PurpleMike - The Piano

The Best Remedy For A Man Is Another Man.

First of, please keep in mind that I didn't contacted with my dearest corrector yet so this can have a few (or multum) mistakes. Besides that, enjoy!

***

Mike was standsing in the kitchen, empty staring at the wall.
He was deeply in thoughts, rubing his sore shoulder. He doesn't even knew if it's the muscles or skin. That doesn't matter.
Although the apartment was cool, he was standing in his boxers and wasn't cold. Not that usually he feel something like „cold" anyway.
He sighed softly and closed his eyes.
He felt exhausted, but couldn't sleep.
For a moment, he was wondering if not arrange himselve for a long walk or jogging, but comes to the conclusion that it is too dark and too late for such trips. Not that he was afraid, he knew how to manage in almost any situation. He just didn't want to hear another prosecution of the police and definitly didn't want to test their patience.
So he opened his eyes, suddenly peering into the darkness to whom, in fact, he already used to.
He didn't turn the lights on. It was fine this way.
He was thirtsty.
So Mike went into the kitchen, yawning excruciatingly. He noted cup with liquid in it on the table and could guess that it was Vincents, because he recently didn't drink anything hot.
Before he raised the cup, he watched it from all sides, trying to remember what might be inside. He realized that switching the light would solve the situation, but he still prefered stucking in the dark.
It was definitely better.
His lips touched the edge, and delaied only a moment before tilted it and cold liquid poured into his throat.
Coffee.
Very bitt coffee.
He winced a bit, because always prefered the sweeter things, but still finishes. Then wiped his mouth, but further felt bitter taste.
It reminded him Vincent.
Indulging in memories, he sucked his lip, feeling the metallic taste of blood.
He foul-mouthed silently, holding a strong desire to break the damned cup.
Because it reminded him Vincent.
Vincent, who drinked this fucking strong coffee, because without it, he wouldn't be able to function normaly before noon.
Vincent, who in a fit of passion too heavily chewed his lip.
It hurted.
But fuck, it was sexy.
Mike pushed the cup in the sink, trying to focus on something else.
But how to focus on something not related to Vincent, since every place, every thing in the apartment was related to him?
Mike groaned of embarrassment and rubed his pinching eyes. He heard a sound, the sound of movement coming from the bedroom and completely frozed. Mike didn't want to wake up Vincent, because he felt that he'd eventually collapse into the ground if PurpleMan'd see him now. So he just quietly sneaked around the couch and laid down on it.
It was cold and finaly this maked chills go through him. Mike catched himself of thoughs to return to his (well, almost his ...) warm bed, but quickly rejected them.
Vincent was in the bedroom. Maybe warm, but Vincent.
So he looked at the ceiling and thought.
How he ever gotten in this relationship?
He'd impose, that it started in the office, like everything. Then it was too fun to just finish back then and later, with a fucking miracle, they went so far to live together, not killing each other. He couldn't say that they had exemplary „relationship", or although a medium one, but ... It was somewhat pleasant ... Pleasant?
Mike had no idea whether it's whatever the right word, but he also didn't knew how it could be determine otherwise.
Pleasantly? Good?
Blank synonyms of the same no matching meaning.
That was the deal.
It had its pros and cons, true, but it still was just a deal. More system rather than a relationship .
Vincent could theoretically be less Vincent, but Mike did like him in this way more, although, he wouldn't admit to it even under threat of death. Even though Vincent immorally just pissed him off, that was... Different. Just different. Nothing saying so perfect word.
Oh, and certainly not boring.
Mike glanced to the side because he felt oddly with his own thoughts ... And he immediately noticed the black piano. He almost laughed, because he had forgotten about its existence, but further remembered to be quiet. So instead of it, he smiled wryly and standed up. Mike though that was the first time when he approached so close next to the instrument and certainly the first time watching it so closely. He sitted down beside it and touched the cover, collecting the dust.

