Chapter Text
Bandit slowly stood up after finishing his silent scream into the self-imposed abyss formed between him and Fido, wiping away the tear that formed in his right eye and dusting himself off the ground. No, he couldn’t say anything that could compromise his true purpose of why he was here at Fido’s party, not yet anyway.
In the corner of the empty guest room, he spotted the concealed worn-down ochre knapsack he had brought with him to the party.
He originally hadn’t planned on being seen by the attractive chocolate labrador, his anxiety and excitement simultaneously spiking through the roof when Fido spotted him shortly after hiding the knapsack.
He gently placed the invitation down and opened the knapsack, revealing a neatly folded obsidian collar shirt, an ivory waistcoat, and a navy-blue necktie that cost him a pretty penny on purchasing it for this special occasion, the moment of no return.
Taking a small sigh, he started buttoning the collar shirt first, knotted the necktie in a Windsor knot, and finally buttoned the waistcoat over his shirt and tie, pausing for a moment to stare at his reflection in the full-body mirror conveniently placed within the guest room.
Though on the outside he appeared like a distinguished gentleman ready to swoon the crowd, he felt like a nervous bundle of nerves encapsulated in a hollow casing of a dog.
‘What if everyone will lynch you after your silly little stunt?’ ‘What if that rottweiler comes again and beats you up dead?’ ‘What if you mess everything up and become a fool in front of everyone?’
These were thoughts Bandit had at least an answer to ease his anxiety, but there was one big ‘what if’ that he couldn’t answer: ‘What if Fido had found someone else and hates me forever after my stupid plan?’
The heeler took a deep breath and willed the thought back into the deep recesses of his brain. He had a plan to execute, and regardless of the outcome, it would be his last attempt at correcting his mistakes, his last attempt at mending things with Fido, the ever-famous musician who was the source of his love, suffering, and motivation to do stupid feats such as this one.
As swiftly as he opened his knapsack so quickly did he conceal it, sliding the invitation back in his waistcoat pocket, steeling himself for the worst and exited the empty guest room, blending in with the rest of the crowd outside.
Fido confidently strode towards the stage where his grand piano was waiting for him, flashing his signature smile and wave directed at the applauding audience that was eagerly anticipating his performance after establishing his dominance in the classical music world; the main reason they attended the first-ever party Fido had hosted since becoming a renowned pianist.
Dressed to the nines in his custom-made tuxedo for this occasion, he was rather surprised he managed to keep it together until this very moment.
From the moment he saw Bandit in that guest room, he was certain he wanted to run away with the dog he desperately wanted, abandon his own party and his reputation as the greatest pianist that ever lived, and start a new quiet life where no one would recognize him, where loving the dog he always wanted wasn’t considered a sin.
The pianist stood over his bench and took a small moment to examine both the crowd and the musical instrument in front of him.
He always found it amusing how a mere chordophone composed of 88 keys divided between 52 white and 36 black keys could capture the heartstrings of a person, and wanted to use this simple observation to his advantage.
He already knew the compositions he was going to play for the audience tonight, and although the compositions were meant to be played in the heeler’s absence, he didn’t mind Bandit being present; in fact, it made things more interesting as the compositions were originally made for him.
If he could not express his love for him in words, he might as well express it through musical notes: the universal language of love.
Despite feeling hurt and betrayed after leaving the guest room like that, he couldn’t deny that he still loved the heeler with every fiber of his being, and the compositions would be his way of telling him just that.
Still filled with apprehension, the chocolate labrador willed himself to calm down and gently sat down and muttered a small prayer, closing his eyes.
He prayed that not only would he perform well, but he would also be able to reunite with the heeler once he heard the compositions, an impossibility after their latest interaction, but a prayer he wanted answered nonetheless.
He opened his eyes and allowed his right hand to hover slightly above the piano keys, allowing his muscle memory to take over as he willfully submitted himself to the music.