Work Text:
Gliommoux closed his eyes as the song he selected began playing softly from the orchestrion. An old, familiar tune. One that, once upon a time, he had learnt to play on the violin. One that, once upon a time, he had learned to dance to.
One that, once upon a time, he had confessed his love to.
Raising his hands into the air, he positioned them to appear as if he was about to lead a dance partner about a ballroom. If anyone were to see him, they may think it odd - after all, his hands were much higher than most maidens would be able to comfortably reach. Yet it was natural for Gliommoux. After all, to practice for the one you love, you must be aware of where your hands should be on them.
Step by step, Gliommoux swayed his way around the room, eyes closed all the while; the music soothing his heart of years old aches that he had long since thought to have healed.
But of course, the heart can never truly heal from such a deep wound from the one you held most dear.