Bête Noire - Chapter Three
Title: Bête Noire (3/?)
Summary: The lives of two geniuses, overlapping and falling apart.
Rating/Warnings: The piano. Enough said.
Fandom: Dollhouse/Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog
Characters: Topher Brink and Billy
Spoilers: Not really. Well...kind of. But not really.
Author's Note: This chapter's kind of short. I apologize for it's shortness.
“To ignore evil is to become an accomplice to it.”
- Martin Luther King Jr.
He was about halfway done with his doctoral program when someone finally discovered his dark, well hidden secret. It was evening, some February night after a particularly long class, in a room he thought he would be alone in. He closed the door, dumped his bag next to the bench and sat down.
His fingers touched the keys. A chord rang out, then another, until eventually the chords formed a song. He played through one, then started again, different chords creating a different song, until he was unconsciously singing along. He stopped thinking, stopped worrying, stopped frantically trying to make plans and just lost himself. Just for a moment.
Billy never claimed to be a musician. He also never claimed that he wasn’t.
And so here he was.
“Nice work, piano man.”
Billy stopped instantly and turned around. “Topher!”
“Is that really all I get?” asked Topher, grinning, “Just Topher? God, I would have expected at least something a bit more dramatic for someone you haven’t seen in months.”
Billy laughed, in spite of himself. “Hi Topher,” he said, “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” said Topher, “Getting a paper published on the conversion of human memory into physical data through the use of waves. Yourself?”
“I’m alright,” said Billy, “I managed to get an apartment so I don’t have to perform morally ambiguous experiments in the middle of a university lab anymore. Now I just steal their equipment and do it in my living room.”
“Nice,” said Topher, “Sucks to be the university, I guess. Their own fault for having morals they insist on adhering to. Oh, and speaking of felonies, I hear a certain Dr. Horrible has been making himself known. Can I now officially claim I’m friends with a supervillain?”
“You can’t claim it,” said Billy, “But yeah, that was me. My first bank robbery. It paid my rent for the month.”
“Congratulations,” said Topher, “You should get one of the bills framed, put it up on your wall. Or, even better, send it to your parents and they can put it on their wall. Billy’s first drawing, Billy’s first book report, Billy’s first bank robbery, what parent wouldn’t be proud?”
Billy grinned, “Glad you see you haven’t changed much.”
“Why would I?” asked Topher, “I’m perfect the way I am.”
“I wish I had your confidence.” Said Billy.
“You don’t need it,” said Topher, sitting himself down next to Billy on the piano bench, “You, like me, are also perfectly fine the way you are, confidence or no confidence, which is not something I say to very many people, or to anyone, really.”
“I’m honored.”
“You should be,” continued Topher, “Only a handful of people, and by handful I mean one, have ever been able to equal me in intelligence, and you, my friend are that handful.”
“I’ve never felt more privileged to be a handful of something,” said Billy, “that came out wrong.”
“I get you,” said Topher, “By the way, in all the time we’ve known each other, is there any particular reason you never me you were also Beethoven?”
“Probably because I’m not,” said Billy, standing up from the piano and heading towards his forgotten bag, “I took piano lessons as a kid, and I use it to sort of wind myself down when I’ve got a lot on my mind. That’s all.”
“Oh come on,” said Topher, turning on the bench to face Billy, “I’ve known plenty of people who’ve taken piano lessons as a kids and can’t even compete with what you just did. And you can sing! What are you, a tenor? You’ve got a great voice, if you weren’t already a supervillain, I would definitely suggest you become the next American Idol.”
“I’ll get right on that,” said Billy, “but please, don’t tell anyone about this. It’s not like I’m ashamed of it, or anything…well, I kind of am, but it’s more that it’s something I do for me. It’s private. It’s not something I really want getting around.”
“Can’t have people knowing the fearsome Dr. Horrible plays the piano and sings in his spare time?”
“Something like that.” Said Billy, seriously.
“Don’t worry,” said Topher, standing up to go and join Billy at the door, “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Billy let out a small, hopefully quiet sigh of relief and picked up his bag. He smiled. “You hungry?”
“When am I not?”
Billy grinned, “Let me just close the piano.”
“Am I going to have to pay again?” asked Topher.
“Dude,” said Billy, crossing the room to close the top of the piano, “I just successfully robbed a bank, do you really think I’m going to make you pay?”
“I don’t know, man.” Said Topher, feigning suspicion, “You are kind of evil.”
“Shut up,” said Billy, shutting the piano. “Let’s get out of here.”
