD player. If Flynn did well with this introduction, they could move on to finding him some bands to listen to another time.

Impatient to get started, he rocked on the very edge of the mattress until Flynn came in, looking around uncertainly until Yuri patted the rumpled covers in invitation. After a few moments to let him get settled, Yuri jumped right in.

"All right. First off, metal—" he drew a large circle in the air with his arms to emphasize what he was saying. "—is all of it: heavy, speed, death—everything. You can't call Dragon Swarm heavy metal, because that isn't what we are. That's like saying the fiddly stuff you play is, I don't know, easy listening, or something."

When Flynn frowned and started to interrupt, Yuri grinned. "Pisses you off a bit, doesn't it? You've been doing that since you moved in."

"I didn't mean—"

"Didn't mean doesn't matter. Learn now and we'll forget it. Deal?"

He nodded. "All right."

"Okay, then. Let's see…. I'll give you a quick and dirty run down of the major types of metal so you get an idea of where it's coming from. If it helps, think of it as one of those progressive line chart things."

"A continuum?"

"Yeah, sure. What are you grinning for?"

"Normally, you have a more-than-ample vocabulary."

"What can I say? I'm a wordsmith. Anyway, metal started with heavy metal. It pulled a lot from hard rock and eventually a few groups picked up the pace a bit and came up with speed metal. That's the basis for Dragon Swarm. We've got a little more melody than some of the other stuff down the line, but we incorporate some elements from other genres. After speed came thrash. They wanted everything to be harder, louder, and faster. Metal was starting to go kind of commercial around the edges, you know? So thrash was partly a reaction to that. Death metal got started next, and black metal, too. Actually, a bunch of offshoots started springing up and it gets a little confusing, so I won't overload you right away. Think you get it so far?"

Flynn quickly ticked off on his fingers the subgenres Yuri had listed. "Just because I can name them in the order they surfaced, doesn't mean I know what makes a difference between them."

"We're getting to that. When you're a beginner, you start at the beginning."

He caught the flash of bitterness across Flynn's face. It had to have been a long time since anyone had called him a beginner. More than that, his pride must be smarting over the fact that Yuri was teaching him about music. Really, it was a wonder he was submitting to it. Privately, he had expected Flynn to make up some excuse to back out of the lesson.

"The next thing I want you to understand is that the music both of us play isn't as night and day as you think. A lot of the early pioneers of metal took cues from rock guitarists who were influenced by the classics. See where this is going? There's a decent amount of classical influence throughout metal."

"You were playing 'Fur Elise' that one time. I didn't really think too much about it, but…. Were you classically trained?"

Yuri considered him for a moment, not particularly keen on getting too much into the story of how he got started playing music. He did need to demonstrate what he was saying in a language Flynn would understand, though. With a shrug, he flipped open the latches on Anemone's case and pulled out his acoustic guitar.

"I learned from the guy who gave me this. He started me on the classics, but it wasn't like that was the only thing I learned from him."

"Is he the one who taught you to play the piano, too?"

"No. Back to what we were talking about—"

"Who was your guitar teacher? Was he a tutor, or did you attend a school?"

"That isn't why we're here."

"I'm just curious. I don't normally get to hear you play except when you're with your band, so of course I'm going to be interested to hear that you can play different types of music."

"Look, do you want to learn about metal, or about me?"

The answer to that should have been a very quick: "Metal." Instead, Flynn jumped a little and sat back, his gaze suddenly everywhere except on Yuri.

Well. That was interesting. Yuri smirked. He'd rarely seen Flynn flustered without a side of spluttering anger backing it up. Was he finally starting to chill out?

"What's her name?" Flynn's voice was soft, but the question still came as a surprise.

"Huh?"

"Your guitar. What's her name?"

Looking down at the instrument that fit so comfortably in his hands, Yuri stroked his fingers fondly over the sounding board. "Anemone."

Flynn's eyes locked with him, confusion wrinkling his brow. "Like the sea creature?"

"Like the flower."

