The beautiful sounds of a grand piano echo through the residence of West. Surely, it was Roderich playing upon the ivory and ebony keys of the wooden instrument, painted in a shiny black. But, personally, the piano was not as beautiful as its player.
I peer in to see the back of the brunette aristocrat whom I've defeated twice before. There was one thing, though, that I could not conquer.
I almost jumped as the music came to a halt. I remained silent, but my presence had been discovered.
"If you're going to listen, don't just stand by the door," his cruel voice hisses, but I know he meant it kindly. At least I wasn't being told to just buzz off and leave. So, with me usual, uncaring, wild smirk, I opened the door and strut right on in, not ashamed to let him now I was here.
Now, there were two options here. Sit in a chair beside the piano, or place my ass beside his and do what he expected I would. Well, better not disappoint. I kept a small space between us as he resumed play, a soft melody streaming between my ears. I'm not a musician, so I couldn't recognize what he played. But whatever it was, it was both relaxing and alluring. He continued to play, and I watched as his facial features were calm, that beauty mark on his chin even appearing so. Roderich's hands reached toward my side of where we sat so his long, delicate fingers could tap upon the cold keys of the higher notes. My eyes wandered up his arm, lavender silk missing, but simple white cotton to cover him from being bare, hiding his pale shoulders. The frills at his neck making him seem more in charge.
I gazed at his deep purple eyes, full of poise and proper etiquette, far unlike my bloody thirsty orbs. His posture matched his eyes, seeming so high above my slouch. I examined the fine white cloth that covered his calves, the indigo trousers hid his thighs, and a black sash around his waist prevented someone like me from sliding my hand down inside with ease. Not that I planned to today!
But, under the clothes, it was beautiful. I'd seen it quite some time ago. His milk skin with just a tint of color, ruined by battle scars though the years. I'd managed to see each detail when I came across his room, slightly cracked, and my eyes peeked in to see him changing for the day. I still want to see more, but not out of lust. And not today. He wouldn't allow it, and I respected that. Perhaps I'll never see more, but I'll wait forever. Even if I never saw, my feelings would never change.
I, though, am curious on his own feelings towards me. I always get his cold shoulder, sharp glances, and words ever so bitter. Yet, he invited me in. How much in, I would have to test that out.
The notes grew heavenly and light, my train of thought stopping. I couldn't hold all that in much longer. Gently as I could, I caressed his chin in my hand and lifted it, passing him a light kiss, and it went silent as the piano's glorious sound stopped. He was hesitant, but he kissed back as his hand abandon the pearl keys to rest on my other hand, which was resting at his knee now.
But no matter how many times I will try, no matter how many times we've kissed before, I can never know for sure of I've actually captured his heart. He's already captured mine, long ago. He'd always call this thing we had "friendship". Not even the "with benefits" kinds.
But, to me, as long as that piano played, this is love.
"Love is a friendship put to music."