Summary: The lives of two geniuses, overlapping and falling apart.
Rating/Warnings: The piano. Enough said.
Fandom: Dollhouse/Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog
Characters: Topher Brink and Billy
Spoilers: Not really. Well...kind of. But not really.
Author's Note: This chapter's kind of short. I apologize for it's shortness.
“To ignore evil is to become an accomplice to it.”
- Martin Luther King Jr.
He was about halfway done with his doctoral program when someone finally discovered his dark, well hidden secret. It was evening, some February night after a particularly long class, in a room he thought he would be alone in. He closed the door, dumped his bag next to the bench and sat down.
His fingers touched the keys. A chord rang out, then another, until eventually the chords formed a song. He played through one, then started again, different chords creating a different song, until he was unconsciously singing along. He stopped thinking, stopped worrying, stopped frantically trying to make plans and just lost himself. Just for a moment.
Billy never claimed to be a musician. He also never claimed that he wasn’t.
And so here he was.
“Nice work, piano man.”
Billy stopped instantly and turned around. “Topher!”
“Is that really all I get?” asked Topher, grinning, “Just Topher? God, I would have expected at least something a bit more dramatic for someone you haven’t seen in months.”
Billy laughed, in spite of himself. “Hi Topher,” he said, “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” said Topher, “Getting a paper published on the conversion of human memory into physical data through the use of waves. Yourself?”
“I’m alright,” said Billy, “I managed to get an apartment so I don’t have to perform morally ambiguous experiments in the middle of a university lab anymore. Now I just steal their equipment and do it in my living room.”
“Nice,” said Topher, “Sucks to be the university, I guess. Their own fault for having morals they insist on adhering to. Oh, and speaking of felonies, I hear a certain Dr. Horrible has been making himself known. Can I now officially claim I’m friends with a supervillain?”
“You can’t claim it,” said Billy, “But yeah, that was me. My first bank robbery. It paid my rent for the month.”
“Congratulations,” said Topher, “You should get one of the bills framed, put it up on your wall. Or, even better, send it to your parents and they can put it on their wall. Billy’s first drawing, Billy’s first book report, Billy’s first bank robbery, what parent wouldn’t be proud?”
Billy grinned, “Glad you see you haven’t changed much.”
“Why would I?” asked Topher, “I’m perfect the way I am.”
“I wish I had your confidence.” Said Billy.
“You don’t need it,” said Topher, sitting himself down next to Billy on the piano bench, “You, like me, are also perfectly fine the way you are, confidence or no confidence, which is not something I say to very many people, or to anyone, really.”
“I’m honored.”
“You should be,” continued Topher, “Only a handful of people, and by handful I mean one, have ever been able to equal me in intelligence, and you, my friend are that handful.”
“I’ve never felt more privileged to be a handful of something,” said Billy, “that came out wrong.”
“I get you,” said Topher, “By the way, in all the time we’ve known each other, is there any particular reason you never me you were also Beethoven?”
“Probably because I’m not,” said Billy, standing up from the piano and heading towards his forgotten bag, “I took piano lessons as a kid, and I use it to sort of wind myself down when I’ve got a lot on my mind. That’s all.”
“Oh come on,” said Topher, turning on the bench to face Billy, “I’ve known plenty of people who’ve taken piano lessons as a kids and can’t even compete with what you just did. And you can sing! What are you, a tenor? You’ve got a great voice, if you weren’t already a supervillain, I would definitely suggest you become the next American Idol.”
“I’ll get right on that,” said Billy, “but please, don’t tell anyone about this. It’s not like I’m ashamed of it, or anything…well, I kind of am, but it’s more that it’s something I do for me. It’s private. It’s not something I really want getting around.”
“Can’t have people knowing the fearsome Dr. Horrible plays the piano and sings in his spare time?”
“Something like that.” Said Billy, seriously.
“Don’t worry,” said Topher, standing up to go and join Billy at the door, “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Billy let out a small, hopefully quiet sigh of relief and picked up his bag. He smiled. “You hungry?”
“When am I not?”
Billy grinned, “Let me just close the piano.”
“Am I going to have to pay again?” asked Topher.
“Dude,” said Billy, crossing the room to close the top of the piano, “I just successfully robbed a bank, do you really think I’m going to make you pay?”
“I don’t know, man.” Said Topher, feigning suspicion, “You are kind of evil.”
“Shut up,” said Billy, shutting the piano. “Let’s get out of here.”