Strings Hold Me Back (Eddsworld AU)

He cares for me

(Tom's POV)

I sit around, nothing to do and nothing to see. I fiddle with my puppet strings. Tomee takes a seat beside me, struggling a bit to pull himself up and onto the wooden chair paired with the dining table. He latches onto the edge of the seat, his stubby legs swinging before lifting up and relaxing next to me, his head barely reaching my midsection. He leans his squishy head on my hard forearm. I look down at him before giving a silent sigh, for the 13th time since Master had left. It seems to be the only thing left to do in this house.

"Tom?" Tomee squeaks out of the blue. I tilt my head at him; my stiff eye lids fluttering close for a moment, before opening once more.
"Can you dance for me?" He asks like a small child getting a rare chance to eat some sweets before dinner. He looks up at me and I nod with a warm smile curling on my stiff, inhuman face. I get up slowly, my limbs a bit tighter than I'd like them to be. I pick up the small bear in my arms; holding him close as he snuggles into me. I walk out the kitchen, down the hall, my feet making the same loud clonks and heavy footsteps. My control bar being quite vexatious as usual. I trot a bit, wishing to reach my destination quickly.

I finally make it, excitement rushing into my nonexistent blood. The record room, containing a record player. Oh, how I love it so! It can play the most wonderful pieces from the plethora of records in the cabinets lining the room's walls. The room's large window is the smallest bit ajar, its cotton curtains fluttering ever so slightly. The night sky is truly beautiful tonight. I hurry over to the window, bouncing on the balls of my feet to look outside. The street lamps glow a soft yellow that illuminates the town. Their small flames within flicker behind the tinted glass. The sky has bright blue and white stars speckled about, the pale moonlight seemingly reflecting off them.

I manage to tear my 'eyes' away from the mesmerizing sight, walking over to a cushioned and rectangular ottoman. I gently place Tomee down onto the, very much dented, hardwood floor. I lift the heavy lid of the, once again, handmade seat. Inside lay what seems to be an endless amount of records, ranging from Etudes, Minuets, Concertos, Baroques, and more. I absolutely adored it. There are the most beautiful compositions from amazing ballets as well. I do love music and dance with all my pine heart. It's two of few reliefs I can use to break away from my laborful life. Sadly enough, listening to songs with human voices singing along melodically always manages to break down my hard wooden exterior. The mere knowledge of the fact that I will never be able to sing along with the musicians pains me so.

I rifle through the records, inspecting each one with the intent of looking for another. Tonight I am searching for a particular record, one of my favorites, actually. Clair de Lune. It is not known to be a song you dance to, but I adored it so much as to choreograph my own ballet for it. Its soothing notes and chords always manage to calm me. The beautiful legatos and how the pianissimos transition smoothly into louder volumes and back with flawless crescendos and decrescendos always make me fill to the brim with joy.

I finally lift up the correct disk with a cheer in my mind. Tomee chirps in glee. I use one hand to place the record carefully onto the floor as I use my other to close the ottoman shut. Once closed, I use both hands to lift Tomee up and seat him comfortably on the chair. I pick up the record once more, turning away from the patient teddy bear to put it into the player. I slide the large, black, and ridged disk out from its thick paper sleeve as I reach the old player. Dropping the sleeve, I place the record onto the player. I move the needle on top of the record and let it start to play. The music starts out sounding gravelly at first, then gradually becoming smoother and more composed.

I run to the center of the room, in front of Tomee. I pose in my starting position, awaiting the arrival of the beginning of the piano piece. My arms crossed in front of me. My left leg points out, straight and crossed in front of my bent right leg as I lean over. The piano plays its new chords, and I swing my left leg over. I stand on the tip of my foot, my right leg up at a high angle. My right arm is down and my left is raised up in front of me. I wait a few moments until I move again.