A Partita For The Troubled written by Ken Aurborum Giovanni
Annie sat with her legs hanging out the window towards the fire escape, cigarette in between her fingers, ash tray by her left hand, and ear phones plugged firmly into both ears. She stared out into the expanse that was her very own cityscape. She stared blankly out the window enjoying the way the rain hit the pavement below, how the construction and traffic were ever so slightly muted by the rainfall, how everything seemed like it was filtered in grey, how the cool winds would blow her way bringing the scent of rain along with it. She enjoyed every minute of it (since 4 o'clock in the morning…it was now 6:45). Armin would wake up in 15 minutes, 7:00 o'clock in the morning, everyday…like clockwork. She finished off what was left of her cigarette and tossed the butt along with the ashes out the fire escape to be washed out by the rain.
Annie walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth, remembering how Armin detested even the slightest tinge of burnt tobacco (though he never told her explicitly). She walked out of their bedroom and into the living room and sat herself down at her desk where a rifle lay disassembled. She took a glass and a bottle from the bottom drawer of her desk and poured herself a generous amount of scotch (Johnny Walker, Double Black). She took a sip, savoring the intense smoky flavor that was imbued in the drink, and then she put on her glasses and got back to work; finishing up her field strip and cleaning of her rifle.
13 minutes later, as if on cue, she hears the bedroom door open while Armin walks out into the living room with his disheveled hair, watery eyes, and monogrammed sleepwear.
"He's such a dork!" Thought Annie playfully as she spied the stylized capital "a" (in a font of his own design mind you) on Armin's breast pocket. Though she had to admit, he looked absolutely adorable. Like a child waking up from a nap. Maybe it was his boyish charm she thought, or maybe the way he rubbed his eyes while he yawned. Either way it cause a slightest of smile to form on her face.
"A little early for a drink, don't you think?" Armin said approaching Annie with a kiss to the top of the head. Though Annie would never admit, she blushed ever so slightly as he did so.
"It's Sunday, Armin. I believe I'm allowed to drink whenever I please," She deadpanned (though she never meant to sound that cold).
"Ti Amo." Whispered Armin into her before planting a quick kiss on her cheek and going back to the bedroom for a quick shower.
Annie smiled to herself. It was amazing how the simplest of gestures coming from him would leave her with a pink hue about her cheeks. She just couldn't understand why…but maybe that's love for you…it doesn't need an explanation, it just is.
15 minutes later Armin walked out freshly showered and wearing a white hoodie and grey jogging pants. At this time Annie was sipping on her scotch on the sofa. Armin took a seat beside her and leaned his head against her shoulders.
"You look adorable in the sweatshirt." Said Annie with a small smile.
"And you, my love, smell like cigarette smoke!" Said Armin burying his face in the crook of her neck.
"I brushed my teeth!" Annie retorted jokingly.
"But it sticks to clothing. You should stop, it's slowly draining away at your life."
"Doesn't the mere act of living do that anyways?" Replied Annie.
"It does, but smoking speeds the process. Meaning I'd get to spend less time with you, which I believe is BAD." Armin intertwined his fingers with Annie's.
"Damn he's good," Cursed Annie in her head. "How can anyone refuse someone like that?"
"Can you play for me? Please?" She asked.
"Sure! Just let me get my violin!" Armin said walking towards the living room closet.
"No. Not in that. I want you to dress up in concert attire." Annie commanded.
"S...Sure A..Annie…" Armin stuttered before walking back into the bedroom.
Minutes later Armin stepped out back into the living room wearing a Black 3 piece suit with burgundy tie and patent leather shoes. He assembled his violin, carefully joining the shoulder rest with the bottom of the body, steadily tightening his bow (which was already rosined), and finally laying a handkerchief neatly on the chin rest (A La Perlman).
"What do you want to hear?" Armin asked timidly as he was tuning.
"The Partita in D-Minor by Bach. All of it."
"O...Okay…"
Armin started with the Allemanda, approaching the first attack with just a tinge of harshness, pressing against the string with just a bit more force. He played the arpeggios rather liberally, going into a ritardando when he felt it necessary and quickly moving back to a temp, crescendoing and decrescendoing as he did so. Then all of a sudden Annie was 16 again. It was just another concert by the music department and much like every other presentation of the performing arts this year; she was forced to go lest her grade be held hostage by her music teacher. Nearing the end of the concert, a small teenage boy with shoulder length blonde hair walked up on to the stage, clad in black with violin and bow in hand. Annie was mildly interested. She half expected him to wet himself with how violent he was shaking. She crossed her arms and watched as the boy readied his bow. At the moment the first chord was struck any doubt that she had in this young boy had vanished. He struck his bow upon the strings with immeasurable emotion and inexplicable passion. He no longer shook like a jackhammer was stuck where the sun didn't shine and the frightful little eyes that emanated fear only moments ago were closed as he swayed to the lamenting notes of J.S. Bach. He amazed her, it was stunning the way he played even though there were slight mistakes made here and there. Annie watched intently thought the majority of her row started to twiddle their thumbs on their mobile phones. Now The boy was in front of her again. 7 years later. Still amazing her. Playing the same exact piece.
Armin finished the piece with a flourish of his bow, allowing the final note to ring. Though quite straining it was play for half an hour straight he was incredibly please, even ecstatic to see that Annie was smiling. Armin placed his violin back into the case but before he could shut it Annie jumped of the sofa, bounded the coffee table, and embraced Armin by the waist who then reciprocated her action.
"I love you…" Annie said softly burying her nose in the crook of his neck.
"I…love you t…too Annie," Stuttered Armin, who was caught speechless by the sheer peculiarness of it all.
The best part of it was, only 8 o'clock.
A.N.: Well everybody hope you all enjoyed my first piece of AruAni! This particular idea came to me while I was listening the Dies Irae from Mozart's Requiem. I've no Idea why but it's what popped into my head! Also I highly suggest you all listen to Itzhak Perlman's rendition of Bach's Partita No.2 or at the Chaconne. It was a great piece of inspiration for me (as I centered this fic around it!). Also I hope I receive a warm welcome into the fandom and with that said I look forward to writing more AruAni!