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You eyed the bunch of flowers and box of chocolates sitting on the breakfast bar from your vantage point on the sofa where you were curled up in your dressing gown. Alone.
The gifts on the side stood there in mockery. Tokens of empty apologies and fake appreciation from the man who claimed you were in his thoughts today, despite leaving you in the lurch.
How many more times were you going to brush off his excuses? Today, of all days, he'd let you down. Again. When were you ever going to find someone who would put you first? You were tired of feeling invisible.
You pressed your face into your hand, squeezing your eyes shut against the sudden urge to cry. It was Valentine's Day, and you'd bought tickets to go see a piano recital show at the Royal Albert Hall, thinking it would be a romantic evening out. When you'd presented the tickets to him, he'd seemed enthusiastic, even mentioning something about booking a table for dinner before the show.
It would seem nothing had become of that, because he was now hundreds of miles away at a conference that he just couldn't get out of. The lie rung bitterly through your mind. For a man so conscientious, the idea of him completely forgetting about such a thing until last moment was ridiculous. But, you'd nodded and smiled, accepting his excuses before burrowing yourself into your duvet with a serious case of the miseries.
One day, someone might actually see you as a real person, and treat you as such. But, it would seem that today was not that day. On a day reserved for lovers, you sat alone with your flowers and chocolates, and the echoes of broken promises.
You opened the app on your phone to view your concert tickets, a lump of sadness forming in your throat to be missing out on such a thing. You had admired this particular pianist for years, something about the way that she played moving you deeply. Music had always been so inspiring and emotional for you, and when an artist came along who spoke to you, you hung on their every note. To witness their craft live was a wonderfully, special thing. You had been so looking forward to tonight.
So, go. You can do it.
You bit down on a nail as that thought drifted through the back of your mind.
You had the tickets. They were highly sought after, too. They'd sold out almost immediately, and you'd been so excited you'd managed to get some. It would be a terrible shame to waste them.
You could go alone. You could get dressed up, go into the city, and see the show. Experience the beautiful music in a venue perfectly designed for such a thing. Who said you needed a man to take you? You could take yourself.
You looked at the clock. You had plenty of time to get ready and go. A thrill of excitement bloomed to life, along with a tremor of apprehension. But, rather than dwell on it, you acted.
You placed your spare ticket back onto the resale section of the app in the hopes that someone else would get a chance to go last minute. Not only that, you kind of hoped that someone would fill that empty seat beside you, not wanting the obvious vacancy to be shoved in your face all night. You'd barely come out of the app to arrange booking a car for your travel, when a notification came through to say the ticket had been sold.
You smiled, taking it as a positive sign, and crawled out of your wallow pit to get ready.
The evening was pleasantly warm but you still wore a pale grey shawl draped about your shoulders over your evening dress. Your heels clicked on the paved walkway that led up towards the Royal Albert Hall, the midnight blue silk of your dress swishing against your legs. You gripped the clutch bag you carried tightly, battling the little bubbles of nerves that popped in your tummy as you approached the doors. It wasn't your first visit to this venue, but it was your first time attending alone.
You sipped at a glass of wine in the bar, politely taking in the other patrons in their evening wear; men in tuxedos and smart suits escorting their partners. In the elegant setting of the bar, it was the perfect aesthetic for a Valentine's Day date. There were even single rose stems upon each table in slim, glass vases. You tried not to look too conspicuous as you sat alone with your wine, but your gaze inevitably dipped to the empty seat beside you and your heart crushed inwards a little. Lifting your chin, you tried to ignore it. You were here for the music above all else. Music never let you down.
As you left the bar to go in search of your seat, you were distracted while checking which entrance you needed on your phone, and you didn't notice the man until you collided with him. Your arm slammed against his as he hurried past you around the bend, making you stumble on your heels. You flung out a hand ungracefully to try and steady yourself, gasping in surprise, but two firm hands caught you at elbow and waist.
"Oh, god. I'm so sorry," he said, ducking his head slightly to check your face. He was rather tall, his hands firm where he held you. He let you go as you straightened, but his hand hovered near your elbow in concern. "Are you alright? I'm so, so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."
You glanced up at him, cheeks flushing in embarrassment at your stumble. "I'm fine," you insisted. You paused as your gaze met his, struck immediately by the softness of his eyes. Lit with concern, his brows pinched with an apologetic grimace, he looked genuinely aggrieved to have bumped into you.
"I er…I'm just as guilty of being distracted," you added, holding up your phone. "I should have been looking where I was going. I'm sorry, too."
His gaze swept over you, his mouth softening into a half smile that hinted at shy warmth. "As long as you're okay."
