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Dd and Ddot had left a while ago, leaving Laney alone in her apartment. During the time she was alone, she was able to shower and clean the mess her brother and friends left behind.
She hummed a melody in her head as she washed her hands in the kitchen sink. She hadn't touched her piano at all today, she realized, turning her head to the sleek back wooden instrument.
With soft steps, she padded over to the piano bench.
There was something therapeutic about sitting at her piano, even if she wasn't playing. Sometimes she gets so into her head that she forgets anything else exists. Your head can be a very dark place sometimes, she would know this better than anyone. Sometimes she feels at war with herself.
Unsure of who she is versus who she allows others to make her. Sitting at her piano silently, the only light is coming from the candle burning on her counter, and she feels disappointed.
Disappointed with herself really, for getting out of character. The words "What have you done?" ring over and over in her head as she thinks back to the words she released at the studio. She hates that she lets her anger control her sometimes and that she lets simple things get under her skin.
But her best friend is a hothead, and he'd never let her accept shit so easily.
She thinks back to Notti getting so protective over her earlier and a small smile twitches on her lips. "God," she thought, "I love that boy."
For as long as she could remember Notti had been one of her many protectors, aside from her father and brother, she'd say he looked out for her more than he did himself.
Her hands raised to gently caress the keys of the piano, like always it was a deep conversation, silent, but deep.
She pressed down on the keys gently, hands flowing effortlessly as she played the piano at a calm pace. She knew she had a history of closing herself off to the world, shutting down, and dealing with her emotions on her own. She was quite literally a hypocrite because she knew she'd never allowed the people she cared for to do the same. But where she lacked talking to others, she had playing her piano.
She loved music, it was a way for her to express herself healthily, probably not drill, but she loved the feeling of sunken piano keys and the trembling bow from her violin. She loved not having to say what was wrong. To express it and not have to explain every sorry detail to another person.
Most people didn't understand her work on a deep level. She couldn't blame them, that's the literal definition of art, "creating something unique." But most people only recognized her for making beautiful-sounding music, never trying to dig deep into its purpose or meaning.
Notti could hear the soft melody of her piano from the hall as he approached her apartment, he gently turned the knob, shaking his head when the door began to open.
