𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄, doctor strange.

Melody

STEVEN'S POINT OF VIEW

                    I dumped my plate in the sink, yellow pieces of egg and biscuit clinging onto it as I switched the tap off, humming merrily to myself the tune which Ana played on her piano, which had rooted itself inside my head firmly, feeling my chest with a warm feeling each time I thought of it. I desperately wanted to hear the sounds of her fingers against the ivory, but I knew I could never persuade Ana to do it. Her shy, modest self would never admit to being as good as she is.

                     Taking a curious leap, I walked from the kitchen to the living room, where Ana had finished her Peter Pan book in a matter of a few days, and I had to keep myself from gasping in astonishment at how swiftly she read. A playful smirk upon my lips, I rushed past her, and she glanced up with a confused expression and furrowed brows before shrugging and turning back to her book, her silver blue eyes scanning over the words. I was momentarily dazed by her calm and soothing gaze before bounding up the stairs, approaching her door cautiously. Sticking out my tongue as I imagined a little child sneaking food from the kitchen would do, I twisted her handle, slightly wincing as it creaked quietly, and peered around with a keen, trying to spot her plastic keyboard.

                     Her room was almost spotless, except for a towel thrown over the bed-rest, her navy sheets tucked nicely beneath her gray pillows. Her wardrobe was held open, and her clothes were ordered from short-sleeved, pants, long-sleeved, scarves and hats, and dresses and cardigans or coats. Her drawers were neatly pushed in their slots, where usually I would find a girl's clothes overflowing from them like waves of material. Her nightstand was covered in a single round lamp that pointed towards her bed, a large pile of thick books of classics stacked neatly on top of sketches of things around the house. I also noticed a small figurine of a pyramid shaped shape that seemed to be made of chrome that sat on top of her desk, reflecting the sunlight from her single circular window. 

                    Something black and weathered caught my eye, and flipping around, I swiftly pulled the case from under the bed, and flicked open the hatches, peering cautiously and at wonder at the beautiful ivory shining with oil, the dark black keys shiny and new-looking, though this one had obviously been through some tight spots. Inhaling sharply, I carefully grabbed the piano by both sides, and twirled it in my hands with an impressed nod before trotting down the stairs, leering behind Ana's chair silently. Her eyes continued to skim the book, so when I dangled the instrument in her lap, she yelped and dropped her book to the ground, eyes wide and flustered. She sighed frustratingly, sending a confused and suspicious glance my way as I smiled proudly, slightly shaking the instrument.

                    " Play something," I said in a childish tone, smirking evilly as I stuck out my bottom lip in a counterfeit pout. Ana eyes filled with amusement as I frowned deeply, but failing to hide my slight smirk. Groaning, muttering profanities under her breath silently, she placed the piano firmly in her lap with no hesitation, and before long the sweet melody of the music flowed through the room and into my ears, silky and calm. I sighed deeply, collapsing onto the couch in pure bliss, my eyes closed as a content smile played upon my lips, the soft melody rocking my brain. It was Comptine d'un autre été : L'après mid, one of the most loved concertos I listened to as a young brilliant child that was interested in the sweet sounds of the piano. Her fingers would strut confidently across the keys, her head slightly swaying to the beat.

                       As the music continued on, I found myself in a deep daze, the surroundings around me irrelevant to the beautiful sound that resonated in my ears as the darkness of sleep enveloped me, the echoes of the piece not far from my mind.