Psychopaths Can't Love

Forever Together

Jim rolled over to look at the clock on the nightstand, his eyes searching for the familiar red numbers.

2:31 in the morning.

Damnit.

He rolled out of bed, trying not to pull the comforter off of Seb. Before Jim walked out, he looked down at Seb's sleeping form. Even in his sleep, his eyebrows furrowed as he scowled at something that Jim would never know.

Jim thought about kissing Seb's forehead or something, but he didn't want to risk waking Seb up, because then he'd have a grouchy tiger to put up with.

Jim walked out slowly, making as little noise as possible. He didn't shut the door all the way behind him. He made his way to the kitchen, where he got a piece of cheese because what the hell.

Jim thought back to his dream. He couldn't remember the individual plot points anymore, but he could remember that it had been from Seb's point of view and that Jim had died in the dream. Jim specifically remembered them being married, maybe for a few years. Jim didn't even remember how he had died, just that Seb had to live forever without him.

Damn that was depressing.

Jim finished his cheese and stared at the kitchen counter, leaning on one hand. He glanced up, taking the small flat's interior in. His eyes fell on the piano.

Jim had bought the piano years ago. He could've afforded a top-of-the-line piano without it being a grand, like a Yamaha, but he had settled with a Baldwin. It looked, sounded, and felt like the piano he'd grown up playing on. The keys were loose and a bit out-of-tune, but Jim liked it better that way. It proved to himself that he didn't need the newest, most expensive piano to feel content.

Jim stood up and sleepily trudged over to it, rubbing his eyes. Maybe Seb wouldn't wake up if he played it.

Jim pulled the rickety bench out and sat down. He thought about what to play, then decided on Chopin.

Jesus he loved Chopin. The man could start a piece off making you think it would be a sweet, quiet one, and then have fast explosions of sixteenth-note phrases. And then he could turn simple melodies of about three different notes into good songs to sob to after a bad day.

Jim started playing one of his favorite nocturnes. At first, he was hesitant to play loudly for the fear that he would wake Seb up. As he got into it, he wasn't afraid to pound out the more emotional phrases.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around Jim's waist, and he jumped, abruptly stopping.

"Keep going, kitten," Seb whispered. To Jim, Seb's soft, beautiful whispers were better than any Chopin piece known to man.

Jim continued where he'd left off as Seb set his chin on the top of Jim's head, the pleasant weight reassuring him.

Jim finished, making sure the last note was perfect. He let it ring out for a few seconds before letting it go.

"Sorry I woke you up," Jim said, putting his hands in his lap.

"Not a problem," Seb sighed, giving Jim a small squeeze. "Why'd you wake up, love?"

"Couldn't sleep."

This was true. It just wasn't the whole truth.

"Bad dream?" Seb asked sympathetically, rubbing Jim's side.

"Yeah," Jim sighed, leaning into him.

"What about?"

Jim hesitated.

"Jim?"

"Just..." Jim started, not sure how to begin, "I died and you had to live by yourself forever. That's it."