"I'm quite alright," you nodded, adjusting your shawl.
He nodded as well, rubbing nervously at his mouth with long fingers. "Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."
"Thank you. You, too," you said, taking a slow step backward.
Your gazes lingered, a strange reluctance to part creeping over you. You flashed an awkward smile, realising you were being weird and staring. He probably had a date to return to, and that was what had him hurrying. There was just something about his eyes that had caught your interest, but your curiosity would have to be left unresolved.
You parted ways with your tall stranger, walking in the direction of your designated entrance. The corridor curved due to the circular shape of the building, and you couldn't help but glance back before you went too far, but he'd already vanished into the mass of people moving around. Shaking your head to dismiss any pointless lingering thoughts over him, you found your doors and showed your seat number to the member of staff on duty there. He directed you to your seat and you made yourself comfortable.
The stage view was rather pleasing, an excited smile lighting your face as you took a moment to glance up and around at the splendour of the Royal Albert Hall auditorium. They just didn't make buildings like this anymore. The atmosphere tingled over your skin and you adjusted the shawl over your arms, settling back into your seat. On one side sat an older woman who smiled warmly at you, and on the other, your spare seat sat empty still. You wondered who had snapped up your ticket last minute. As you sat there, you realised you didn't miss your lying, useless waste of space after all, and you were glad you came.
You scrolled on your phone, half listening to the background music being played over the sound system until the ruffle of people shuffling in their seats alongside you caught your attention.
"Excuse me, thank you," a male voice said.
You glanced up at those seated nearby on your row standing up to make way for someone, your mouth parting in surprise to see your tall stranger shuffle along and pause at the empty seat. He looked down at you, his head tilting slightly as a smile curved his mouth.
"Well, hello. I appear to have caught you on your phone again," he said.
You glanced at your phone, shutting the screen off with a slight blush. "So it would seem," you replied, smoothing the silk of your dress over your thigh.
His smile lingered as he bent to check the seat number. He held his own phone up to you. "This is definitely me. Looks like we are seat buddies. I promise not to keep bumping into you, although the leg room looks rather questionable."
He unbuttoned the jacket of his black tuxedo jacket and pulled down the seat, folding himself into it. His knees brushed up against the seat in front and he adjusted his trousers as he got comfortable.
"You fit. Just about," you said, catching his eye.
"The joys of being tall," he grinned. He glanced around at those seated closest and returned his gaze to you. "Are you flying solo, too?"
"Um, yes. I am," you said, tucking a loose strand of hair back. "My date bailed on me."
His eyes widened. "On Valentine's Day?"
A blush warmed your cheeks. "Yep. He's a class act, alright. Actually, you're sitting in his seat."
"Wow, I'm sorry. Definitely his loss, though. In fact, he's done me a favour," he said, those intriguing eyes lingering on you. You met his gaze and he touched his fingers to his mouth, his gaze dipping downwards. "As in, I was hoping to catch a ticket for this performance. I just happened to check earlier and this one popped up. I guess I owe you my thanks."
You smiled. "I'm just glad the ticket went to someone who will actually appreciate the genius."
He had such a lovely smile.
He offered out his hand to you, introducing himself. You eyed the graceful shape of his hand; the long, slim fingers. It was huge compared to yours as you placed your hand into his, the warmth of him wrapping gently around you as he gave a firm shake.
"Nice to meet you," you said, saying his name and liking the sound of it on your tongue. You told him your name and his head tilted as he studied you more closely.
"That's lovely. It's suits you," he said, settling back into his seat. He tapped his fingers against a long thigh, his gaze taking in the stage. "So, do you play piano?"
"Oh, I wish," you said, tipping your head back with a sigh. "It's one of those things I wish I had taken up when I was younger, you know? I feel like I would be a 'too little, too late' starter now, though. I envy anyone who can just sit down and produce magic with their hands, just like that."
You clicked your fingers to emphasis the effortless speed with which some talented people could play.
"I used to teach," he said, scratching a finger along his jaw, a bashful grin teasing his mouth. "If you ask me, it doesn't matter when, or how you start. Just start. I'm also a believer in becoming one with your instrument and finding your own voice with it. Don't worry about comparing yourself to others. Why wait? Do it!"
Your curiosity leapt up another level as you eyed him. "So, you play?" You asked, your gaze dropping to his hands. But, of course. Just look at those pianist hands.
They were rather pretty hands, too. Not that you were looking for that, of course. Just a casual observation.
His smile became almost secretive. "A little."
"What kind of music do you like?"
