The Music Room - Ereri/Riren (SNK)

-Day 9-

The song Eren began teaching me has been stuck in my head since we started yesterday. I fell asleep with the melody on repeat and woke up the same way, and though I can't be completely sure, I think I dreamt about it, too. It's annoying, but not as so as I might normally find it to be.

As usual, he beats me to the music room, but he doesn't notice my presence as he's much too preoccupied by the keys, only one hand plucking at them quietly while the other is nestled between his thighs like he's trying to keep it warm. I give myself a moment to take him in before I make my presence known.

He's...virtually the same as the day I first met him, though I can only say that tentatively. He sports the faintest shadow on his otherwise bald scalp where his follicles are attempting to grow hair again, but surely his body is busier with things more important than simply growing hair. Nonetheless, it tries. He's still frighteningly thin and weak, his clothes - a tan V-neck covered by a gray sweater and black sweats, the same beige, wool slippers on his feet - all but engulf him, hanging loosely around his body. His eyes remain big and bright, narrow in concentration, and he plays the same several notes over and over, perhaps attempting to figure out what should come subsequent.

But none of this is what causes my heart to lurch in my chest. No, it's the way he sits, hunched over a bit more than normal, fingers shaky. It's the extra discomfort mixed in with his concentration. It's the...suddenly grayish, extra paleness state of his complexion, lacking its usual mild flush in the cheeks, dark circles encasing his eyes bearing heaviness beneath them.

So much change in so little time...

The lump in my throat comes back. By the time I've decided to make my presence known to Eren, he's figured out what note should come next, and he's brought his left hand up to join the right. He plays quietly.

I give three short knocks to the frame of the door. Eren immediately jerks upright, ceasing all playing, his head swiveling in my direction. Despite the subtle grimace tugging away at the corners of his mouth, his eyes light up so familiarly it has my heart stuttering.

"Hey," he says, cheer still coating his tone.

"'Morning," I murmur, striding my way toward him. He moves over on the bench and I take my place.

"How are you today?"

I raise a brow. He's never asked that. "Okay, I suppose..."

"Good," he says, but continues to look me over closely as if he's trying to make sure I'm telling the truth. I can feel myself shrinking back minimally. I swallow hard, a bit uneasy underneath his green gaze. It's light, though; past his pain, his eyes smile at me.

Once it seems he's satisfied that I am, indeed, telling the truth, he nods and casts his gaze back to the yellowed keys. A funny feeling bubbles up from deep inside me - an inkling, of sorts, that there's something he was contemplating telling me, or a deeper reason he suddenly decided to ask me how I'm doing. My stomach churns at the thought, and I can't take my eyes away from his face...beautiful in spite of his evident illness.

"Shall we get started?" he asks.

"No," I say.

He turns again, bewildered. "Why not?"

Out with it, I think. "There's something you're hiding," I state. "Something you're not telling me."

I half expect him to deny it, but he doesn't. Instead, he relents, holds my gaze steadily. Sadness swims into his features, accompanying pain and nearly consuming the happiness caused by my presence. I hold my breath.