Blame It On Pride

C h a p t e r Fi f t y - O n e

Y/n's POV:

Everything seemed perfect, well, good enough...

Earlier we have decided to leave on Sunday and currently it's Friday morning, three more days,

Rafe had to fix the bed multiple times, due to us breaking it by...entertaining endeavours, yes...

There was a piano as well, situated in the living-room at the corner where the massive panoramic window was, depicting on the ocean outside, mantlepiece at the front of the room, sofas behind it and some bookshelves on the left,

'Someone in your family plays piano?' I ask whilst brewing the kettle for tea,

'Me.' He tersely responds, not even looking at the piano...

'Really, I've never heard you play.' I taunt,

'Why would you?' He rhetorically asks,

'Would you mind playing it...for me, sometimes?' I ask as he shakes hi head and chuckles dryly, as if it triggered him...

'No.'

'Why not?' I ask,

'It doesn't matter.'

'It matters to me.' I say, tilting my head,

'Listen, if we fucked more frequently, it doesn't mean that you have to play the role of being this supportive-figure in my life, I'm good.' He pushes,

I sigh heavily and shift closer to him on the sofa,

'I know that you're trying to push me away and go ahead, but I refuse to leave from now on, if you'd want me to leave you alone, you certainly wouldn't drag me all the way here, where it's just the two of us...' I mutter,

'Maybe I'll under you.'

'Go ahead, you won't have to fix the bed anymore then.' I respond as he glares t me, disguising his distant grin, but I can see it,

'Years ago, I got into playing piano at school, it was the only place where I got the access, then, some idiot told my father and so he purchased this piano in our home, but once Sarah began to develop her interests, he sent the piano here, claiming that we'd visits this place a lot...we didn't...' Rafe says, he glances at me, as he quickly shifts his facial expressions 'anyways, why would that even matter...' He mumbles, as he attempts to stand up, but I pull him back in,

'It matters and thank you for telling me.' I say as he cocks his head to one side, avoiding me,

'I'm sure that you're still good at it, but you don't have to play it, it's late either way.' I reassure, placing the cups in the dishwasher as we go upstairs...

—-

I open my eyes leisurely after hearing a distant buzz of notes at a great yonder, attempting to cling onto Rafe, I notice that he's not there,

Diving into my slippers and fetching the robe, I pace towards the sound-source, getting closer, I notice that the lanterns above the kitchen Formica are on, illuminating a gentle-warm light that succumbs that certain area, I peek through the corner and notice Rafe...

Topless, just in his grey trousers at the piano, he is playing it and he it sounds majestic...

The soft tones of the song 'Je te laisserai des mots' By Patric Watson, fly effortlessly, I remain leaning against the corner,

'Why aren't you asleep?' Rafe asks, seeming a bit frustrated that I'm awake,

I smile and folding my arms, I pace towards him,

'Why did you stop? It sounds lovely...' I say, he sighs as he gestures for me to sit on his lap,

I do so whilst he wraps his hands around me, continuing the same symphony, his head balanced on my shoulder as I examine the way his fingers ruthlessly flutter against the keyboards, he's good at it, really good...

He then softly clasps my hand and places it on the keyboard, shifting my index, thumb and ring fingers on three specific notes, demonstrating on how and when to press them,

His hand remains on mine as he operationalises my movements my gently pressing on the notes with my hand,

He then begins to play another tune with his own left hand, as once it reaches it's crescendo, he begins to control my fingers, pressing softly,

The soft harmony forms as I chuckle with awe,

On the final notes, he takes my hand and removes it from the keyboard, clasping my waist with his left arm, he finishes off by pressing three final notes at the corner,

Our eyes meet once again,

'You're good at it...' I mutter,

'I am better at something else...' he says, tracing his lips on my cheek...