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The melody flowed throughout the halls, piano notes dancing in the air.
It was beautiful. Even from the first floor, Makoto could hear it—in the empty nighttime hallways, the sound could travel as far as it wanted to.
Almost instantly, his late-night snack became something of a second, or even third, priority. His goal now was to find the source of the music, the person playing it. To tell them that whatever song it was, it was beautiful.
Makoto scaled the stairs quickly yet carefully, quiet not to make a single sound that could disrupt the peaceful atmosphere. He reached the second, third, and then the fourth floor in almost record time, slowing his pace only as he approached the music room.
Peeking his head in, he found that the source of the music was none other than Byakuya, situated at the piano. As much as Makoto found his self-proclaimed Ultimate Perfection status to be egotistical, it was times like this where it truly felt as though it was rooted entirely in the truth. His movements were elegant and fluid, each note having purpose. Not a single hair was out of place, even at this time of night.
When the melody ended, Makoto couldn't help but blurt out his praise.
"That was beautiful!"
Almost immediately, his expression was one of guilt—as though he was trespassing on something not meant for others to witness.
Byakuya said nothing for a moment, though it seemed that he didn't acknowledge the other. Not at first.
However, the silence didn't last.
"You don't need to spy on me from the door. There's room on the bench." Once he finished speaking, he continued playing again. It was only then that Makoto realized he had no music sheets in front of him—what he was hearing came from Byakuya's mind.
He took a seat quietly, listening to the music with reverence, watching his his hands dance across the keys.
Makoto was too distracted to notice the gentle glance directed at him, but no matter—the intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on either of them.