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Despite his love for science, Heisenberg dreamed in treble clefs and crotchets. Werner’s burdens would rest, his problems would quaver, his thoughts would go gloriously flat at the opening notes of a piece of music. But this feeling was particularly prevalent when he was playing the piano. The piano was his solace. Heaven was moving across gilded tiles, sliding his fingers in all ways across the beautiful instrument which was so beautifully familiar to him until he found a notion that was just right. And there was nothing more beautiful than that.
Well, unless Dirac was watching him play.
Few people really got to watch Werner in his element on the piano. He toned it down for social settings. He simplified pieces, made it quieter. But not for Dirac. Never for Dirac. To Heisenberg, to do anything less than his best for Dirac was insulting. Dirac struggled some days. He struggled a lot. Particularly now, being in Japan, a place that he had never known. Dirac tried to hide his utter anxiety but Werner knew his Paul. And it ached him that there was nothing, nothing impactful, that could be done.
~~~~~
Dirac and Heisenberg had just finished an exhausting lecture that took weeks of preparation. They were walking through the To-ji temple and the beautiful gardens attached to it. It was ever so peaceful - smooth stones and lillipads adorned the waters that the two men watched from atop a bridge. The trees were beautifully littered with leaves, and a stray few were strewn across the dewy grass, and a heron settled on a large rock in the middle of the water. Dirac’s eyes widened at the sight of the majestic creature, staring intently.
“Did you know that the grey heron represents rebirth in Japanese mythology?” Dirac murmured.
He was clearly not fully focused, yet was coherent and “there” enough to talk to Heisenberg. Werner always felt so strangely intimate when Dirac was in this state. Checking nobody was around, he kissed Dirac’s cheek tenderly. Dirac instinctively clung to Werner’s arm, he held on so tight yet Werner didn’t mind one bit.
The sun was falling in the sky, creating a dusky purple gradienting into a deep, passionate orange. The shadow of the temple was in the background, perfectly aligned with the sky as a couple of indistinguishable birds flew past. They looked like cranes. Dirac hoped they were.
~~~~~
“Would you like me to get us both something we can eat on the go? We haven’t eaten since lunch,” Heisenberg suggested.
They were walking down a crowded yet painfully narrow Tokyo street. It was almost cinematic - the moon was high, illuminating the sky and Dirac could have sworn Mars was visible. He thought back to his beautifully innocent nights at Göttingen with Oppenheimer when they would lie under the stars for hours. Dirac remembers falling asleep once, under a blanket and being woken up to Oppenheimer carrying him back home. There was a meteor shower that night - he hoped he could experience one with Heisenberg someday.
People walked past, all with different lives, different lovers, platonic and romantic, different days. Dirac was so caught up thinking about the lives of everyone there that he forgot about Werner’s question. Heisenberg timidly tapped Dirac’s shoulder - he hated breaking Dirac out of his trances like this.
“Paul, would you like some food?”
“Oh, no thank you,” Dirac said, leaning close to Heisenberg’s shoulder and feeling strangely intimate all of a sudden. Heisenberg gently brushed Paul’s head off.
“Not here, remember?” Heisenberg whispered sadly. Dirac simply nodded, continuing to walk on.
Suddenly, they saw a man on a piano. He was playing something - Mozart, Heisenberg realised, and he was immediately awestruck. He stopped by the piano for a few minutes, taking in the soft notes and the tune that, somehow paired perfectly with the night sky, the bustling atmosphere and the comfort of knowing Dirac was there with him. He stood perfectly still, perfectly (oddly) quiet for the duration of the piece and Dirac didn’t think he would ever get to witness anything more ineffable.
The piece stopped and Werner headed off again, acting as if that had never happened. However, Heisenberg was not ready to let the moment go. He missed his piano dearly, he realised. He missed his piano terribly. He didn’t tell Dirac, of course. He didn’t like talking to Dirac about this kind of thing, as ashamed as he was to say. Dirac wasn’t good at picking up on small things. Heisenberg was an exception. He saw the way that the ethereal moon reflected in Heisenberg’s wide eyes, and the way his mouth hung agape when he saw the piano, the same way that Heisenberg described Paul’s own eyes when he saw a bird, or the subtle yet simply perfect shine that overtook his eyes when he made a new discovery. He knew he was thinking of his piano back at Göttingen - their home.
