Work Text:
it was the sound of the piano that woke you, the melody making you turn over in your bed, hand searching for the warmth of andrew’s body. instead, you were met with cold sheets, absent of his presence. the harmony continued smoothly from the other room, floating into the bedroom. you sat up and peered out of the window. the sun had yet to rise, everything cast in hazy shades of blue.
with an exhale, you pushed the quilt that covered you aside, socked feet hitting the cold hardwood. the floor creaked under you as you made your way to the living room, eyes falling to the source of the music.
andrew was sat at the piano, long fingers pressing the keys in perfect unity, loose curls framing his face, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. he looked up when he heard you, the corners of his mouth curling into a small smile.
“hey, honey.” he greeted, voice still raspy. he moved over to make room for you on the piano bench. “did i wake you? i’m sorry.”
“it’s okay. why’re you up so early?” you took a seat next to him and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. there was a notebook on the display stand of the piano, chords and lyrics scribbled on the page in a rushed manner.
andrew pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder. “couldn’t sleep, and i needed to get some writing done anyways. there’s tea in the kitchen, still hot.”
“truly the perfect man.” you let your head come to rest on his shoulder, the soft fabric of his t-shirt rubbing against your cheek.
“you can go back to bed if you want.” he assured you.
“no, no, i’m alright. keep playing, it’s nice.”
he obliged, continuing to play as your eyelids fell shut with a quiet yawn. the birds outside had started chirping, their singing complimenting the notes from the piano. andrew’s process amused you; he’d start humming softly every few minutes and pause, take a moment to write something in the notebook, before beginning to hum again. this method prolonged for twenty, thirty minutes until he stopped.
“you awake?” he’d been careful to move as little as possible as he played, already guilty for waking you the first time.
you rubbed your eyes. “mhm. it sounds good.”
he shifted, his arm laying across your shoulder, fingertips dragging themselves lazily up and down your arm, goosebumps prickling your skin. “d’you want some tea?”
you considered this for a few moments. “yeah.”
with a quiet sigh, you moved yourself from under him and stood, pulling your sweater tighter around you.
andrew led the way to the kitchen, already pouring the lukewarm tea into your designated mug. you sat down at the table as he placed it in front of you with a kiss to your forehead.
he sat across from you, drinking his own as you sipped from the cup gratefully.
“so, ehm,” he began, before clearing his throat awkwardly. “i’ve something i want to ask you.”
you met his gaze. “what is it?”
he’d started playing with the hair tie on his wrist, a nervous habit he carried. “how would you feel about…getting married? someday. to me.”
your heart felt like it was going to burst from your chest. you beamed at him, reaching over to grasp his cold hand in yours.
“yes,” was all you could manage to say, all other words forgotten for a split second. “yes! i wanna marry you.”
he grinned back at you, a small wave of relief visibly washing over him. he brought your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss to the smooth skin. “we don’t have to until you’re ready, love.”
you could feel your expression soften, never unimpressed at just how achingly sweet he was. “andy, if you asked me today, tomorrow, or next year, my answer will still be the same.”
andrew squeezed your hand in response. “well then, will you marry me?”