A/N: My first ever fanfic, so please don't be too harsh! Constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged. moodyriver

There was something about him that changed when he sat at the piano. Perhaps it was the way his pale skin matched so perfectly with the keys, his fingers nearly indistinguishable. Or the look of infinite care that touched his eyes when he began to play, almost like he was holding a child, a breakable thing – something like me. He was a different person with his music, the way he regarded it as powerful, something to be respected. I was awed every time: I knew he was more dangerous to me than anything in the world, but to be so enamored by such a thing, I couldn't understand.

And when he began to play, it was like the world had narrowed to us in that airy room, the notes dancing and swirling and teasing from all corners, right there, so close but so far away. Deep chords resonated and his fingers skipped up the keys, light as a feather. My breath was bated as the composition crescendoed to a soaring climax, but his face was serene, his eyes closed even as the notes crashed around us. Slowly, agonizingly, the sound died away until he held a single key, letting that fade into nothingness as well.

Suddenly, he swiveled his head to face me, so quickly that I couldn't follow his movement. His crooked smile, so familiar, betrayed his joy. I joined him on the maple bench, leaning on his shoulder, hard and cold as ice.

"That was beautiful," I whispered. "Thank you."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Any time."

I wasn't sure how long I sat there with him, encircled in his arms. It could have been hours or only seconds. Footsteps echoed throughout the high rafters of the house, but we ignored them, locked in our own private heaven. He placed his lips on my hair, leaning down every so often to brush them against my cheek, my neck, my temple.

"I wish…." I started to say, breaking the golden silence. His eyes, warm today after his hunt with Jasper yesterday, found mine immediately.

"What?"

"I wish I could even begin to understand how you feel when you play like that," I sighed. "It's not anything I've ever experienced before. To have that much passion for something….I can't wrap my mind around it."

"It's very much the same way I feel about you," he murmured, and my heart jumped at the words. They never failed to thrill me, no matter how many times I heard them. "I have had close to a hundred years to experience this world, but nothing comes close to music…..except," he said, suddenly grinning, "for certain people." He tapped me on the nose playfully before continuing. "It never ceases to amaze me how my heart, silent as it is, can be stirred by a simple melody. Music…..it's so personal for me. A Bach masterpiece will never have the same effect as Linkin Park, but what matters is how I feel when I hear it."

"And writing your music?" I questioned.

"That's different. In some ways, I enjoy it so much more because it means that, if only for a little while, I'm not such a monster. I can express things in ways that humans can understand."

This, at least, I could comprehend somewhat. "Still, how can you compare me, an insignificant human, to your music? Something so unimportant to something stunning?"

He kissed me lightly before answering. "I would say it's the other way around. It's rather fitting that they call you la tua cantante – at times, it does seem that the very depth of my being sings when I'm with you. Perhaps that's why music holds such passion for me."

I simply sat there, awed into silence. He seemed to sense my loss for words and turned back to the keys. He inhaled once and released his breath before beginning my lullaby, and suddenly I felt as though there was no place I would rather be right now than sitting here with him, listening to his music.