So I just recently saw Corpse Bride, and instantly fell in love with it. And I got the idea of a really young Victor listening to Emily play piano, and I had to write it. Enjoy!
Victor was but a young boy of five, who's mother unfortunately would drag him shopping at least once a week. Though why she bothered he had no idea, as she told him to stay out of her way and not bother her. With this level of supervision she might as well have just left him home alone. At least then he could sketch or read or really just do anything but wander the street.
Though it was one such shopping trip that, a street over from the shops, passing a grand house the boy could just barely make out the faint sound of a piano from within. He stopped and standing as tall he could on the very tips of his toes and pulling himself up with the window ledge he could just barely see into the room through the front window. Inside was a young woman, with long raven hair, sitting at the piano. She smiled as her hands glided over the keys creating music. He let go of the ledge and slowly lowered himself to the ground, leaning against the stone of the building. He drew his bony knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, content to listen and daydream. He hardily noticed the looks people gave him as they passed.
Eventually the sound of the piano stopped, and peeking into the room he discovered the woman was no longer there, having finished practicing for the day. He made his way back to the shops, and his mother scolded Victor upon finding him for wandering off, and making her look for him. He merely followed her silently back to the carriage.
Every shopping trip from then on Victor would go a street over and take a seat below the window of the building. The woman wasn't always practicing, but more often then not she was. He passed many an hour under that window, only leaving when he was sure his mother must be done.
One day the woman in the house grew curious of the weird looks people kept giving her window, as she had noticed it happening more and more frequently when she practiced. So mid melody she had gotten up and thrown the window open, and looking down found Victor sitting there. The boy's already large eyes widened, pale face growing paler, and he scrambled up. She smiled softly at him.
"Hello there. Were you listening to me practice?" The boy ducked his head, looked up at her through his dark hair, and nodded mutely. "Do you come often?" Another nod.
"Y-y-you...p-play..very...very n-nicely." He stuttered out, so quietly she barely heard.
"Thank you." Her smile grew. "Would you like me to continue?" He nodded again, having reached his verbal limits with the four words from earlier. So she returned to the piano, leaving the window open. After finishing the song she had stopped half way through, and playing two others she returned to the window, but Victor had left.
The two did not interact again, but the woman would leave the window partly open when she practiced so that her "little friend" (as she referred to him as when speaking of the boy to others) would be able to hear her better.
It wasn't long after that a man started to visit her. Victor would hear him sometimes, talking to her between songs. And one time he'd come in as the boy was sitting there. He of course noticed the boy sitting under the window, then wrinkling his nose, he'd growled lowly: "Get out of here you little urchin." The timid boy was scared into leaving early that day. Due to the presence of the man Victor went to that house less and less, and if he did go he made sure to slip away at any sign of someone coming or going.
Then the music just stopped.
The piano remained silent. Peeking into the house curiously Victor was unable to spot the young woman, and the house seemed gloomier and darker then usual. Though he continued to return for several weeks, thinking that maybe she was on a trip or something. But after two months of no piano music and no girl, Victor stopped coming.
Not long after Victor was given a piano of his own, as it was something his mom insisted that all people of high society had, and he for once did not mind her attempt at being fancy. He learned to play the large piano, trying to replicate his favorite songs that the girl played.
But as often is the case with young children, memories begin to dim as they grow older. Thus the memory of the house, and the young women faded away, but the melodies never did.