Just the two of them, in the middle of the room.
Why couldn’t she stop crying?
It was sad and shameful to look helpless before a person like him, a silent spectator, and with tears in her eyes she turned to flee to her room.
How could she think someone would comfort her?
But a hand holding her own stopped her escape, his pleading gaze taking her by surprise. Never before had he seen it in the Liszt that illuminated the mansion every day.
Why did he look at her that way?
Before she could react, he pulled her to him and held her in a strong but careful embrace. As if she was crystal, fragile and delicate. No one had treated her like that, and she did not want to feel like that, not now. But she was too stunned to get away.
Did she really wanted to do it?
Tears flowed back to remember the previous scene, as her idol had lost patience, calling her unbearable. Yes, it was what she was; useless, insignificant and unpleasant. But she just wanted to make him happy, for her mind and heart belonged to her teacher, is what he had always believed, in this life and the previous one.
Why, then, did he cling to Liszt?
His thoughts were interrupted by a warm breath and his sobs by an unexpected kiss. The voice of reason shouted loudly inside his head, demanding him to move away, to defend the body that only Herr Beethoven should touch. But Liszt’s lips were graceful and seductive; they tasted like freedom and love. The two things she needed the most in his life. She closed his eyes when the heart screamed feeling so far repressed.
Could this moment last forever?
He parted slightly, but she was afraid to open her eyes and finish the charm. Agitated and blushed, not knowing what to do, what to say, what to feel. And Liszt told her sincerely that she was beautiful, while gently caressing her cheek.
Would she ever feel so loved again?