The confusion faded from Flynn's expression, and Yuri watched him let any further questions go. He had been satisfied by a response that didn't come anywhere near to telling the whole story, not that Yuri would have explained any further. Anemones carried the meaning 'expectations.' Although Yuri didn't perform with the guitar he'd gotten from Niren, he hoped with every song he wrote and every appearance he put in with Dragon Swarm that he was doing his teacher proud. Niren had…. He'd given Yuri an awful lot.

"Where the hell was I before you dragged me off-topic?"

"Classical influences."

"Right. Have a listen."

Yuri started playing. Flynn shouldn't recognize the particular arrangement of the piece, but he ought to be able to hear something familiar in the way it played out. It took a bit more concentration than he'd expected to draw out the notes he wanted, but they still came to him, slowed a bit to make it easier for Flynn to study the way they changed. It had been a while since he had played anything from a power metal group, but they tended more towards an orchestral sound, and he wanted something that bridged the gap between Flynn's taste in music and something that trusted its message to words as well as chords. He didn't actually sing, though he knew the lyrics. He wanted Flynn to be able to feel this out in his own way.

"That's…. The structure isn't quite right, but…. What are you playing?"

Flashing him a grin, Yuri picked up the tempo a bit. "Power metal."

"That isn't metal."

"Wanna bet?" He ended with a flourish and tucked Anemone carefully away before reaching for his other case. "This," Yuri said, pulling out his electric guitar, "is Old Scratch."

A smile spread slowly across Flynn's face, and Yuri knew he'd gotten the reference. Truthfully, the name was another nod to Niren. He was the one who had taught Yuri "The Devil Went Down to Georgia," an enduring favorite, and Old Scratch was a folk name for the devil. Flynn didn't need to know all that history, though.

"That sounds more your speed," he said.

"Just listen to this and try to tell me that piece isn't metal as hell."

Grinning, he plugged in Old Scratch, turned up the amp, and launched back into the sequence of music. He played even faster this time, slowing up only occasionally to draw out certain notes like enthusiastic cries. More comfortable now that he'd played through a section a couple times and switched to his customary guitar, Yuri let himself slip into the music and follow its story through, rocking a bit on the edge of his mattress as the guitar wailed and shouted through the amp. This was one of his favorite songs from when he'd first gotten into metal. It was strange how long it had been since he'd played it, but the music was still there with him and he welcomed it back like an old friend. Maybe it wasn't all bad that he was having to provide some special tutoring.

Although he could play the whole thing, the effect wouldn't be as helpful to Flynn's understanding without the accompanying drums, bass, and keyboard. Yuri played through a couple changes in the melody, anyway, letting the arrangement of power chords and chromatic sequences hint at the rest of the music that ought to be joining in. There was a progression to this song—and so many others—that owed a lot more to classical influences than the verse-chorus-beat-repeat format that pop music chained itself to. If Flynn could only hear that, then maybe he would finally get it. Maybe he would finally see that metal had its own messages, and that, even if they weren't pretty, at least they transcended the lyrics and were a product of every note and instrument, of the entire experience a song was meant to capture.

Yuri finished strong, the final sequence of notes recalling and uniting the theme that had linked all the other portions of the song. Coming out of his immersion in the music, he knew he would have to play the CD for Flynn later to give him the full experience. Metal went places other music didn't. It wasn't some "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" crap like pop music: do this, do that, do the other; do one thing, do the next, then another. It was a journey. It was The Odyssey: epic and poetic, a narrative searching for what mattered through the deep and the dark and the indescribable.

The big question was: Would Flynn be able to understand that?

"So? Any interest stirring in that classical brain of yours?"

"You're asking me to reconsider the merits of an entire genre based on one extended guitar solo."

"I've got CDs. And there's always the festival. You're coming, right?"

"Do I have a choice?"

A month ago, that would have been the opening shot of an argument that could easily have ended with both of them throwing punches. It said a lot about how much more relaxed Flynn was that he could say it with a smile and without malice. Yuri grinned back at him, excited for the chance to share his music.

"None whatsoever. Grab my CD player. I've got a couple groups you need to hear."

Flynn groaned a little, but he was still smiling faintly as he did as Yuri had said.