"Everything," he smiled, his eyes lighting up. "Name a song, and I'll play it for you. Pop, rock, classical, metal…even the weird and wonderful."
"Oh, amazing! You're a polyjamourous type. Like me," you grinned, excitement fluttering in your tummy. He laughed; such a delightful sound.
"Do you improvise?" You asked, your interest piqued. You had turned slightly in your seat, the impending concert slipping your mind for a moment as you focused on him. He had this aura about him that seemed to draw you in. His voice was deep and smooth, but so softly spoken. Whilst he appeared to have a confident manner of speech, there was also an edge of vulnerability about him that was almost endearing to you.
"Of course," he said, turning slightly towards you, too. "Sometimes the best song writing is born out of improv. At least, that's what I find."
"So, you write your own songs? I love that," you said. "Is it a part of your job, or just a hobby?"
"It's my whole life," he said, and he looked deadly serious about it. "I would be nothing without my music."
It hadn't really answered your question, but there was definitely an importance to his words, you could feel it. There was something about the way he'd said it that moved you, something stirring in your chest. Your eyes searched his face, the most unusual sensation that you'd met him before awakening deep inside. But, that was impossible. You were quite certain you'd never seen his face before. You would remember those eyes. They were incredible.
The lights dimmed and a rustling of bodies spread across the audience as they settled into quietness. You shared a smile with your seat neighbour and turned your gaze towards the stage. The pianist walked out onto the stage in a beautiful gown, the spotlight following her as she approached the glossy grand piano. The silence was poignant as she settled onto the stool, seeming to take a moment to prepare before she placed her hands lightly on the keys.
You were transfixed, almost holding your breath as you waited for her to start. You leaned forward slightly, your hand to your chest. She began to play. The sound carried around the auditorium, the acoustics making her music sound like heaven in your ears. You released a soft sigh in appreciation, and on instinct, you turned to your seat companion beside you to find him staring at you.
The look in his eyes stole your breath and a delicate flush began to spread across your cheeks. You felt rather exposed and vulnerable, and you weren't uncomfortable about it, but you were a little flustered at the way your body seemed to answer some kind of primal call that surged through your blood.
"It's so very beautiful," you said in awe, needing to say something to slice through the tension that lingered between you both.
"I couldn't agree more," he said, but he didn't look towards the stage. Not once.
You turned back to watch the pianist, your heart thumping a little quicker. You wondered if maybe the whole adrenaline rush of the evening was going to your head. You'd bravely attended alone, and now you were flirting with the idea that this was like when two people met in a movie. A little fantasy is always lovely, and it would be so easy to get swept away by it. Especially on valentines night. His eyes alone had stolen the moment for you, and the evening wasn't over yet.
But, you had to be sensible about this. He was still a stranger after all. A very intriguing and handsome stranger, but still a man that you didn't know.
But, maybe you wanted to know.
You stole a side-eye glance at him to see him now watching the pianist on stage, his fingers matching her rhythm as they made shapes against his thigh.
Oh, but he really did have such beautiful hands.
As the finale came to a close, the audience were on their feet applauding. You felt rather emotional as you stood, a lump making your throat tight as you clapped enthusiastically. It had been an amazing experience, and you were so glad that you'd made the effort to come. As you glanced up at your seat companion, you realised that you hadn't missed your original date once. Not once. You smiled, clapping harder, your eyes burning a little at how emotional you felt.
You were clapping so hard that your shawl slipped from your arm, the material gliding down your back to pool against the seat behind you. You turned, making a grab for it and missed.
"I've got it," he said, leaning to fetch it for you. He paused, his gaze caught on your exposed shoulder blade.
Your dress exposed rather a lot of your back, and it was why you had worn the shawl. You had a few tattoos, one of which seemed to have caught his eye. He bent to retrieve the shawl, and as he straightened, he took another look at your ink.
"That's a rather…intriguing tattoo you have there," he said, his gaze shifting to meet yours. "A black flamingo. You don't see that very often. The pink flowers surrounding him are very pretty."
"Thank you," you smiled, taking your shawl back from him. "That's Jerry."
"Jerry?" He repeated, amusement curving his mouth.
You nodded. "Short for Jericho," you explained with a smirk.
He didn't seem to know the reference. The tattoo was significant to you; an expression of gratitude and love for a particular music artist, but inconspicuous enough to be only recognised by those who knew what that flamingo and the pink flowers stood for.
His eyebrows lifted. "Oh, now that's clever."
"It is?" You looked up at him, surprised. "Are you saying you get the reference?"
