Harvard Boy

Piano.

She couldn't understand why she felt the urge to play.

Why she went out for a walk, and ended up here, staring at the foyer.

The shadowing of the studio; the silence of the room; The grand piano she was sat against.

All corresponded with what she needed. What was innate.

She took lessons as a child.

Her alcoholic father telling her to play, and play. Until she couldn't anymore, until he'd sob into his bottle, and whisper "your mother would be so proud."

She was burdened with that. Etched with the past; her childhood.

Victoria loved the piano, loved the way it sounded, loved how she could make something out of nothing.

But she hated what it entailed.

Hated ever playing, because it was founded with sorrow, and heartbreak.

Hated that her father ruined it for her.

She played when her world wasn't turning, when her sky was falling.

She played to let go, to let the truth in.

"You're tough to find." His voice was clear; warm; soft, against the hollow walls.

She turned sharply in her stool. Confirming him.

"Maybe I didn't want to be found." She challenged. Admiring the way he looked in casual clothing, instead of his uniform.

"Hmmm." He smirked, before walking casually toward her.

She turned, facing away from him.

"How'd you find me?"

"Easy." He lout out a sigh. "I checked your dorm, checked the library, then every room in the main lobby, and here you are."

This made Victoria relax, if only for a moment. "Stalker." She smiled.

Feeling him, heavy behind her.

"I like to think of myself as more of an enthusiast."

She giggled, until he was leaning against the piano; Eyeing her.

"And why were you looking for me?"

His smirk widened. "Well besides the fact you weren't answering any of my calls." He shifted his weight. "I was hoping you'd come with me to the coffee shop. Im parched, and want you there."

This made her heart warm; then ice cold.

He's to much, she's not enough.

Harry noticed her hesitation, the way her features softened and lost interest.

Noticed the fading hickey.

Noticed the droop of her lips.

The beat of silence answering everything.

"Didn't know you played." He gestured toward the broad instrument. Attempting to be subtle.

"Since I was a kid." She cracked.

"Me too."

Her gaze lost his, falling down to her hands. She felt her finger tips graze the keys.

It was all so cliche. The way he was here, the way she felt the aching urge to play in his presence.

She was sad.

He's what she wants, but can't have; will never have.

Not fair. It's not fair.

She was here because of him; he's here because of her. Both equally for different reasons.

That's all it took, the reminder.

Her fingers pushed, running delicately across each note. Until music echoed, until it christened the chandelier above them, until it engulfed the room.

It made Harry want to say something.

To tell her the truth, about everything.

Made him regret.

Made him sorry.

Made him sad.

(Hi guys! Thanks so much for patients and votes! My midterm week was crazy! But updates are back 😍 yayyyy!!!!! Love you all so much, thank you again 😘)