Dusted Ivory

Chapter 5

He came again today.

He walked in with his head down, and his face hidden by a hat. He wasn't smiling like he usually was. His shoulders were heaving a bit, like he was trying not to make it obvious that he was crying into the stack of piano books held to his chest.

He didn't come over right away like normal, which confused me a bit. No, instead he placed his books carefully on top of me and hurriedly left again. I was concerned, he'd never done that before. What could he possibly be doing? Why did he leave so suddenly?

He left me pondering my questions for quite some time before returning and allowing me to see why he took so long.

He was dragging in a magnificent new bench for me! It was beautiful. Quite solid, obviously. It had to be for the amount of work the boy had to put in just to get it to me. It was the same colour as I was. Charcoal black to match my finish with what looked like a a liftable seat to store books in. Which is exactly how the boy used it.

Once he had finished dragging the magnificent bench over to me, without making a sound, he marched back over to the end of me where he had placed his piano books. He returned to the seat and lifted the top. He slowly and deliberately placed the books into piles on the ground before placing them orderly and carefully inside my bench as though he was scared that a single wrong move would destroy his precious books.

When he was done, he had put away all the books except for one. This book was a small, cardboard bound thing. The cover was light blue and covered in inspirational quotes, feathers, and Aztec style patterns. It really wasn't much, but the boy held it as though it was the most precious thing in the world to him. I would later find out that that was damn near close to the truth.

The piece he played this time was haunting and emotional. There was so much sadness in the song, so much pain. It felt exposing, nearly as exposing as the boys expressions normally were. He still hadn't let me see his face. I wondered why.

When he finished, a few teardrops hit my keys before he was running away, book in hand.

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Fun fact, mystery boy's notebook is the same one that holds all my writing for this, my TMI fic, and several other random one shots I've written.

Question, would any of you read an incredibly disturbing 3k word one shot? It's an original, based off a poem and there isn't any ships or anything. It's just me and what I could come up with.

Thanks for reading!