Dirac heard the way Dirac analysed the way that the piano was being played, all the way on the walk back home. The finger positioning, the notes being played and even the backstory behind the piece.
And when the two of them settled into bed for the night, Heisenberg snugly lying against Dirac’s chest, Paul knew one thing and one thing only; he was going to acquire a piano for his dearest Werner.
~~~~~
They had a spare day the next day. Werner wanted to one of the markets with Dirac but Dirac lied, explaining that he had plans with Oppenheimer. Werner understood and he decided to stock up on some food for the two of them while Dirac was out.
However, Dirac was not going out with Oppenheimer. Instead, he went to a music store. He hoped that they did rentals. He took a deep breath when he realised they did. Thankfully, the store assistant spoke English. Dirac felt ever so guilty about his Japanese proficiency, or lack thereof, but the trip was so short notice that it was impossible to pick anything up. Oppenheimer could have done it, he joked but sadly Dirac was unable.
He picked out a lovely, high quality Yamaha that looked as close as possible to the one that Heisenberg had at Göttingen. He hoped it would at least suffice. He played the scale that Heisenberg had taught him months prior.
“This is for your friend, yes? You play flawlessly as well! How long have you played?” The store assistant asked.
“Oh, I don’t play properly. I have just had a couple of lessons,”
“You must have an incredible teacher,” The assistant marvelled. Dirac could only smile.
~~~~~
A team of people later, there was finally a piano installed in Dirac and Heisenberg’s living room. Dirac smiled at the accomplishment - it was not an easy task. He could finally relax, he settled on the sofa and waited for Werner to return.
An hour later, the door opened. Dirac came up to Werner and hugged him tight.
“Missed you,” He murmured softly.
“Did you have a good time with Oppenheimer?” Heisenberg smiled.
“Come with me into the living room. I got you something,” Dirac said suddenly, clutching Heisenberg’s hand lovingly. Werner looked confused but followed along, allowing Dirac to lead him along. When he saw the piano, he almost fell to his knees. His eyes filled with tears.
“For you, my love,” Dirac whispered, putting a tentative arm on Heisenberg’s shoulder.
“I went out this morning. Wanted to surprise you. It’s all yours until we go back to Göttingen. I hope I picked out the right model,” Dirac said, and in return got a kiss on the cheek.
“I don’t quite have the words. How did you do it?”
Dirac sighed, chuckling.
“I rented it from a shop and managed to get it installed while you were out. I checked - it’s all in tune. All ready for you to use,”
Werner did not have words. He had so much love in his heart for his sweet, brilliant, selfless Dirac.
“Whenever you are ready, my darling, I would love to hear you play. I have missed it myself,” Dirac whispered. He hugged Heisenberg tight.
Heisenberg walked to the piano. He slowly put his feet on the pedals. His fingers on the keys. The all-too-familiar tunes that were etched in his mind were now burning and itching in his brain to be played. He thought for a second, before going into a beautifully slow rendition of Moonlight Sonata. Dirac stood beside him, admiring the man whom he could not quite believe was his. He could be at a concert hall in Vienna or at a lab in Oxford yet he chose to stay with Dirac. The piece faded to a soft end, Heisenberg dramatically dropping his fingers on the keys for the final chord. He really was lost in the moment. Heisenberg loved his piano, sure; he dreamed of music because touching a bass cleff was something he knew was not tangible. But really, he loved Dirac more. And he did not need to dream of Dirac, did not need to fantasise about him, did not need to fret or quaver over him because Dirac was exactly where he was needed, like the final chord of an elaborate symphony which Heisenberg would watch in awe. And to that symphony, Heisenberg would be the final applause that lit up the hall with a beautifully endearing warmth.