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Your fingers gently caress the keys, unsure what melody you are actually striving to play. You've forgotten how to read sheet music and haven't heard any new songs in a very long time. Even so, whatever you're playing sounds adequate enough for you. It's not good, and your hands are unsteady from years of... things you'd rather not reminisce about.
That's why you come here, after all. This room had remained untouched for centuries, you're certain, until you had come across it while exploring the large house you've come to call home. It had been covered by wallpaper that crinkled away with age, revealing a mahogany door with a golden handle. And inside it, a grand piano and a leather stool.
After that day, you would continue to come back to this room, allowing yourself to clear your head and not worry about the songs you played sounding good. It was refreshing. The fact that no one else in the house seemed to know about it was even better.
You sigh, resting your hands in your lap.
You can't seem to clear your head this time. It's been months since Dark had pulled you from the endless loops of adventures and false feelings the Actor had trapped you within. He brought you to the mansion he inhabited among other men who looked disturbingly similar to... Needless to say, you weren't ready to be around them longer than necessary. Not yet.
You and Dark hadn't had a proper conversation since that day. Once in a while, he would look at you from afar, but never for too long. And he would tell you when dinner was ready. But nothing more.
Frustrated with your feelings, you bang your fists against the keys, grimacing at the horrible sound it creates. It reverberates in your head for a beat, leaving a ring in your ears.
For the first time, slumped over the grand piano, you hear the door creak open. You freeze in your spot, afraid to see if someone's there. Deep down, you hope a gust of wind had simply nudged it open.
Someone clears their throat, then speaks, "I'd forgotten this room was here if I'm being honest."
Dark.
You turn in your seat, the leather squeaking beneath you. You stare up at him, unsure how to respond. His hair has gotten longer, covering his face slightly, and his beard is darker. He's not in his usual suit, simply wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black slacks.
His neck twitches with a painful crack, and he moves to fold his arms behind his back. He then gently nods in your direction and says, "I didn't know you played."
You swallow down the lump of nervousness in your throat, then face the piano again. “I don’t,” you say softly, “but I’d like to.”
The floorboards creak behind you. Dark stands beside you for a moment, then exhales. “May I sit with you?”
You glance at him warily but nod. The seat squeaks again as you move over, and he sits. His fingers hover just above the keys for a moment before they rest in his lap.
“You know,” Dark starts, and you stare at your knees, “you’re allowed to look at me.”
“Sorry,” you mutter. You look at him from the corner of your eye.
“Are you scared of me?”
“No,” you say. “I’ve never been scared of you.”
Dark hums in response, and you both look to the piano keys. “What song were you playing before?”
“Oh, nothing really.” You begin to play the tune that’s been stuck in your head lately, cheeks warming now that you have an audience.
“That sounds like Clair de Lune ,” Dark comments after a moment.
Your fingers halt. “Of course,” you whisper. “That’s…” Damien’s favorite.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. It’s just…” A smile stretches from your lips. “An old friend taught me how to play it.”
You look at Dark. His brow is furrowed, his aura tense, seeming lost in thought.
“Why don’t you give it a shot?” you suggest.
Dark relaxes, snapping out of his daze. “I could try,” he murmurs. “I haven’t played since… I’m surely a bit rusty.”
“It’s okay,” you assure him, smiling softly, though he’s not looking at you.
He hums for a moment, then adjusts himself so he can press the correct keys. You lean more to the right to give him more space. He begins to play the song that you’ve been itching to remember.
His hands float smoothly across each key. It feels like the beginning of spring, a warmth in the air and cherry blossoms falling upon the earth. Like the piece you’ve been missing in your own personal puzzle.
Then his hand slips.
He lets the sour note ring out then fade. His hand clenches with a crack, and you can sense he’s about to give up and leave.
“I have an idea,” you say before he can go. You can’t let him do that, not now. “Let’s play together. I’ll play the keys to the right, and you can play the ones on the left.”
Dark eyes you for a beat, then nods. “Very well.”
He starts the song again with the first two keys, and you feel him peek at you from his peripherals to make sure you’ll follow along. Of course, you do, and the melody begins to flow again.
Your breath quickens, Dark’s hand coming close to grazing yours multiple times as you focus on which notes come next. You both lean in unison when you need to reach keys that are further down, keeping your hands close enough but never too close. Your shoulders touch and the feeling is like a fire blazing, but you continue to play.
His fingers move with grace, in perfect harmony with your own, and when you look at him you see an old friend. The one you’ve always held most dear to you. You see Damien.
The realization alone, that he’s still in there deep down, is almost enough to make you slip up. But you keep going, tears stinging your eyes.
The tune begins to quicken, hammering in time with your heart.
It’s like hearing it for the first time again.
It’s like going back in time, to before you even knew what you wanted to be. Hearing a soft melody playing as you walk down the hall. And your curiosity getting the best of you as you open the door to see a young dark-haired boy playing the piano. A melody like moonlight kissing your cheeks. A melody that brings color into a washed-out world.
And then just as it began, the melody slows. Dark’s breath is shallow in your ear, as yours must be too. There’s an instant where your fingers reach for their respective notes, and your thumb crosses his. In that instant, the song ends prematurely.
But you can still hear its echoes in the back of your mind, Dark’s chin tilting slightly upward. His lashes flutter against his cheekbones before his sharp gaze meets your eyes. His thumb gently brushes against your own, a simple gesture that makes your heart flip.
Then his hand moves, and you’re worried you’ve scared him away, but… No, his hand now rests against your cheek, his dark eyes flitting down. You find yourself unable to breathe as his head begins to lean forward. He stops just before your lips can meet, eyes growing wide. He mutters something that you can’t hear despite your closeness, then he shoots up from the stool so fast that it almost knocks you over.
Dark glowers down at you. You, with a hand still on the piano, chest heaving. He turns to leave, but stops suddenly, mouth falling open just barely. But you notice. Of course you do.
“Will…” he murmurs.
Your head snaps to where he’s looking, and there he is. Wilford.
Wilford’s not being loud for once or spouting nonsense. He’s smiling, and there are beads of tears softly rolling down his cheeks. “It’s just like old times,” he says, voice dripping with nostalgia.
Dark scowls and shoves past Wilford, his footsteps loud and heavy. The intense ringing in your ears remains, even when they're both long gone.
You're left alone once more, staring out into the hallway, stunned.
You try to play the song again, but you've forgotten the notes. You close the piano lid, then stand from your seat. Leaving the room, you close the door behind you.
You don't enter it again after that.