--Serenade—
Author: Dawn
Rating: PG
Warnings/Pairings: Bakura/Ryou if you squint and look sideways, no other warnings
A/N: An older ficlet, but one that I still like. I attempted to keep the characters IC as much as possible...hopefully it worked ; I don't like the ending much, but, meh. Review, criticize, praise, whatever.
Disclaimer: Dawn does not own Yuugiou or any related aspects.
Song of the Moment: Moonlight Sonata--Beethoven
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The song is sweet and lilting. I do not recognize it, naturally, but I choose to listen to it anyway. Sitting on the edge of the piano seat, I watch.
I don't think my landlord has ever told anyone he can play the piano, and play decently as well. Too damn shy, as usual. But he's always had skilled hands, whether for making detailed models for me, or playing the piano for himself. Suppose he got that from me, somehow. After all, what good thief has useless hands?
Each ivory key is pressed in some odd sort of rhythm. I do not understand this instrument. How does the sound come out from just pressing down on these keys? I would ask, but I do not want him to stop. Though I will not admit it to him, I rather like it when he plays, even if his songs are slow and quiet, like him. I don't want to command him to play, though, for I know it would just make him flustered and anxious as he tries to seek out the nonexistent ulterior motive, and the music would not be the same.
I don't know the name of this song and I don't particularly feel like entering my landlord's mind to find out, as that may alert him to my presence and make him stop. So, I remain invisible to him as he plays. The music is all that really matters...
The song has gained a lower undertone as well as higher notes, making it sound more dramatic, even though the pace has not changed. His pale hair sways as he plays, his eyes unfocused as he stares at the keys. He doesn't need the paper with the black dots anymore—he's played it enough times. I haven't ever asked him why.
His pale, slender fingers, nearly matching the white keys in color, move languidly, stretching and pressing, never too hard, never too long. He'll never change. Suddenly, something unexpected falls onto a key. A small droplet of water...
Looking to his face again, I can see that he's crying. His eyes remain the same, glassy and unfocused behind half-dropped lids, yet now there are crystalline tears slowly traveling down his cheeks. I wonder if he even realizes they are there, dampening the keys and sliding down to pool around his fingertips as he presses down.
I almost want to comfort him, wipe away his tears even though my form wouldn't allow it anyway. Almost. The song is drawing to a close. The low and high notes contrast each other, the high climbing and falling as the low remain steady. They then play together, and the song is done.
His hands fall away, his eyes remaining the same and the tears still there, making damp paths on his cheeks. I return to my soul room before my presence can be noticed. He does not move for a long while.
That night, I entered his unaware mind. The song was Moonlight Sonata, a song that his sister had once loved. Playing it was his way of mourning the dead. And I almost want to comfort him.
Almost.
--Owari--