His heart pounded, caressing the leather-bound violin case. How long had it been since he had picked up a violin? Tatsumi honestly couldn't tell. Maybe ten years? Maybe longer?

This was the first time in the last five years he had even brought the case down to even look at. Sweat poured down his forehead, the back of his neck and his palms. All signs he shouldn't keep going. He wiped his hands discreetly on his pants; he moved his shaking hands to open the clasps one by one.

The world fell away as the case opened slightly and he could see the aged Spruce in the low light of the lamp sitting next to the table. The bottom of the violin was made out of Maplewood and stained a beautiful chestnut brown to make his hair. It was the violin he had for only a few months as a professional. He would much rather have loved to have his beginning violin, but he couldn't lie and say he didn't love this violin to a degree too. It was just the fact that this violin was the one he broke down in front of everyone with. Perhaps he owed this violin something since it wasn't the violin's fault he broke in the middle of the concert. It was as if all the notes, all the positions, it all flew from his head and suddenly he just couldn't play anymore. His arms wouldn't move even if he wanted them too. The brights light made him dizzy and lightheaded until the stage gave way and he fell down.

Swallowing the thick lump back down, Tatsumi glanced up to the stranger who had begged him to play. Amethyst eyes, wide and round, pleading with him to keep going. Why Tatsumi even agreed to this he wasn't sure, but here he was wrapped up in a spell of amethyst petals.

Focusing on the violin again, he gingerly picked it up. Breath shortened, he didn't hear the other move to his side, but there was a warmth on his shoulder. Stiffening, Tatsumi closed his eyes. It was just a violin. Opening them again, he checked over the violin's condition. It's oiled surface just as he remembered it. An old friend, that's what the violin felt like. His mother wasn't demanding him to play, he didn't have to do anything he didn't want. This time he picked it up for someone who admired his work. Who wanted to hear the songs Tatsumi created, not the songs from long-dead composers.

The bow was loose. His hands easily set the violin down in his lap. With practiced grace, he tightened the hair on the bow, examining it with a much wiser eye. He didn't want to play and suddenly the hair break. Not when it seemed to mean so much for the stranger.

As if sensing Tatsumi was fine, the stranger went back to sit partly on the table, his legs barely touching the ground as he waited patiently. Silently thankful, Tatsumi picked up the violin with ease as he placed it under his chin. The familiar feeling returning to his body as he brought up the bow. His hands knew what to do as the hair ran across the strings in a single out of tune note. He cringed at the tone. Glancing at the stranger, he saw him sitting there slightly forward, eyes anticipating.

"…. I need to tune it," Tatsumi said quietly as he pulled the violin down to start adjusted the pegs a little and testing it out again. Somehow, with those amethyst eyes watching him, Tatsumi found the courage to keep going. When it was tuned properly, he took the violin back to his chin.

Swallowing again, he was still unsure of himself and unsure about the violin in his hands. The familiarity of it all there was a strange distance he felt as his hand suddenly moved on its own to pluck out a tune he had made up years ago. Though it was hesitant and tentative at first as he closed his eyes. One wrong note and he stopped, looking at the stranger, eyes pulled him in, encouraging him once more to keep going.

Somehow with just a stranger spewing his love for the music Tatsumi used to play, asking for just one song, he didn't know what spell the stranger had put on him. But it translated itself into the music as he slowly grew more confident and he eyes closed once more. More sure of where to put his hand and the position of the bow, he shifted in his seat. The beat took over as he tapped his foot in time with the notes, creating a melody he once loved. His world was only the violin and the music it produced.

Standing suddenly, he let his body move with the motion of the bow. He twisted this way and then that way, as he continued to play the music that he missed so much. Finally, being able to touch the violin after so long, it was like coming home to a part of himself that he didn't know still existed.

When the song ended, and he stood there chest heaving, Tatsumi felt free. Truly and utterly free for the first time since he quit playing that day. Eyes fluttering open, he saw amethyst eyes even wider and a bewildered look that had Tatsumi draw close to him. Gratitude filled him as he gave a genuine smile to the stranger who helped him gain a part of his life he thought was lost forever. His body moved before he could overthink what he was about to do.

He kissed the stranger on the lips.