That secretive smile appeared and he touched his palms together as if in prayer, bringing his hands to his mouth. His eyes were utterly compelling. "This may seem rather forward, but I would very much like to take you, and Jerry, out for a drink. Would you like to join me for one before you have to leave? Call it a thank you for giving me the opportunity to come here this evening. I have enjoyed your company."
You stared at him, delighted at his politeness. "I would like that very much."
His eyes lit with pleasure. "Brilliant!" He beamed. He gestured along the aisle. "After you."
The night was still warm as you exited the Royal Albert Hall, but you draped your shawl around your shoulders, smiling shyly as he helped adjust it for you. He was such a gentleman; holding doors for you and using his hand to make way for you when people moved too close. He cut such an impressive figure; tall, and so handsome in his black tux. You wanted to know more about him, completely drawn in by him and the way he made you feel. It felt rather special to be treated in such a way after the neglect of the man who had the nerve to call himself your boyfriend, and this wasn't even a date. The very idea made you grow hot, your hand rubbing at the back of your neck.
You walked a short distance away from the venue, chatting easily with him as he led you down a side street. You glanced around at the grand buildings, the street still busy at this late hour. "Where are we going?"
"I know a place just down here that does specialised wines. Is that okay?" He glanced down at you, keeping pace with you as you walked.
"Sounds lovely," you smiled. "Are you local?"
"Not really, but I do spend time in London on occasion," he said cryptically. "I do a fair bit of travelling, and you get to learn where the best spots are."
The bar was more of a quaint pub nestled in amongst other buildings, the front pleasing to the eye and lit warmly with fairy lights. You entered and found a place to sit, ordering some drinks. It did feel like a date, and you kept scolding yourself for getting carried away with the fantasy again, but it was hard to deny the undercurrent that seemed to flow between you.
It was just a drink, you told yourself.
Two drinks became three, and you were starting to feel a bit giddy, but you were having such a lovely time that when the barman came over to tell you that it was last orders, you felt the pinch of disappointment. You stared into beautifully haunting eyes and realised that the fantasy was about to end. It was time to say goodbye.
"I need to book a car," you said, a little forlorn as you took out your phone.
"Me too, although I will wait with you until yours arrives," he said with a soft smile. He tapped his fingers against the table top beside his almost empty wine glass. "I've had a lovely evening. Thank you for sharing it with me."
"Oh no, thank you! I thought tonight was going to be a disaster. I had intended to spend it wallowing in misery under a blanket with Netflix and wine, but I forced myself to come alone," you said, the alcohol loosening your tongue. You gave him a look filled with far too much longing for a dream that could never be. "You saved Valentine's Day."
"Your boyfriend is a damned fool," he said, shaking his head.
"Yes, well, I can't see him holding on to that title," you scoffed, squinting at your phone as you booked your car. "I've raised the bar and he falls rather short of it."
You snorted in laughter because he was quite a bit shorter than the man seated opposite you right now, and it had been your enticing seat companion who had raised the bar of expectation when it came to being treated well. You glanced up at him, giggling at the enquiring way he was looking at you. You reached across the table to place your hand over his.
"You are quite lovely," you said. "I feel like I should know you. Wait, that sounds weird. I meant…I don't know…I feel like we've met before, but that's not possible."
"Why not? Anything is possible." His hand shifted slightly beneath yours so that he could stroke his thumb along your finger. The touch sent a million sparkles of fire up your arm and you caught your breath.
"Because I would remember you," you whispered. "That all doesn't make sense, does it?"
He smiled, that secretive almost knowing look in his eyes. "Come on, darling. Let's finish up so we can go out and meet your car. It's rather late for a lovely young lady such as yourself to be out alone."
You felt your throat tighten with inexplicable emotion as he slid your shawl over your shoulders, the barest graze of his fingertip sending that searing rush over your skin again. It must be the specialist wine doing things to your bloodstream, but it felt like pure magic. As you met his gaze, you realised how addictive that feeling could become.
The street outside was quieter as you waited for your car, and it was still mild out, but you wrapped yourself in your shawl and hugged your arms close. A silence stretched between you both, punctuated with the occasional glance that lingered, eyes filled with the inevitable parting of ways.
"I'm sorry, I'm sure the car won't be long," you said, gazing down the street.
"I can wait."
Your breath caught at the feel of his fingertips brushing against your hand. You glanced down, slowly moving your hand towards him and he took hold of it. You stared, awed and surprised as he bent to press a kiss to the back of it with lips so soft you thought you might fade away at the mere touch of them.
You swallowed hard, your pulse rushing with a wildness that felt rather freeing.
"May I see you again?" He asked, quietly, a shimmering hope blazing in his eyes.
"Yes," you replied, immediately. You didn't even blink. No thought required. "I would really like that."
