───𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘.

Melody [Fundy]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He preferred to play alone, perhaps.

Velvet seats once crammed full of illustrious folk gathered to view and be entertained by musical splendor, their desires met beyond their wildest expectations and expressed through standing ovation had vacated long ago. The notes that once beautifully resounded through the theatre seemed to pause briefly before refilling the atmosphere; in it's solitude, the sound held other-wordly riches and passion... Music meant for Gods, not humans.

Fundy was prodigy. Self taught at an early age and later glorified among the most established musicians. Those who had slaved to obtain such talent and status were envious; it came naturally for Fundy, the deaf and blind were fated to remain within the confined darkness of his shadow. He was a New-Age Mozart, some might say. Objections had little to dispute his gift, and rather took aim by assuming him pretentious.

Fundy might agree.

His history beyond music remained a mystery. Fundy shared very little in regard to his personal life, and very few were witness to it's existence. To the many, he may as well have been a character portrayed by their watchful eyes. Perhaps, that is why his music took such a different tone when he was alone. You were certain, only a brilliant mind was capable of reserving a portion of their soul.

It felt like cheating, if you were honest, to be standing right on stage and in perfect view of his preformance. The thought occurred to you that you may have forgotten to lock the back entrance, inspiring your return to the theatre during the late hour and resulting in your discovery. The back door was indeed unlocked, Fundy had took full advantage, and it was far too late for you to turn back. You were entranced the instant his notes touched your ears, very nearly kidnapped by the way their grasp tightened around your heart.

The consequences might be dire should he turn and see you spying. Fundy had been a front-liner in your theatre for a little under a week, your interaction with him brief. He seemed like a decent man; he spoke softly and kindly, but the underlying sharpness in his eyes and his exuding brilliance were all the while intimidating

The depth, and warmth of the last note lingered in the room for several seconds. It elicited a lump to swell in your throat and called dormant butterflies to life as the piano bench creaked. Fundy  half-turned, one leg crossed over his knee, posture pristine, and dark umber orbs made contact with yours in a slightly amused manner.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," you rasped suddenly.

"I knew you were there, [Name]"

"You play beautifully..."

"Yes, you've told me once before."

"Have I?" You pause, lips furling downward, opposite of his, and your fingers fiddle, "Then, what I meant is . . . The piece you played just now was indescribably so. It would move people to tears if they heard it."

The pianist scrutinized you thoughtfully, before turning back to the keys, "Some things must remain sacred, as are most of the pieces I play in privacy... Save for this one, I imagine."

He grinned in spite of your consternation, and cut off your apology,

"Would you like to hear another?"

His outstretched hand seemed to insist and, as if time skipped, your own was enveloped in his warmth, being guided onto the mahogany bench. Mere centimeters apart, nearly shoulder to shoulder, long, slender fingers wasted little time resting back upon the keys. The male brought your attention to his face with a placid sigh. While he searched himself in reverie, you admired the bags beneath his eyes and the fine lines in his skin; his fringe sweeping over his brow reminded you of chocolate mousse, and his lips were slightly chapped.

Fundy's lids separated into nothing more than slits, but his hues were clear as day. A song, more closely resembling a lullaby, gently floated from the instrument, it's notes sweetly kissing your eardrums. It was much more confined than before, deeply personal as if in a bubble --unable to carry very far. His ability to manipulate the keys was astounding, his surroundings even more so; you felt you could drift off at any moment, the weight of sleep tugging at your lashes.

No longer were you in an amber-lit auditorium, but a lush green field with lavendar flowers on a starless night. It's warm, like summer, but still and tranquil like the late evenings of fall; a place where young love is prevelant and a first kiss feels like it could be the last. It almost made you weep,

"I would give anything in the world to play like you."

The words come out without full intention, and barely above a whisper. You hoped he hadn't heard, and your cheeks flush when he responded with a whimsical hum. Fundy barely missed a note as his right hand reached for yours, and placed them the keys. An arm around your shoulder, both of his hands placed themselves atop yours, firm enough to move your fingers in tandem with his, and effortlessly...

"Allow me to oblige."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕕

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