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His delicate fingers danced along the polished keys of the piano, at first it seemed as though he was uncertain or perhaps improvising the only notes he'd remembered from childhood; but after a few moments, a slow mesmerizing melody relaxed the tension in the air. He'd never heard a tune like that, daresay he never paid much attention to musical instruments at all; even now the one capturing his gaze, his every thought was the pianist.
He loved them.
At least that was his conclusion. Certainly, he cared for his family, his friends but what he'd shared with the pianist could not compare. From the beginning there was the spark, there was tension and pain. Dictionary definition of love. He let out a sigh, emotions were not his forte and he discovered it was difficult differentiating more complex emotions such as jealousy from anger. He did not comprehend irrational judgment, his friends have informed him that he has made plenty during his time on the Deucalion and although he had asked his sister what love felt like; it was something beyond his understanding.
He let out another sigh and relaxed, letting his eye drift close. That was when the magic began, if music was the closest form of magic in their world - the gentle vibrations of the piano filled his senses with something indescribable, a sense of warmth? No, it was as if there was an object weighing his heart down yet at the same moment, he was soaring, unstoppable, a feeling so dangerous but he could only crave for more. More of what? There was a sense of longing, to touch, to kiss, to hold; become one with a mysterious object as if a piece of him were missing but wait? That was a contradiction, wasn't it? How could something make him feel as though he were flying while his chest was heavy, constricted and ached for a piece to complete him? Unless, that was it. Of course, without a shadow of a doubt this was-
"Kaizuka... Inaho?"
He had taken the pianist's hand, shattering the moment.
"You're sly."
He watched as those sharp eyes widen slightly, his mouth dropping open before pressing itself into a thin line; a rosy hue slowly blossomed across the pianist's pale cheeks and he gave him a gentle smile; he was certain now...
"I love you, Slaine Troyard."
The pianist simply groaned, "And I, hate you."
"I see."
.. Life Through Rose-Coloured Glasses.