So... I had the urge to male Mello play the piano. I think he's a piano man, you know?
Amy thanks to PickettFence for helping we make this grow from a seed into a fic.
That sentence could have ended up really corny.
But yes, PickettFence. Check her out, her work is pure gold :)
I remember when I first met Mail Jeevas, several years ago now, when I first arrived at Wammy's house.
I liked Matt, he was always civil to me, and our affection was mutual.
Mello did not like me, and to this day I am not completely sure why. Mail believed him to be jealous.
Mail reassured the blond, and continued with our strange friendship.
We spoke rarely, and when we did, it was about trivial things. I often regarded the conversations as a form of procrastination.
But there was one conversation, one thing told to me in the strictest confidence that I have never forgotten.
It happened days after Mello's tenth birthday.
In the middle of the night, Mail had heard Mello leave their shared room, for what he said was the sixth consecutive night, and he had followed, taking care to not be seen.
Mihael had gone to the music rooms, and sat, alone, at the grand piano.
Mail's exact words were "it was like an angel had come down to earth, and played the piano, his fingers danced across the keys, his eyes closed, like he was feeling the music, not playing. The song was... beautiful, there's not other word for it. He sang too, you know, in a rich, chocolaty tenor that was enough to make me believe in God."
I had never truly believed that Mihael could have done that, but I knew Mail. He disliked exaggerating. Mello was rough, violent, and rude.
No, I did not believe Mail's strange story. Not until almost a week later, when I awoke, in the night, shaking from nightmares I do not wish to recall.
I had woken, woken to hear a voice, soft and sweet floating through the night, drifting through Wammy's house, filling the air.
There was something about the voice that told me that Mail had been truthful, for it could have been nobody else, but Mihael.