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“Have you been playing the guitar for long?”
Jeanne asks, flashing a nice smile while preparing her olive salad for the muffuletta sandwiches she’ll serve for dinner. Her voice is so delicate, but understandable enough for Michael to still respond while he carefully tunes his acoustic guitar.
“Yep. Since I was a kid, my dad taught me everything, and we’d jam together sometimes.”
He says in a cool tone, actively recalling all those times. Now, he rarely performs with a guitar in front of others. There are some exceptions, though. As he glances at the sleeping man, he surely remembers that there were exceptions.
He can admit he’s good at guitar… perhaps less so at singing. He’s not the worst at it, but he’d rather let people listen to the sweet tunes of the instrument rather than his voice.
“Do you mind if I play a little bit?” He tweaks the tuning pegs while plucking a guitar string. Jeanne pops into the frame by the open archway, a bowl in her hands.
“Go ahead! I think that’ll make the guesthouse livelier,” She continues, “Or maybe do it carefully.”
The woman points to Thomas in his casual wear, sleeping comfortably on his back, facing Michael and Jeanne’s direction. It’s only the three of them in the Waves’ Cradle, since Jane and Li are still in the city. He’s glad the weather is nicer that day – the sun bright and shining, but windy at the same time.
Michael plays some chords to one of his favorite songs. He mouths the lyrics he remembers but mumbles the ones he forgets. It was something he’d listen to on repeat for a brief time in his life. He remembers the way Thomas hums to it, unassuming that Michael wasn’t listening, and how he blushed when he realized Michael could hear him. Every single time. It helped him keep focus when he was studying.
The words are still somewhat stuck in his head. Although Thomas won’t hear it, it won’t hurt to practice it. While he says one of the lines to the song, he winces at the unpleasant chord.
“Hmm… let’s try that again.”
His fingers slightly adjust to play the right note. The next lines make the corner of his lips curl upward because it’s always one he associates with Thomas. Michael doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s only because of the way his voice recites it. A velvety one that lets the cold ease into warmth.
As he continues singing the rest, a film of memories floods the man’s mind about Thomas and the guitar. When he’d teach Thomas how to play, their hands always intertwined in some way. How he smiles with each song Michael plays. Michael knows all those pleasantries don’t absolve him of everything he said or did to Thomas.
He still feels sorry about the outbursts, how Michael abruptly left when he didn’t know how to mend the pieces of their relationship that were falling apart. Life decides to split them when they turn out to have different interpretations of what’s next for the two of them.
Then again, not every strummed chord comes out right; some falter in the middle. Some strings even break in the process. Ever since their break-up, he has tried to avoid all those songs. Sometimes it works, but it mostly still finds a way to be engraved into his brain.
But Michael knows some relationships can be mended, the same way guitar strings can be repaired. There’s a simple spark that still lies in Michael’s heart. It still springs low even after a decade, but he doesn’t know what to do. Time has passed, life has changed, and maybe they have changed. Only one remains, remorse and love still bind him to Thomas. Maybe it translates to friendship… or something beyond that.
But would he ever want to break it? Would there be a change?
“One more try can’t hurt. Can’t it?” He whispers to himself so no one can hear.
He strums and strums, letting the sound spread across the room. The warm aroma from Jeanne’s cooking made an impact on him, too. Feeling the notes a little more than usual.
The last few days were continuing to take a toll on him. Aside from seeing the last person he expects, he can’t take the investigation off his mind. The occasional thoughts of them distort the peace he aches for. They follow in his dreams, replaying every potential outcome of the case. Not only is he fighting for success, but credibility is on the line. How can he ever live knowing he could’ve avoided someone’s death? How can he live knowing that he did everything right but it’ll only end the same?
He can’t run away from failure, even if he wants to.
As he continues playing the guitar, Michael stops singing when he hears another voice softly sing along with him. He looks up and shifts towards the right.
“Jeanne, did you say something?” Michael shouts, Jeanne perks her head back in the archway and shakes her head.
“Haven’t said anything since a while ago. Don’t mind me.”
He looks back at Thomas’ direction, but he seems sound asleep. Did he truly sing along? Or did he only want to envision the times their voices effortlessly match while they sit side by side? Looking at each other like they’ll never separate.
Then, Thomas grins– seeming eepy and light-headed, eyes still closed. Michael’s eyes narrow, feeling some form of deja vu.
“You’re awake, aren’t you?”
Thomas keeps up the act, forcefully biting his cheek to stop from smiling further. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath.
“I wasn’t… until you woke me up,” Thomas said in annoyance with a playful hint. Slowly opening his eyes and faking a yawn, “Still playing that song?”
“From time to time,” Michael fiddles with the guitar strings, but the sounds recoil in fear. Suddenly having no courage to speak, he looks down at the floor. He wanted to say that it always reminds him of Thomas; he plays it when the other lives in his mind. But he didn’t want to come off creepy. Maybe next time.
“Hmm… I see,” A slight pause. Hesitant, but Thomas continues, “You’re not so bad at singing.”
Or maybe he’s aware of it. Michael doesn’t pry on others’ moments. He doesn’t let emotion get in the way, for the most part. But now he wishes he could know how Thomas feels or what he thinks.
“I’m glad it’s still on your mind sometimes.”
Michael looks back at Thomas, half-smiling with a glimmer behind his tired eyes. Thomas says it so casually, like he’s warming up to the other man. Like he didn’t refuse to cry on his arms the other day. Michael nods, a faint flush on his cheeks as his guitar strumming picks up its pace.
“Me too,” Michael mumbles softly, getting Thomas’ scoff of approval. He heard it. Even if it was the faintest of sounds, he’d still hear Michael. The soldier carefully switches to the other end of the couch, shuffling his feet to sit nearer to Michael and his guitar. Tilting his head slightly lower, trying to receive Michael’s attention even if he didn’t want to ask.
“Do you have anything else up your sleeve?” Thomas asks, still smiling while leaning further back in his chair. Eyes fixed only on the other man, his hands extend out, but only slightly. Michael chuckles, a low voice echoes through the room. They look at each other for a bit too long as Michael puts on a sad smile, taking in the other’s features further.
Coincidentally, Jeanne walks back into the common area to place a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table. Painting her usual shy smile on her face.
“I hope you do have more. And I made cookies in case you two want something sweet!”
She sits down on the opposite end of Thomas on the couch. While she does so, the man gives something resembling puppy eyes to the other with the guitar. Michael doesn’t like it when people do it, particularly when Thomas does it. Yet he can’t resist. Maybe under different circumstances, he would do something else to experience that provocative gaze up close, much closer than it already feels in the stuffy room.
“Since I’ve gathered an audience, I guess another song won’t hurt.”
Everyone has a grin on their face, and Michael starts strumming the same chords for a new song.
“Oh, I love this song!” Jeanne’s eyes light up in excitement, softly singing along to the melody. Thomas subtly hums as he grabs a cookie, his eyes fixated on Michael rather than the guitar. He can sense both people’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t feel any pressure. That’s what he loves.
It’s a lovely kind of noise that slows their brains down. It’s moments like these when he’s happy to play on the guitar for others. There’s something that feels so warming, something so raw. The three simply sit down and go along with the soothing melody.
Michael hears Thomas finally sing along, and his face flushes a slight red once more. And now Michael’s taken a renewed interest in the man who’s recently awakened. Now that Thomas is willing to hear him again, even if it’s only through spoken lyrics…
Michael can’t go wrong with singing one more song.