Sonata (Harry Styles FanFiction)

17. Live a Little

Harry Styles

She didn't look up; she didn't even seem to notice. Her head was bowed over the Baby Grand, violet hair tumbling down over her shoulders and around her face. Even though her eyes weren't open she played with a passion that would humble Beethoven himself. Her fingers flew across the keys, filling the entire house with the magic she created. Sadness and longing flew through the air in the intoxicating strains. I'd heard Brian Crain's Imagining before, but never in this key— never with this much emotion— never like this. Her entire body shook as she worked her way through the piece, seamlessly beginning it again once the sheet music claimed it was the end of the tune. The second time she hit the crescendo she threw her head back, the trails of silent tears caught the light from where they had slipped down her cheeks.

This was a different side to Ren Grace that I doubted anyone had seen before. She always managed to retain some semblance of control— even today when I'd thought that I'd pushed her to her limit. Here she was, though, with so much more left unspoken.

"Are you just going to lurk in the doorway all night or are you going to try and psychoanalyze me again?" she said, her voice bringing me crashing back to reality. Aquamarine eyes watched me from behind long dark lashes, fingers never ceasing their path along the ivory.

"I never meant to upset you-."

"Oh, really? So you just thought that I'd laugh off the fact that you stole my paper and then threw some of my most intimate confessions back into my face?"

"No, I mean, I never intended for it to get that out of hand-."

"There was a good goddamn reason that I didn't want that paper read. I may have written it, but it wasn't for you to read. It wasn't for anyone."

"Then why write it?"

"I've kept things bottled up before; I've seen where that takes people, hell, where it took me. I don't want to go there again. So, I do whatever I have to to get rid of it and move on," her voice trailed off, her eyes closing once more as she sent her delicate fingers tumbling across the keys; loss and longing echoed out from the struck chords.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity. I've had enough to last me three lifetimes."

I was at a loss for what to say. This girl never ceased to amaze and surprise me. After a few moments she seemed to forget that I was even there, retreating to a space far beyond the present. Her innermost thoughts and conflicts swirled through the room, carried on strains of notes and chords— a musical confession. Even now I could hear her screaming at me, the poetry of a foreign language melding perfectly with the music as she raced once more towards the climax. How was I to know what lines I'd breached when I had no idea what she had been saying to me.

For a brief moment, I was tempted to ask, regardless of the consequences, but I stopped. Tears still slipped silently down her cheeks. Her voice had been indifferent, but her eyes betrayed the torrential emotions warring within her; it was testament to her strength that even now she was able to retain any semblance of self-control.

Silently, I crossed the room, moving to join her on the piano bench. I expected her to yell at me and tell me to get the fuck out, but she didn't even react; the music never faltering.

"Does it help?" I asked, folding my hands in my lap as I struggled to resist the urge to wipe the tears from her cheeks. I had no idea how she would react if I touched her. She'd probable sever my arm without batting an eye.

"Yes," she whispered, darkened blue eyes fluttering open. Her cheeks were pink and water stained, her bottom lip trembling so subtly I hadn't noticed until I was less than a foot away.