To Be A Bougainvillea

Chapter 18

As Aurelia aroused from her slumber, the first thing she became aware of was the arm draped around her waist. 

She was facing the ajar bedroom door, the satin sheets soft against her skin, her head pressed against the back of a solid chest. Pale morning light beamed through the open windows and time stood still for a moment as Aurelia closed her eyes again and listened to the birds tweet and the cool breath fanning on her neck.

But then a shot of panic flooded through her once she saw that her hands were bent in an estranged way. 

"Shit," She murmured under her breath, throwing the arm off her waist and quickly perching up. Her wrists were stiff and she began rolling them, trying to remove the inflexibility. 

"What's wrong?" Dietfried's eyes fluttered open, revealing cutting green pupils, his voice husky with sleep. He rolled over to the side before lazily plopping up, his white nightshirt ruffled. For once, Aurelia wasn't struck by his appearance and instead continued fretting over her wrists. 

"I slept in the wrong position," She said, rubbing her carpal bones, "and now my wrists are stiff as a brick." 

"I'm assuming this is a pianist thing?" He asked before taking her wrist in his own hands and tenderly massaging them with his calloused thumbs.

She nodded, "You're meant to sleep in a certain way so your hands stay perfect. Especially before a performance." 

Dietfried saw the worried look on her face and raised her hands to his lips. "There you go." He mused after kissing each wrist, stifling a chuckle. 

"This isn't funny, Dietfried." Aurelia flicked his hands off and got up from his bed, "I don't want to mess up your cousin's wedding." 

"By all means, go ahead." He drawled, following her to the kitchen. "I'm going to need some sort of entertainment tonight. "

"I'm not your clown." She scowled, starting to feel rather fretful. This was her first performance in Leidenschaft and she didn't want to let herself down, let alone anyone else. 

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He grinned, amused by her distress. 

"I woke up next to you." She deadpanned. "Might as well be the same thing, huh?" 

Dietfried barked out a laugh. "Worrying doesn't look good on you, Lady Aurelia." He exclaimed, opening the fridge.

"I'm not worrying. I'm just..." Aurelia's voice trailed off as she raked a hand through her tangled hair.

"Just what?" His brows rose as he lifted a carton of orange juice to his mouth.  

"I don't know. Angst-y?" She bit her lip before walking away to her bathroom, "Never mind me. We need to get dressed." 

"Aren't you going to have breakfast?" He called out. 

"No, I need to go over my piece." 

"Suit yourself." She heard him mutter before locking herself in the bathroom. 

After slipping into her ankle-length royal blue dress, top-knotting her hair and finishing her make up, she headed to her room. The reason why she chose the grand suite was because it came with a piano which meant she didn't have to prepare at home. She started off with basic allegros to warm up. Then, she began playing her star breaker. 

The piece was called Apassionata by Beethoven. People often said it held the spirit of a troubled heart - a heart like Beethoven's. He was known to be charming and often deeply in love but he was also known to be equally temperamental and cruel for the way he laughed at people unaccustomed to humour. Apassionata expressed this character of contradictions with its expressive silences and sudden outbursts of rage and the desolate urgency in the finale. It cornered the very essence of what it is to be human.