The Piano || 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬

|43| The quicker, the better.

Author's note from November 20, 2024-
> Y'all. I just watched the „How Did We Miss This!? | Hell Week Reaction 2024" video, and they saw my comment, I'm actually tweaking rn lmaooo (plus, Sam called my username a „fucking cool name". If that's not a flex, I don't know what is) (It's at around 4:58 btw)

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The atmosphere was comfortable. Ashley felt good, talking with the two boys, just about life in general, but also about more personal topics. She felt relieved because it really was possible for her and Colby to look past everything that had happened. It was possible to just have a fresh start.

Weirdly enough, relief wasn't the only feeling that awoke in her. There was also a hint of missing the moments spent together as a "couple". The times she had managed not to think about for the past two months. Two months it had been since the last time they had spoken as an official couple.

She caught herself studying his expression more than once. Just staring at his hair, his smile, his eyes... He never caught her, or at least she hoped so.

Time passed, and suddenly Sam got a text, saying that their guest had arrived. Ashley scoffed because they still refused to tell her who it was. But she would find out as soon as they walked down the stairs and left the hotel through the front door.

"Ronja Miller?" she asked in astonishment as she saw the black woman standing on the stairs.

The historian smiled in response. "Hi Ashley, I'm happy to meet you in person," she said, shaking her hand as the group came closer.

"Yeah, me too, I'm just surprised to see you here," Ashley replied, smiling brightly.

"The boys like surprises, don't they," Ronja said with a wink.

"Oh, they love not informing their guests of what's about to happen."

"Yeah, that's our guilty pleasure," Sam joked.

They went back to the rooms, joking around and chatting with Ronja. She was really nice and surprisingly open despite claiming to be a non-believer. Ashley could feel how Sam and Colby tried to subliminally convince her while also not wanting to sound intrusive.

Ashley laughed at their attempt and took the camera from Sam as they reached the room, setting it up in front of the couch. She didn't start recording just yet, though, because Ronja probably wouldn't want to do it immediately upon her arrival.

"How much of a believer are you?" Colby asked her at one point. "On a scale from one to ten, how much do you believe?"

"Not a high number," Ronja replied hesitantly. "Maybe a four. Or a three. Yeah, a three it is."

"Oh damn," was Ashley's reaction. "I was like an eight when I came here last time. For no particular reason, just because I always had the feeling that this," she gestured at the group of four, "couldn't be everything there is. Nowadays, I'm at a ten."

Colby nodded in approval and gave Sam a high five.

"So, are we going to do this now?" Sam asked.

"I still don't know what exactly, but yeah, sure," Ashley chuckled, putting her phone in silent mode, and tucking it away in her shorts' pocket.

"The theory part," Colby said, shaking his head. "Don't you know our videos? We always need a theory part."

"Oh, of course. Sure, I think I'll just go and chill somewhere while you-"

"Nope, this time we want you to stay with us," Colby stated, grabbing her wrist before she could stand up. Ashley tilted her head but didn't say anything.

She should say something. A funny response. A joke. Anything. The hand around her wrist made it impossible to think of anything, especially as he pulled her back onto the couch, right next to him.

Sam got up from the couch and walked to the camera, turning it on. Colby scooted to the side so that the two boys would sit in the middle, and Ashley sat to the right, next to Colby, whereas Ronja was to the left, next to Sam. Fortunately, the couch was big enough for all of them to sit comfortably.

"So, we all know the history of this hotel," Sam began. "And if you don't, here's a quick run-through. Ernst Hoffman was a rich German dude who came here in the 1920s and built this hotel. A few years later, he got his daughter, Ilse Hoffman, here as well, but she was heartbroken because she was madly in love with a pianist in Germany."

"Wow," Ashley said after a moment of silence, making the others laugh. "That really was quick."

"The quicker, the better," Sam stated.

"You don't like dragging things on? Don't want to enjoy it before really getting to it?"

"No." Sam shook his head, suppressing a laugh.

"Okay. You know, you should try it sometime. Take some time, not jumping directly into it," Ashley suggested. "To get a little excited."

"You know what, to each their own," Sam finally said.

"Ronja's just like what the fuck is going on," Colby laughed, looking at the historian.

"Oh no, I'm just listening and laughing internally," she said, holding up her hands.

"And yeah, it's always like this. Almost." The brunet leaned back on the couch, almost as if he were embarrassed. Ashley playfully punched his shoulder.

"Don't pretend you're not usually the one starting it!" she scoffed.

"You know what, fair enough. Let's move on."

"So, recently," Sam said to get back to the topic, "we found out that that this pianist was actually a woman, and that that was the reason why Ilse liked Ashley so much. We took that as a sign to come back here. Ronja, would you like to continue?"

"Well," she began, clearing her throat, "Helen Schneider was a pianist in the early 1920ties who often performed in bars, but also establishments for the richer part of the population. At the time, she was well known, but nowadays, hardly anyone has heard of her. The main reason for that is that most of her work was published under her late husband's name, Alfred Haas."

"So, Helene didn't get any recognition for her music?" Ashley asked. Ronja shook her head, and she sighed, "Sexism sucks."

"They married in 1928, which was a year after Ilse left," the black woman continued.

"Damn, a year after her death? That's brutal," Sam said.

"But necessary at that time. It was surprising that Helene found a husband in the first place, most men refused to marry women that old."

"Twenty-five isn't old," Colby said, sounding playfully hurt.

"It was, for women at that time," Ronja explained, shaking her head. "Alfred was forty when he married her."

"What?" Sam exclaimed while Ashley released a breath, and Colby shook his head. "Dang, that's crazy."

"It was normal back then," Ronja shrugged.

"It's crazy to think that that was just a hundred years ago," Colby said. "So much has changed."

"Literally." Ashley was still leaning her head against the couch's backrest, staring at the ceiling. "I would have had difficulties finding a husband, and I'm only twenty-seven. Even the fact that I would have had to find a husband is sick."

She raised her head just in time to see Colby close his mouth as if he had been about to say something before he decided against it.

"Anyways," Ronja said. "Helene lived from 1903 to 1986, which means that she was 83 on the date of her death. Alfred died thirty years earlier, which made him seventy years old."

"Thirty years as a widow is crazy," Ashley chuckled. "I hope he at least had a lot of money at the point of his death that she could inherit."