Work Text:
“I’m home!” Lumine slipped her shoes off at the doorway. She tapped Aether on the head in greeting as she stepped past the piano where he sat working.
Waltzing into the kitchen, she tossed her purse onto the island, sagging against the counter. “Today was the worst! You know, I thought it’d be nice to see everyone again. It’s been so long…I wanted to see what everyone had come up with lately. Get some feedback on that one piece we’ve been writing recently. Maybe a couple ideas on how to close it out…But…”
“Oh!” A smile split across her face. “They liked a lot of the harmonies we went with so far. Especially the chord progression you wrote for the chorus; they loved it! The bridge could use a bit of work though, but they had some pretty good ideas for it…We were going to go over what to try—"
Silently and suddenly, the excitement died. From its grave, anger rose instead, snarling. “But then, out of nowhere, they didn’t want to talk about the music. They kept going on and on and on about how I was doing. Asking stuff like, if I’d made sure to file taxes on ‘your behalf’, or if I’d notified everyone—I don’t even know!”
Lumine’s chest heaved. She paused to glance at Aether; he hadn’t moved an inch from his place on the piano bench. He always listened to her without interrupting. She loved that about him. He contained nothing less than endless patience.
“And what’s it matter to them if we haven’t finished writing the ending yet? We’ll be done whenever we feel it’s ready. If it’s not ready, then it’s not ready. What’s so hard to understand about that? They’re artists too. How do they not get it?” Her nails dug into her palms. “What’s the point in having other composers for friends if no one wants to talk about what matters? The music!”
A dissonant screech cut through the house. Lumine’s gaze snapped to the window, her glare cutting into the thick forest. A tree shuddered under the weight of the wind, branches scraping against the windowpane.
“They even said that I needed to move back to the city. That I should be around more people. It’d be better for me.” She rolled her eyes, flashing reddened sclera. “They know we moved out here for inspiration. We can’t leave yet; the piece isn’t done.”
She couldn’t see anything past the greenery of the trees that trapped their home inside, severed from the rest of the world. It was better this way. They could get their work done in peace, away from all the others who didn’t take their craft seriously.
A stray thread poked out from her sweater’s sleeve. Scowling, Lumine pinched it between her fingers and tugged. It stayed. She tugged again. It unraveled without an end in sight, taking another row of the knit with each of her successive pulls. She yanked and yanked until the yarn dripped from her arm as a limp line of red, pooling on the floor. She spared the pair of kitchen scissors a glance before balling up the mess of threads and burying it into the opening of what remained of her mauled sleeve.
Huffing, Lumine poured herself a glass of water and took a seat on the piano bench beside Aether. The sheet music for their latest piece stood on the music rack. “Sorry for interrupting you. I know you’re hard at work on writing the ending.” She patted him on the back. “How’s your day been? Better than mine, I hope.”
Aether didn’t reply.
Had she upset him? Rambled on too long? No. He never cared that she was prone to tirades. Was it something she had said? Lumine gnawed on her bottom lip as she replayed through everything that she had said. She eyed him carefully, hoping to pick up on his little tells. But she received no hints.
He remained focused on the music, like a true composer.
Oh. “You know, I don’t care if it takes us a while to finish this. They might not get it, but I do. Creating something great takes time.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. He didn’t shrug her off. “Rushing’ll get us nowhere. Just…ignore what they say. That’s what I do.”
Lumine read over the sheet music, humming each note that Aether had penciled in. She slowed, falling out of tempo, as she neared the empty measures, a future unwritten and unfinished.
“You know, Aether, I’ve been thinking lately. On how to end this. They’re not as popular, but why don’t we make this a canon? A repeating one. Rounds are beautiful too.” Lumine picked up the pencil from the piano’s music shelf. “Granted, ours’ a little more complex than the usual round, but it takes out the need to write a coda.” She drew in a repeat sign at the end of the measure Aether had left off on. “Easy. We’ll simply start from the beginning and play until we hit the repeat.”
She looked down at him, waiting for him to object. He used to scrutinize her input back then. Nowadays, he went along with her ideas without protest. Still, out of habit and respect, she waited to make sure he didn’t have an issue with her proposal.
When no comments came, she lifted him from the bench—he wasn’t heavy—and hugged him close to her chest. She shivered as the chill of his body crept into her hands. “We’ll pretend the double bar line doesn’t exist and keep on going. Until we can’t play anymore.”
Smiling, Lumine brushed her nose against the cold metal of the urn. “Right, Aether?”