His red hair shone through all the black, a beacon among the intricately carved instruments and their equally majestic musicians.
Rune dug her fingers into her thigh, trying to stop her leg from bouncing up and down.
Anyone could easily see that music was her weakness. But her boyfriend? Who was onstage? Aerin was a literal death-bringer.
She tried not to drool at how elegant and regal he looked, poised with his viola and trusty bowtie.
Her heart warmed. It was the same bowtie she gifted to him for his birthday a couple years ago.
This was the fantasy that Aerin dreamed of for so long and Rune was glad that he got to relive it over and over again. It made being cramped into theater seats, just a fraction away from suffocating on her neighbors' warring perfumes, worth it. Everything about seeing Aerin on that stage made it worth it.
It was late nights dozing off to his playing. Rainy afternoons hitting up vintage music shops for sheet music. Early mornings coaxing him out of bed with tea on his teaching days. Humid evenings taking a relaxing drive through the backroads, and somehow ending up at the same diner no matter which direction they took.
The fragility of those memories reverberated through her chest, solidifying under the orchestral procession, each note further embedding them into her bones.
Rune closed her eyes and leaned back. The aching undertone of the basses cradling the undulating woodwinds. The violas and violins, pushing and pulling, lifting and holding, falling and flying. The cellos spindling through the symphony, matching the piano in grandiosity.
Knowing someone she loved was a part of that...
Simply put, it left her breathless. This was a high she would never outlive.
But there was one thing even better than the concert.
It was seeing him when it finished. No, not even that. It was the surety that Rune would see him, that she would actually be able to stay with him after the entrancing magic was done. He was a siren, and she, his willing dinner.
YOU ARE READING
Flowers and Weeds (LGBTQ+ One Shots)
FantasyThe longer he stayed in the city, the more those silly daydreams faded. Optimism was not needed in a place like this. So, he kept his fantasies to the confines of his bedroom, seeping them in the nihilistic neon of the city's frayed inhabitants.
