Author's Note
Hey Hoolis,
Sorry for being so inactive and inconsistent. My life has been rather busy for the past few years but there are works on here that I would like to finish. I totally understand if you don't care to read them but, if you do, please feel free to tell me what you think about the stories. I love reading your comments, they almost always make me smile. Last but not least, for all of you who have been here since the beginning, thank you so much for you reads, votes, comments and over all interactions with me. You all have made be a better writer and storyteller over the years; I can see where I started and how much I've grown. You all have no idea how easy it is for you guys to make my day.
I'll do my best to post again soon,
-Jaz
__________________________________________________________________________
As you rouse your brows knit and goosebumps rise on your arms. Car horns, truck hums, and hundreds of other sounds send you snuggling back into the blankets as the chill from outside encourages you. You press your head into your pillow silently wishing for the door to close when a sweet melody blankets the noise. Though it cannot drown out the city noise, it does a good job of ushering it into the background. You squint and reach across the bed to find it empty but, you snuggle back in any way and relax into the blankets. He's probably out on the balcony playing, you think to yourself as you raise your head a little to listen better. The gentleness of the notes nearly replicates the feeling of physical warmth on your skin. You had no idea you were a sucker for artists and musicians until him. The closer you listen you feel the warmer backs of your eyes become.
It Will Rain.
Before you can stop them, tears are spilling out of your eyes washing away the sleep you were just trying to get back to. You sit up in bed and start to dry them but as Bruno begins playing the chorus more tears come. You grab the throw blanket from the foot of the bed, pull it over your shoulders, and make your way over to the single sheer curtain blowing in the chilling morning air. You hold it aside as you approach the glass doors to see Bruno on a loveseat made of a few wooden pallets and two sets of cushions. He's wearing a matching sweat-set, colorful socks, a beanie, and from the straps behind his ears you assume, a face mask. Your slipper nudges the door frame as you approach. Bruno startles and looks over his shoulder. He moves to put his guitar down but you shake your head; he settles back into the seat and you lift your chin toward him. He continues playing. You lean against the railing of the balcony and you just watch. His eyes flicker to you clearly in reaction to the tears streaming down your cheeks but he continues to play. Bruno plays through the final chorus and drags out the notes at the end, playing them slowly, the way a ballad is supposed to be played. He turns to his right and extends his arm until the neck of the guitar reaches the table nearby. He gently rests it there.
"You transposed it," you say as Bruno attempts to stand. He stops and sits again; you wrap your arms tightly around yourself. His shoulders rise and fall slowly as he settles, and he doesn't seem to know where to put his hands for a few seconds. He glances at you then the guitar and sighs.
"Ah no, not me. I saw a video of a kid playing it that way and I thought I'd try it myself." He pushes his hands into the single pocket in his hoodie presumably clasping them together inside.
"On guitar, it sounds different, somehow sadder than on the keys," he comments. His eyes meet yours and you nod; he clears his throat. He pulls his mask down beneath his chin.
"It was about---" you cut yourself off and Bruno nods. He approaches you but doesn't touch you, instead, he stands beside you and looks over the city ahead and below.

YOU ARE READING
Conversations With The Moon (Bruno Mars One-Shots)
FanfictionBruno Mars One-shots written very late at night to the wee hours of the morning. A collection of both spur of the moment singular ideas, dialogue and writing prompts mixed in pieced together with music, love and a dusting of sarcasm for your enjoyme...