BALANCED LUCK

four

☘︎ clover ☘︎

NOVEMBER

A month passed after Beckett's unexpected visit. Every day, like clockwork, he would knock on my door, his smile wide and charming. At first, I was wary of him - he was a stranger after all - but he seemed harmless enough. And I had to admit, I found his company enjoyable.

As the days turned into weeks, Beckett slowly became a fixture in my life. He was always there, ready to drop in whenever I needed company. We would sit and chat for hours, mostly about mundane things - our days, his job, the weather.

I was a little worried about how Atlas and Celeste would react to Beckett's constant presence in my life, but they seemed to accept it without much fuss. I could see the concern in their eyes sometimes, but they never said anything, which I was grateful for.

Tonight, I found myself in Beckett's apartment, sitting beside him at his battered old piano trying to write a song together.

Working on songs with Beckett, writing lyrics and playing melodies on the piano, reignited a passion within me that I had thought lost. There was something about the notes, the words, the way they melded together to create something beautiful, that stirred my soul. With every note we played, every lyric we penned, I was falling in love with music all over again.

It was like a part of me that had been missing was suddenly restored. The music flowed through me, filling me with a sense of purpose and contentment that I hadn't felt in a long time. It was as if the passion for music had been there all along, just hidden beneath layers of memory loss and trauma.

I looked over at Beckett, who was watching me with a satisfied smile. "You're a natural," he said, as I played a few more chords. "Your fingers were made for this."

I blushed at his compliment, not used to such praise. But deep down, I knew he was right. There was something about playing the piano, creating music with my own two hands, that felt right. Like it was something I was born to do.

We continued to work on the song, the hours passing by in a blur of creativity and good company. And as the night wore on, I realized that not only had my passion for music been rekindled, but my feelings for Beckett were growing stronger as well.

I tried to focus on the task at hand, but I couldn't ignore the flutter in my stomach whenever he looked at me or the way my heart skipped a beat when our hands brushed against each other.

The realization that I was developing feelings for Beckett made me uncomfortable, so I did what I had become a master at: pushing down my emotions and focusing on the task at hand.

"Can you teach me how to play the guitar?" I asked suddenly.

Beckett raised an eyebrow at my sudden change of topic, but a smile played on his lips. He seemed to understand that I was trying to avoid something, and he didn't press the issue. "Sure thing," he said, his hand straying to his own guitar which was propped up against the wall.

Beckett set his guitar down on the floor next to his piano and turned to me with a sly grin. "Actually," he said, his eyes sparkling, "close your eyes."

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit bewildered at his request. "Why?" I asked, feeling a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

"Just trust me," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "It's a surprise."

I hesitated for a moment, but then decided to go along with it. I closed my eyes, my heart fluttering a little in my chest.

"No peeking," Beckett warned, his voice playful. I could hear him moving around the room, the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor.