Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or the characters. They are the property of Tajiri Satoshi and Nintendo.
Notes: Another Starchshipping fic from me, only I thought it'd be nice to take a different approach. I have chosen not to include names, and instead refer to Tracey as an artist and Cilan as the musician.
I know Cilan hasn't been confirmed to know any instruments yet, so I blame Kiniro no Corda for this. In the Japanese version, Cilan is voiced by Miyano Mamoru who voiced Kaji Aoi in Corda, and yes, Kaji plays the viola. That's where the idea came from.
I will issue the shounen-ai warning, though I'd also like to warn about non-graphic sex towards the end of the story. This story is Starchshipping, meaning the relationship between Tracey and Cilan. Shounen-ai is romantic love between two male characters which is what Starchshipping happens to be. If you do not like that, then please leave now. If you like it or can tolerate it, then please enjoy.
He paused in his steps. What is that? He strained his ears, for his hearing was sharp but not as sharp as his blue mouse companion. He closed his eyes and focused on that one sound. Music...it sounds like a violin? He decided to follow the song flowing through the air, and kept doing so until he found the source of it.
He carefully pushed the door open, thankful it had been oiled and so did not creak like a lot of doors in the building he called home. He didn't open it too far, thinking that the person inside the room would wish for some privacy. He was normally one to oblige, but there was something about the song that made him decide to give up his principles, just for that moment.
He watched from behind the musician and could see the bow sliding gracefully over each of the strings, sometimes the bow would cease for a split second while fingers carefully plucked the tough strings, creating a beautiful melody.
He could see, even through the other's clothing, that the muscles in their torso were tight, the result of having to stand in the position they were.
His vision blurred briefly and he blinked, feeling droplets run down his cheeks. Why am I crying? Never before had he been so moved by a song. Yes, he appreciated all forms of art as he himself was an artist. But, this was the first time a song tugged at his heartstrings, resulting in tears steadily flowing down his cheeks. He didn't sob, his breathing stayed regular. It was just the tears expressing how moving the music was.
The song wasn't even meant to be sad, but he was finding there was something in the musician's heart that resulted in it becoming melancholy. After all, as an artist, he knew that what drove artists to create was not just skill, but emotion, and if anybody cared to observe closely, they'd be able to see or hear or feel the same emotion the artist expressed during creation.
His chest constricted as the song started to become even more melancholy than what it normally would be. He bit his lip and inhaled sharply, not wanting to be heard by the musician. He didn't want to interrupt, he wanted to hear this song to the very end. Some of the best works had been found to be incomplete, due to the deaths of the artists. But, in his heart, this artist knew the musician had to complete the song for it to have any real meaning.
His hand flew to his mouth as the tears flowed faster. No more were they tiny droplets, they soon formed a river on each cheek. The song was reaching its climax. His shoulders shook as each note reached him. He could feel the pain the musician was feeling, he could feel the confusion the musician wished to express.
If he'd looked closer, he would have noticed the musician was trembling slightly, but trying to gain composure, if only to finish their masterpiece.
The song slowly but surely came to an end with the sound of a long-drawn G-flat. The musician stayed in the same position for just a few more seconds, almost as if they were recovering from the song they'd completed. A quiet sigh sounded from parted lips as arms lowered, the viola - for that's what it was - being separated from the bow until their next rendezvous.
The musician heard a quiet sound and turned to face the source. Emerald eyes widened upon seeing the weeping artist. The sound, he now knew, was a sob that tried to escape but was bit back before it could fully depart. "What's the matter?"
The artist moved his hand from his mouth, he knew he'd been caught. "I'm sorry for invading your privacy," he whispered. His voice was slightly broken, but not any more than any other time he wept.
The musician expressed concern with a slight frown marking his features. This was why he wanted to play the song in private, it was because the song was for the currently weeping artist. He had feelings he wished to express, but it wasn't easy. How was he to know the artist would return those feelings? That was why his normally joyous song was filled with pain and heartbreak. Because that was everything he felt.
The artist calmed in a few minutes. He reached up to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, only to cease in his actions when the musician instead reached up and carefully dabbed at fragments of tears with a clean, white handkerchief.
The musician smiled very slightly and blushed, just a slight tinge of pink dusting his cheeks.
The artist was also blushing, the same rose-coloured tint on his usually pale cheeks. His frown turned upwards and became a smile. He let out a slight chuckle.
The musician decided that maybe he should take the chance. The artist now knew his feelings. There was just the question of if he felt them as well.
The artist's chocolate eyes widened as he realised what the musician was doing. But, he daren't run from it. His heart raced, but he kept his ground. He knew that this was right.
The musician's heart was throbbing loudly, screaming in his chest. He rested a hand on the artist's chest and raised himself slightly on his toes. His eyes were half-lidded, just until he'd made sure that he was going to reach his intended destination.
Two pairs of eyes closed as plush lips met up-close for the first time, finally there was no distance. The lips kneaded each other, lightly massaging and exchanging pleasantries.
They lay among soft pillows, silky sheets and warm blankets, all of which were friendly to the skin bared as both the artist and the musician created their own duet of their feelings. Quiet gasps, whimpers and whispers were the sounds coming from their instruments, as both ran their fingers over any place that would elicit sound.
The melody started to rise in a crescendo as passion filled the usually quiet room, and with one last call and gentle sighs, the melody had reached its climax. The artist and musician lay side by side, tenderly stroking smooth skin and allowing their lips to reunite.
Needless to say, both were relieved that they were able to create something so beautiful, though they knew that only part one was complete. They knew that more was to come in the future, but for now, even great artists need their rest.
A lullaby filled the room; soft, gentle breaths and quiet whispers of affection, just as was required of a lullaby to bring peace to the one able to hear it. This lullaby was only for the artist and the musician.