Our Symphony (jlyke)

II

Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven
1st movement
...

I watched the pianist in front of me grow shocked- I could sense his confusion, which made my face grow a little more serious as I drew my hand away so I could fold my arms again. "I'm dead serious by the way," I huffed at him, watching some sort of realization wash over his face. "I want to hear it now, tonight, in the music room," I watched as his face scrunched up a bit, seemingly in distaste.

"Are you crazy?!" I heard him whisper shout at me, and I jabbed at his chest with my pointer finger. "If being crazy makes you say yes, then I sure as hell am!" My anger from some stupid argument I had only faded a little after I played earlier today and went out to eat with my friends, who continuously told me how much of an idiot this musician standing before me is.

I watched his face relax, growing to be slightly annoyed but also defeated, as if he had just been convinced by a child to do something for them. "Fine, let's go," I couldnt help but blink for a moment as he pushed my hand away from his chest; he had changed his mind so quickly that it took me a moment to register that my hand was pushed away. I looked up at him, watching his copper eyes catch my own from over his shoulder.

"Are you coming or not?" I clenched my fist for a moment, and I felt the scowl grown on my face. "Of course I am, idiot!" I started jogging after him, watching his brows knit together once I got next to him. "You know, I'm the one who agreed to do this," I watched his gaze fall in front of us as we turned a corner. "The least you could do is not be an idiot."

From that point on, the walk was quiet. Feeling this awkward tension in the air as we walked was so annoying. I hate when things get awkward, especially whenever I was trying to get somewhere only I wanted to be. I quickly had that one thought, one that I usually do when people agree to do things with me, especially when I know they don't like me.

why did he agree to this?

It felt like I was blindly following him at this point, opening every door for me with ease. He was just so naturally quiet when walking during the night, and it seemed like he knew it too. I blinked for a moment as the next door opened- it was a little creaky, and there was a piano near the center. Thinking of this dark-haired boy playing the piano in this room...

it's so surreal

"I haven't been in this room with someone other than Sera for a while..." I heard a timid voice come out from underneath his breath- he seemed so nervous underneath his skin. I couldn't help but let out an annoyed huff; he's a master pianist, it's so insulting to think he'd be nervous! If anything I should be the nervous one here, not him.

"Well," I watched him flinch and turn back to me. "Are you gonna play or not?" He looked a little hesitant, and I was about ready to force him on that piano if that's what it takes- "Sorry, I spaced out for a second," I furrowed my brows when I noticed how conflicted he looked. I was ready to push him on again, though I froze when he sat in front of the piano on his own.

"I'm ready." even as he acquiesced, I noticed how his posture was that of an experienced player, his hands approaching the keys with an unspoken professionalism. However once i watched his face when he brushed the keys slightly... he looked like it was nostalgic. what a weir-

then his fingers hit the keys.

His movements were so fluid and gentle, like he was lost, and the listener was growing lost alongside him; he was coaxing such beautiful melodies from that piano- was it that beautiful when I walked in here? No, I don't really think it was... maybe it's just him, the way his experienced movements graced the piano in a way I've never seen before.

Every time I hear someone play, it's like they are either good or they are bad; I never really get to look into their expression unless I know the person, but this pianist... He is the total definition of emotional. It's like he has his heart laid out on display, like he couldn't hide a single thing from whoever was listening.

This isn't the pianist from earlier today.

In contrast to his nonchalant expression, his playing was very melancholic... he really was passionate on a whole new level. He was so quick to accidentally knock over an overflowing cup without knowing it happened to spill at his feet, and every second that he played the more I was drowning in it. My chest was growing tight, and it felt like tears could spill down my cheeks at any moment...

He sounds so damaged

Watching the gentle glow of the night make the dust in this old room look like faint stars surrounding him... They complimented how lonely and endearing he looked when touching those keys, how the moon complimented his features perfectly, showing off his graceful form. I knew exactly what I thought of him that moment, the things I'd found...

The pianist made from woe and sorrow,
The pianist who was shrouded in the dark of night,
The pianist who's only true spotlight was the glow of the moon,
The pianist...

no, he's much more than all of that.

His eyes landed on mine, and I don't know how I didn't notice this earlier. His gaze was always so deep and profound whenever our eyes would meet, yet there was a thin layer of copper covering it all up. It took me a moment to realize the song was over; it felt like I was still lost, finding my way back once I saw him stand up, turning to face me. His next choice of words left me in complete and total shock.

"Let's play together next time"

...