His smile was devastating. He took out his phone and opened his contacts. "Put your number in for me. I'll call you, or text…whatever you prefer."
Your fingers shook a little as you added yourself to his contacts, and then you hit dial, your own phone buzzing inside your clutch bag. "There," you said, meeting his gaze. "I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you."
He slipped his phone back into his pocket, his eyes rather intense before he lifted a shaky hand to your face. You blinked, noticing something familiar about the way he reached for you, that strange sense of knowing flitting across your mind again. But, it was obliterated by the feel of his fingers touching to your cheek. You shivered at the caress, transfixed as he cupped your jaw. You could barely breathe, ensnared by his eyes as he leaned forward.
He touched his lips to yours in the most gentle of kisses. There was no sense of demand or aggression, just a pure, soft taste that sent your mind spinning.
He lifted his head, his eyes searching yours and you touched your hand to the back of his where he cupped your jaw. You didn't want this moment to end.
"I have a confession to make," he said, biting his lower lip.
Your heart sank.
Please don't say you have someone. Oh god, please.
"What kind of confession?" You asked, going tense.
He glanced around you along the street, almost nervously, before he let you go. He took a step back from you, his hand touching anxiously to his mouth. He gestured towards your shoulder.
"Your Jerry," he said. "I did get the reference, and I feel like I may have duped you a little. But, it was just so wonderful to have you look at me and not know."
You frowned. "I don't understand."
He nodded. "Let me show you."
He guided you to a shadowed part of the street so that you were both cloaked in the night. You felt nerves begin to flutter awake, hugging your arms tighter around yourself as he placed both hands over the top half of his face. You stared, puzzled. All you could see was the tip of his nose and his mouth.
"What are you…" You cut off with a shocked gasp as he began to sing, his head tilting back at an angle that sent shockwaves of recognition through you. There was no black paint, but the darkness draped him in such a way that it couldn't be denied.
"Won't you come and dance in the dark with me? Show me what you are, I am desperate to know…"
Your mouth fell open at the sound of his voice, goosebumps spreading up your arms. With only his mouth on show, you didn't have the distraction of his eyes, but there was no mistaking what your own eyes were seeing, or what your ears were hearing as he sang Ascensionism to you in the darkness.
"Vessel," you breathed, one hand wrapping around your throat where your pulse fluttered wildly.
He removed his hands, eyeing you warily. He nodded. "Yes. I am Vessel."
You could have screamed. This whole time. This whole time! You'd been sitting with a rock star, a hero of yours. His music had touched you so deeply it had inspired the tattoo on your back, and he'd seen it! He'd known. You were speechless!
And, he wanted to see you again. You sucked in another gasp. He'd kissed you! You touched your trembling fingers to your mouth, where the feel of his lips still echoed with a pleasantly warm tingle.
He dipped his gaze. "I'm sorry."
Your heart squeezed, and you darted forward, your hands grasping the front of his tux. "No," you said, shaking your head. "Don't you say sorry. I should have known. My god, but of course you are him! Look at you! And I knew, deep down; I kept wondering why I felt like I knew you. This whole time I was walking beside Vessel."
"No, you were walking beside me," he said, tapping gently to his chest. "The real me."
You let your gaze travel over him. The shape of his jaw, the beautifully soft dip and curve of his mouth, the way he held himself; and that lovely smile. He was beautiful in an entirely different way without his mask and paint, but you saw him. You had the strong feeling that he saw you, too. He made you feel seen and he did it so effortlessly.
You lifted a hand to his face, stretching up onto tiptoe to kiss him softly, your heart thumping with the wild knowledge of just who you were kissing.
"Don't worry," you promised. "I won't kiss and tell."
He smiled, his fingers stroking the back of your neck. "Buying that ticket brought me more than just the concert," he said, touching his nose to yours. "It brought you to me."
"Have you been waiting long for me?" You asked, a slight smirk teasing your mouth.
His smile widened and he buried his face into your neck, holding you close as he huffed a laugh against your skin. The warmth of his breath on your neck sent a shiver down your spine as you held him back.
"You have no idea, darling," he murmured, pressing soft kisses under your ear, his fingers trailing gently over your tattoo of Jerry.
As you melted into his arms, you realised that this was exactly where you wanted to be. You were meant to come to the concert alone tonight, and he had been destined to be the one to buy your spare ticket. It had all fallen into place as though carved in your destiny. The fantasy could be real. He trailed his fingers over your skin as though to confirm it, the soft sound of your breaths heightened against the backdrop of London at night.
Sometimes when we touch, everything we love resets.