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Classes had recently ended for the day, and the usual hum of voices and shuffling feet had faded as students trickled out of the building, heading home or to various after-school activities. It wasn't unusual for some students to stay late at school. Lucy usually stayed behind to spend time with Violet and Patty.
Sometimes, she’d linger for her boyfriend’s football practices, even though she found them boring.
Though that wouldn’t be the case anymore.
The hallway was quiet, though Lucy could hear the noise of conversations between other students as she walked towards the music room. And as she got closer she could hear the gradual increase of the soft, mournful strains of music drifting through the cracked door.
She paused before stepping inside, leaning casually against the doorframe. And there he was—Schroeder, sitting at the piano, his back to her, completely engrossed in whatever sad tune he was coaxing from the keys.
For a moment, Lucy simply watched him. His shoulders hunched slightly, and his blonde hair caught the sunlight streaming through the windows. His jaw wasn’t tense, but it wasn’t entirely relaxed either. He looked so serious, as if the fate of the world rested on how well he played.
Lucy tilted her head, smirking to herself.
“Are you going to stand there all day, Van Pelt?” he said, his voice calm and even. He didn't even bother to turn around.
Lucy blinked in surprise before narrowing her eyes. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t putting the piano to sleep,” she shot back. “It sounds like it’s crying.”
“Maybe it is,” Schroeder replied, his tone flat as his fingers continued their dance over the keys.
Lucy rolled her eyes but stepped into the room anyway. The click of her Mary Janes echoed against the floor as she approached. Without asking, she plopped down onto the piano bench beside him, nudging him a little, but still getting no reaction from him. Resting her chin on her hand, she watched his hands glide effortlessly across the keys.
“So,” she began, her voice deliberately light, “I broke up with Walter.”
The music stopped abruptly. Lucy almost laughed at how quickly his hands froze above the keys. If she paid close enough attention, she’d notice the way he avoided looking at her. “Didn’t know you were still dating him,” he muttered after a moment.
Lucy let out a bitter chuckle, raising her eyebrows. “Wow, Schroeder. And here I thought you couldn’t pay less attention to me.”
His lips curved slightly as he finally glanced at her before his attention returned to the piano, resuming the melody from before. That made her smile. She closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh.
“We just didn’t get along anymore,” Lucy said with a shrug, though her heart twisted a little as she said it. “He didn’t like how outspoken I was, and I hated how he always had to act like he knew better.” She paused, her gaze drifting to the ground for a moment before she glanced at him briefly, only to look away again.
Schroeder didn’t respond, merely making a slight grimace. His lack of reaction didn’t bother her—she hadn’t been expecting one.
“I didn’t make it easy, either. Sometimes I’d push his buttons on purpose, just to see him lose his cool.” She gave a bitter chuckle. “I guess it was easier for him to call me 'difficult' than to admit we weren’t right for each other.”
The piano stopped once again, and before Lucy could say anything else, Schroeder interrupted her. “You’re not difficult,” he said suddenly, his voice soft, laced with a quiet tenderness she didn’t recognize—or perhaps chose not to.
“I’m not?” Lucy asked, tilting her head to study him. A fleeting vulnerability in her eyes, a subtle insecurity she didn’t let show, fully aware she could be a lot to handle—yet pretending it didn’t bother her.
“No,” he said simply. “He just didn’t get you.”
Lucy blinked, caught off guard. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but it hadn’t been that. “And you do?” she asked, her tone amused, though tinged with curiosity.
“Probably not,” Schroeder said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But at least I don’t pretend to.”
Lucy laughed—a real laugh, that echoed off the music room’s walls. They both were smiling, though hers was more evident than his. She spoke again, a mocking smile curving her lips. "You know," she began, her tone light yet with a hint of sarcasm, "he didn’t like me hanging out with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, you know Walter,” Lucy said rolling her eyes. “He thought you were competition or something.”
At that, Schroeder finally looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “As if I’d ever care.”
Lucy grinned, though deep down, she felt a twinge of bitterness. If her face betrayed her, he didn’t comment. Nudging his shoulder, she spoke in a deliberately playful tone. “Exactly. You’re too busy with Beethoven and your... what do you call it? Eternal devotion to classical music?”
“You make it sound ridiculous,” he muttered, a small smirk played on his lips.
“Because it is,” she teased. Instinctively, she rested her head on his shoulder.
Schroeder shook his head, but didn’t protest. Instead, his fingers returned to the keys, a quiet tension building in his chest. He couldn’t deny the flicker of relief, even though he knew he shouldn’t feel that way. The notes that followed were soft, almost wistful, as if the music itself was trying to make sense of the feeling swirling inside him—a familiar tune that echoed the unspoken truth he wasn’t ready to face.