His hands danced across the piano, emitting a loud melancholy song. One by one, each note told the sad story of despair. He swayed slowly as he played acting as a human metronome, barely visible in the dark apartment.
In a sudden moment he angrily brought his fingers down on the ivory keys. The chord rang angrily throughout the apartment. Satisfied he lifted his hands away from the piano.
House gazed absently around his apartment. It was late, but he wasn't tired. His mind was turning, every thought raced violently impairing his thinking. Casually, he picked up a pen that sat on the piano bench.
Already visible on a small piece of paper was his scrawled, slanted handwriting. The note read:
To Beauty:
I find myself writing this in part of the darkest hours of my life, only to be fair to you. There are many things that you need to know.
I love you.
But, you can never love me back.
Although, we could be great together, you and I. I want to be everything you need, the person you've been searching for your entire life. I could be the Romeo to your Juliet.
But, alas, it would never work.
Because I am more like the Beast, and you are my Beauty. You may be the closest thing to perfection possible, while I am the broken spirited suitor that seeks your company.
I could never be good enough for you, treat you the way you deserve to be treated, care for you the way you deserve to be cared for.
The best thing I can do is love you from afar.
Sadly, I can never be content to do that.
I know you must find this strange.
It is unusual for the Beast to expect their happily ever after.
I'm not expecting one.
But, I want you to know, I am sure you will find yours.
Love always,
Beast
He reached for the pill bottle on the piano, and turned it once in his hands before swallowing its contents.