A/N: Hiya! This is my second fic, and the I've ever written for Ouran. I've been thinking about Tamaki, and how he really seems to 'feel the moment' when he plays the piano. He always looks so serious and sincere, so I decided to write about it. Mehehe. Reviews are loved, good or bad! Correct me if I have any facts messed up, or any grammatical errors. Enjoy (AND REVIEW!) :DD
DISCLAIMER: Neither Ouran Highschool Host Club nor Tamaki Suoh are owned by me. All I own are the ideas XD
The door of the old music room creaked as it opened. The tall, blonde haired boy walked to the center of the room, towards the only instrument it contained. There was no point in putting any other instrument in the room. It wasn't like anybody else lived in this lonely mansion.
He pulled off the sheet which covered the piano, and took a seat. Dust seemed to fly with every movement he made. He didn't care. He allowed no one to come into come in this room, whether to clean or to play, except him and him alone. He ran his fingers across the keys, feeling each one slowly. He took a deep breath, inhaling the dankish air. He closed his blue eyes and started to play.
Laughter filled the air. Each whisper, giggle and secret were theirs and theirs only. No one else had to know. Her voice sounded like bells each time she spoke, each time she laughed.
"Tamaki, play something for me, would you?"
The little boy smiled at the lady with the same blonde hair as his with his dazzling blue eyes. He giggled and bounced up to the piano giddily. As he approached the piano, a serious look replaced the playful grin and he began to play.
The woman too closed her eyes and listened. She let the music wash away her troubles, allowing her to escape even just for a while from the painful truth of what she would have to do.
When the piece was over, she opened her eyes to find an expectant little boy looking concered.
"Why are you crying? Didn't you like it?"
"No, no," she said hurriedly with a thick voice, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Of course I liked it. It was perfect. Another one tomorrow, alright?" she said with a reassuring smile.
His eyes lit up instantly."Okay!" he replied, as he ran to hug her.
Each moment, each memory was theirs to keep.
Of course, there were other memories, but they were all so like his dreams. Vivid in color, always making him breathe heavier and sometimes bringing tears to his eyes. But again, like dreams, they were fleeting, and very easily forgotten, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it. This memory always came back to him though, haunting him. He was unsure whether it was a sweet dream which helped him remember, or a nightmare which forbade him to forget. Either way, he didn't care. He would never let go of this one dream, nightmare or no.
His fingers seemed to have a life of their own as they moved across the ivory keys, playing the same piece he played on that day. The sound of music filled the dusty room. There was no one to interrupt him and no one to stop him, so play he did. He wouldn't let go of that slowly fading memory.
He played to remember.
He loved the sound that the piano made. He loved each note, each melody it could play. His fingers were running across the piano, now. He tilted his head to listen better to each note. It so reminded him of rippling water. It was so peaceful and calming, so dainty and graceful.
What was water, anyway?
You could hold water, but couldn't really cling onto it. You could cup it in your hand and try to feel it, enjoy each moment of it being there, but it would soon drip through your fingers, leaving you cold and empty-handed. It seemed that everything reminded him so much of her and his past that he never wanted to forget. Though there were things in his past, he decided, that he'd be better off forgetting. Things in his painful, painful past…
SMACK!
Pain.
The young boy held onto his stinging cheek with both hands. He didn't dare look up or even move, for fear of being hit again. He stayed frozen in that dark room. The old woman never really opened the windows. She seemed not to like the light. He bit his lip as his eyes watered, resisting the urge to cry out.
"You are a disgrace to this family," she hissed. She had a musty odor about her, despite all the perfume she wore.
"Mother," began the man at the door. "Please—"
"And you," she snapped, not giving him a chance to finish. "are the cause of this. Fooling around with other women. Who knows how many others you've been with!"
The man's eyes widened in shock. "Mother!" he breathed
"You foolish man."
She started to walk out the door. "Get this filthy child out of my house."
Tamaki winced and stopped playing. His eyes opened. His hand rose and felt for the mark that had stung his cheek for so long, forgetting for a moment that that had happened years ago. You are a disgrace to this family. That cold voice would never get out of his head. He would never stop trying to be accepted into his own family. He would do whatever it took.
He sighed and closed his eyes once more, his fingers finding their places on the keys. They began to play again, continuing the piece where it had been left off. With each note he played, his anguish slowly left him. He would play on until his worries vanished, leaving him with only a lingering feeling in his chest of disregarded memories and meaningless pasts.
He played to forget.
He had been playing on this piano for so long, for so many times that he knew every part of it. He'd be able to show you each crack, carving, key and string in only a matter of seconds, even in pitch-darkness. Each note and key played resulted in old memories being revived. He played on and let his fingers do all the remembering as they played on the old piano.
"Tamaki, I have something for you," said the man with black hair as he led the boy down the hall. This second mansion was so empty, so lonely, and so hollow. He stopped at the door that was found at the end of the hallway.
He opened the door and the boy with blonde hair inhaled sharply, mesmerized by the beauty of the piano that stood before him. It was the only object in that room. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
He slowly walked towards the ebony black instrument, as if he were in a trance. He ran his hands across its intricate carvings, his fingers itching to play something on the smooth, unused keys.
"Beautiful," he breathed to himself.
"I just thought that since you'd be living here…alone in this new place, that you'd want something to…something to remind you of.."
Tamaki turned, shocked to the big man crying. He found his shoulders shaking as well as tears ran down his own face. He walked up to the broad-shouldered man and wrapped his arms around his huge built. His feelings were confused and mixed up inside him, but it felt good to be like this.
"Thank you, father," he whispered.
Tamaki played the final note and ended his piece. He had tears in his eyes but he didn't bother to wipe them away. No one was there to see him, anyway. He stood up and reached into his pocket. He pulled out an old, crumpled picture of a beautiful woman. She had long, blonde, silky hair and bright blue eyes very much like his own. She was smiling lovingly at the baby she held in her arms. He smiled sadly, and stroked the picture.
But mostly, he played because playing was the closest he would ever get to her.
"We will meet again soon, mother," he whispered to no one in particular. The door shut, and the room was empty once more, the last note still hanging in the musty air.