It was quite interesting ...
Mike though that now he could pretend a little to be Vincent, but he wasn't childish enough to introduce this „plan" into reality.
So insteed he opened the cover and touched the sure keys. All his life he claimed that playing on something is stupid. Besides he hadn't too much patience and he far too quickly surrendered or become nervous. Now, however, he quite regreted. He knew that he can't create anything ...
He can only destroy.
He reliesed on his knee and gently pressed a single white key. Immediately after the sound aproached him, Mike realized what he just did. He frozed and started to listen, but again no strange sound occur to him. He sighed softly, now really tired.
"Can't sleep?" Mike jumped surprised, almost falling off the chair ... It certainly wasn't his voice.
It pissed Mike off, but before he could open his mouth, Vincent put finger on his lips. "Remember that it's something after three in the morning". He smirked lightly. Mike instead of answering, catched Vincent's hand with all his strength, keeping the mortuary face. He heared shooting bones and this calmed him down a little.
"Don't. Sneak. Up. To. Me. Ever." He hisseed finally, slowly and quietly, and then let go. Vincent automaticly started massaging his hand in silence and continued looking at Mike, apparently seeking further answers.
"I couldn't." Mike finally admited, turning toward the white and black keys. Vincent embraced him from behind, resting head on his shoulder and Mike comfortably leaned, relying on, as it turns out, totaly naked torso. He can't stop from rolling eyes.
"Please tell me that you're wearing pants."
"I do." Vincent purred in Mikes neck, slowly rolling up his T-shirt, touching newfound skin. "Yet." He chuckled at his own joke, his breath passing Mike's jaw.
"Stop that." Mike is assertive, even though he felt quite well. He was too tired, all he wanted was just a little bit blissful nap.
"Getting rid of the energy is the best way. ~"
"I'm already off my energy, I just want to sleep." Vincent frozed, then let him go, muttering something like "shame". Mike again, for a moment, felt cold, but Vincent sat down next to him, and he was extremely warm. Mike was surprised and suspicious, because that 'docility' wasn't rather inconsistent with the nature of always smiling psychopaths.
"Playing improves my mood." Said Vincent, grinning, and he just rolls his eyes again. He pulled his feet and puts them on the Vincent, settling more comfortably, and Vincent just draws him closer to a movement full of possessiveness. "This is it, huh" Chuckled Vicnent, gracefully pressing the keys. "From the beginning?"
"Shut up."Mike said sharply, however, put his head on Vincent's and slightly shuted his eyes. "Just a little bit."
Vincent noded, though for him it already wasn't noticeable.
Then Vincent began to play.
It was a slow and calm melody, so terribly similar to those played by him through so many lonely nights when he also couldn't sleep.
And now he was so strangely calm, patient.
Despite the fact that he almost always liked to play and always loved to live in the same insanly way, it now felt differently ...
It was strange and completely unfamiliar feeling, giving him heat and something like a melancholy. He was so weirdly pacified.
Vincent though it was a whole new situation, and smiled slightly under his breath, but this time not as usual. This time it was normal smile, because he just felt that he can't hold back any longer.
He thought that becomes sentimental, but pays no attention to it whatsoever.
He ended melody and tilted his head curiously to heard this distinctive breath.
Mike felt asleep. He felt asleep on him.
Vincent again believed that it was quite strange, because he thought that he just did something good for a human... And for Mike Schmidt.
I'm getting old, he thought while furtively looking at the sleeping Mike.
Because Vincent thought he loved him ... He loved him on his own, totally twisted way.
But love is love anyway, right?
He put his cheek on Mike's head and also closed his eyes. Somehow he didn't want to move now.
"What have you done to me?" He purred quietly, feeling drained. He realized that once they wake up, totally every part of their body will hurt and probably they will feel uncomfortable with this situation, and even possibly fight, but still, he let himself carried away.
And slowly felt asleep...