broken; t.reznor

|V| ✄ Lait.

Song: Piggy-- Nine Inch Nails

Juno

She awoke to the soft, rolling keys of a piano. Trent must have jumped right to work when he got out of bed. He had said something about making an album. With an eye cracked open, Juno realized she had fallen asleep in Trent's bed. The clock told her it was half past ten. The girl sat up and stretched. A sudden yet sleepy flush of embarrassment overcame her. How rude of her to fall asleep in a bed she wasn't offered. But she couldn't even remember closing her eyes.

She hadn't slept that well in months, years even. Motel beds didn't reach the level of warmth and amenity that Trent's gave her. The sunshine from the outside peeked through a fissure in the curtains, coating the room in a pale yellow glow. Juno felt so... at home at Le Pig; it was as if she finally belonged somewhere. She was a hermit crab that found itself a new shell, instant comfort, and relief.

The girl rolled out of bed and she dug her toes into the lush carpet. Maise was nowhere to be found. Probably keeping her owner company while his visitor slept the day away. Juno stalked out of the bedroom and stumbled on down the hall in a sleepy haze. With every step, the sounds of the piano increased. Minor keys hummed and echoed off the walls, giving the house an even eerier feel. Juno's bare feet slapped against the cool wood floors.

She reached the doorway where the melancholy music had been emptied from. Trent sat at his piano, jabbing away at the keys with the grace of a professional jazz player. Maise lay under the piano bench, head on her paws. The canine saw the intruder but made no sound. Juno leaned against in the door jamb while Trent played a repetitive pattern of minor keys. He would stop occasionally and scribble a few things down on a notepad he had next to him on the seat. Juno smiled to herself when Trent bit down on the eraser of his pencil in deep concentration.

Trent didn't look the same as he did the night before. The natural sunlight from the skylight above his head gave him radiance. She liked the sullen dip of his thin shoulders; the way his tight t-shirt clung to his body; the way his milky white skin looked ghostly and clashed with his long black hair. He had this steady pout on his face as if he always had something on his mind that concerned him but refused to share it. Trent didn't look real. He was a mirage, a trick of the mind. It couldn't be possible that there was a human being that could look so...

"Good morning," she said softly, attempting not to frighten him or disrupt his work. The man lifted his head in surprise. His pink lips curled into a friendly grin.

"Hey, I thought you were gonna sleep all day." Trent gathered his papers and hurriedly set them on top of the grand instrument.

"I planned on it but it didn't work out." Juno stood up straight, making her way towards him. She plopped down on the bench next to Trent, who giggled at her sarcastic response.

The male turned to face her. "Oh really? And why's that?"

Her green eyes met his hazel ones, and for a moment, Juno swore she couldn't find oxygen to breathe. Her heart hammered against her chest; she chewed at the skin on her bottom lip until she tasted the metallic tang of blood. What was going on?

The girl fluttered her lashes. Trent was still looking at her with that worrisome pout on his face... His disproportioned, pale, impeccable face.

"I heard the mastermind at work, so I thought I'd check it out myself." Juno gushed unexpectedly. Trent cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm no mastermind."

Juno felt herself smirk. "Then what is this album you're making?"

"Not the work of a genius, but I'm pretty damn proud of it." Trent rubbed his forehead with his thumb. Juno ran a finger over an ebony key, then two ivories— enough to make a small chime.

"Will you play me something?" She questioned. His eyes met hers for a second, filled with apprehension.

"I never really play my works in progress to people."

"Why? You scared?" Juno taunted, nudging his shoulder. He shook his head.

"I don't play my unfinished songs to people. It's easier for them to judge it and cause me to change what I think is good."

"I won't judge," Juno lifted her hand, "Scout's honor."

Trent snorted and lowered his eyes back down to the keys. "Alright."

Trent

He sucked in a breath. The anxiety was sure to kick in. His middle finger barely touched a chord. The vibrations rang in his ear. His thumb found an ebony.

Hey, pig. Yeah, you.

There he was, singing softly of an execrated lover and not caring about what they thought of him any longer. No cracking voice, no slip of a key-- only music. The pads of his fingers doodled about the keys, his heart thudding in his chest.

He felt the brunette's pupils piercing into his skin as his fingers worked at the keys. He worried about sticky fingers. He barely noticed that he was already halfway done performing the mortifying yet sensual piece. All the nerves remained within him, but he gave off no signs of tension. Trent wished he wouldn't mess up-- not in front of Juno.

He tapped a major, not a minor.

I lost my shit because of you.

Juno

A happy note.

He froze.

Their eyes met once more.

I messed up.

"It's alright."

He swallowed. She watched his throat move. Her teeth dug into her lip. The curve of his face that shone in all its timid glory.

Milky white.

His body was warm beside hers. Blood rushed to her cheeks. He dropped his head in shame. Her hand stroked his knee affectionately.

I'm sorry.

"It was beautiful."

She saw his eyes again. Full of hope and reliance. She blinked once. He was inching closer. She went deaf. Only static.

His perfectly imperfect face stretching toward hers. She turned away. Her palm tore from his knee. His plush lips met her temple. The tip of his nose grazed the baby hairs near her ear. Trent's breath was hot down her neck. He halted his activity to look her dead in the eye.

Are you hungry for breakfast?

She stopped. Nodded. Then she laughed.

Then she felt a part of her being crumble to dust.