Meant to be read with the piece playing, until he changes.
I stumbled out in my t-shirt and underwear, relishing for the hundredth time at the soft sound of Sibelius Romance Op.24 No.9. He always played especially soft, so as to wake me gently. The piece progressed as I made my way to the kitchen to make tea. Olive meowed up at me, requesting a meal. So precious. I bent down and scratched her ears, hushing her gently so as to not disturb my love on the piano. I lifted her into my arms, "Good Morning."
On the counter I opened her can of food and produced a spoon quietly, scooping it into her bowl as gently as I could and wincing when it made a rather audible splat. He only hesitated for a moment; now he knew I was awake and would probably stop playing soon. That was why I should have started just laying in bed.
Out our view, the reflection of the sun off the apartment windows blinded me and I moved behind a space of wall between the glass to shield myself. Now that he knew I was awake, I sensed that he began to crescendo into the correct volume of the piece and it brought me to. Turning around, I pulled cups down and smiled at the small stream of steam coming out of the pre-heated kettle; he was always one step ahead of me.
I flinched as he moved into the louder, staccato section. The dark chords emitted from the strings complemented with the higher, softer notes. They danced with each other and reminded me of him and myself; his gentle, soft, light being complemented my aggressive, dark one. The thought made me wince inside. I thought it was suppose to be the other way around. What if I was too aggressive, too dark? Nevertheless, it made for a beautiful piece, a powerful one, I told myself. Suddenly, everything became more intense and my hands fell with the bags of green tea in my possession.
I could feel my jaw slack and my eyes travelled to my left. There. His body swayed and I felt myself move as well. I walked towards him, the floor cold beneath my bare feet. His music hit me. I was choking, silently. I moved to the side of the piano just in time to see his stunning eyes close. His fingers played on their own. His dexterous hands played over one another and I walked as quietly as I could. I sat on the fabricated box next to the instrument and rested my head on the piano. My fluffy, wavy strands of hair fell across my face.
The vibrations numbed my head, but I loved watching the hammers fly up and the dampers jump. My brown irises rose. His powerful expression coaxed me to close my own eyes, once my heart began again. A shiver ran through me and I sighed as quietly as I could manage. Unfortunately, it was still too loud and just when the piece got exciting, he stopped.
Silence. I didn't want to open my eyes. No. Please keep playing.
I furrowed my eye brows and made a sound to voice my disappointment towards his actions. Opening my eyes, brown met brown. His fond gaze made me blush a deep red and I covered my face, turning away. There was a shuffling and I heard a familiar tune. My hand shot away.
He was giving me a waiting gaze. Again he played the beginning without braking our eye contact. Without hesitation, I scooted in next to him.
I could feel his warmth seeping through his pajama bottoms and wanted more to curl myself around him again and ask him to carry me to our bed to sleep the rest of the beautiful day away. Nay, having the opportunity to be one with him and the piano was far greater. His bicep bulged against my shoulder, but I tried not to think about how strong he was at such wonderfully innocent and sweet moment. We looked at each other and together signaled the beginning.
Dolly Suite Op.56 rang out through the apartment. It continued on, but I found myself relying on my hands and instead focusing on stealing glances, long ones, more like gazes. A few looks turned into captures, like I was an old camera taking in the light cupping his dark hair and the rims of his dark purple glasses. Or I might have even been a painter, studying the most breathtaking piece of scenery they had ever seen. It wasn't uncommon for me to stare at him, in fact.
The keys cried out at his cluster chords. Before I could react, his full lips were on mine. Next his hands were in my hair. The shock forced my own hands to ripe another scream from the piano. I hardly tried to voice anything, instead I pressed my mouth closer to his. The frames of his glasses dug into the bridge of my nose, but I only recalled it in retrospect. My fingers carded through his dark hair and slide down to cup his strong jaw.
"Good Morning," an exasperated voice echoed from the hall, I recognized Ben's drone. I tried to pull back, however He held me in place. Looking at him through the kiss, he was looking towards the hall, at his long-time friend and colleague. We broke apart and I apologized to the disheveled and sleepy form standing at the other side of the room.
"No worries, it's fine, it's fine. Just ------------ try not to play on Saturday mornings."
He grinned at his sleepy friend and nodded. Ben turned and walked back into his room.
When my head was turned back, steady fingers tipped my chin up into a chaste kiss. I missed his even more when he parted from me.
"You missed a note," he teased. I blushed in shame. "Don't be so shy," said he, nuzzling his nose behind my ear and making me giggle, "just stop staring at me."
"I can't," said I and took the opportunity of his face being so close to give him a quick but deep kiss. He scoffed and rolled his shining eyes, his long eyelashes waving with the motion.
"I'm a little thirsty. Tea?"
"I couldn't agree more."
Adorable
