BEHIND CLOSED DOORS | D.M

043 | apocalypse

The heavy splatter of the downpour batters against the veranda with such intensity that the noise is blurred into a long, whirring hum. The sky is dark, vengeful, with clouds drifting and racing in the sky, thrumming with the energy they desperately need to release. Thunder rumbles in between the calamitous clouds, its vibrating sound fusing with the ripple of the rainfall.

But somewhere between the angry song of the heavens, this melody of serenity echoes. Every note weaves with such beauty that she is completely enthralled by the music. Fingers running over the keys, the legato play is a full contrast to the scenery breaking above their heads.

Kallista is utterly mystified by Draco. By his fingers hitting every key, the harmony reverberating off the walls. By the swift, elegant, professional movement of his digits as a small crease is drawn between his brows, his entire focus transmitted into the chef d'œuvre he is playing.

Golden locks fall over his eyebrows, his eyes closed as he lets himself be immersed in his own world. But with every staccato note, every sharp notes echoing louder and louder, on the verge of evaporating into a legato breeze, lightning strikes in the sky. The storm unwinds itself, the thunderbolt setting the granite sky on fire—each strike in perfect synchronisation with Draco's song.

And finally, the tune softens, but the deluge doesn't come to a halt.

She can feel her heartbeat pick up just at the sight of his devotion. At the sound of his hidden talent. She can feel her chest rise then fall just when the corner of his lips tips upwards.

Blue meets silver from across the room, and her knees nearly threaten to give up on her at the sight of his pearly hues—a stark contrast to the dark illumination of the sky.

Draco is evidently surprised by her presence, but not startled just as if he had sensed her walking into the veranda. His features soften, the line etched between his eyebrows now gone.

"Come here," he asks quietly yet gruffly.

The sound of her footsteps echo on the floorboards, and not for one second do they detach their gazes from one another. As if the world doesn't matter when the other is in the room.

Draco grabs her wrist, gently, pulling her next to him on the velvet stool. Every damn time, she swears she catches on fire whenever he touches her—like he holds a flame in the palm of his hand and she is the fuel he needs to ignite her inferno.

"I didn't know you could play," she whispers, grazing her fingers on the keys before starting to play the tune of Au Clair de La Lune.

"I didn't know you could play," he teases, biting back a wide smile.

"Oh, that's all I can do," she chuckles, her shoulder pressed to his as she drops her hands back onto her lap. "It's nothing compared to what you just played."

He brushes his fingers on the keys, beginning to play a new yet softer melody. "Cassie and I started to play when we were four. She's good at violin, too. We'd compose and play together for hours and hours. That was an original piece you just heard."

Kallista turns to look at the blond, her eyes sparkling with unspoken words, and utter admiration etched on her face. "You're amazing, Draco."

Their gazes collide, and he offers a smile that shows off his dimple. "Thank you."

A great pang grips at her chest because it is evident he isn't used to receive compliments. She sighs softly, careful not to linger her gaze on his sharp, chiselled profile when he turns towards the piano. Slowly, albeit reluctantly at first, she leans her head on his shoulder and he relaxes in a flickering heartbeat.