Disclaimer- music and lyrics is obviously not mine!
I'm normally a Harry Potter writer- hence the name. Had to write this though. Haven't written in so long because I haven't had time. Have a kidney infection right now so I can take time off from studying guilt free! If you haven't seen the film you need to know that Sophie is played by Drew Barrymore and her character is a hypocondriac - and she's the lyricist of their partnering. Hugh Grant plays alex and his character used to be in an 80s band called PoP! He writes the music.
"I was thinking of taking up the piano." Sophie said as she ran her fingers lightly over the black finish of the piano, her eyes avoiding his.
"I think that's an excellent idea; brilliant hobby. And I could teach you!" Alex said, excitement bubbling over as he took a seat on the piano stool, patting the space beside him for her to sit down.
"I wasn't really thinking of it as a hobby." She mumbled, fiddling with her hair as she avoided his gaze once again.
"What were you thinking of it as then?" He asked as he turned on the stool to look at her closer.
"A career enhancement maybe?"
"A career enhancement. Ah, I see..." He said making no attempt to cover the tone of sadness in his voice. He slowly ran his fingers across the ivory keys, not making a sound.
"For days when you're sick." She said quickly, looking at him for the first time.
"But I'm never sick." He caught her gaze, a twinkle in his eyes.
"You are too." She smiled, seeing that his sorrow was all an act.
"Name me one time I've been sick in the entire time you've known me."
"There was more than one time... err... remember? You got a paper cut! That was an awful day." She paused, thinking back to the day, unconsciously holding her index finger as she felt his pain. "All the blood and you still hadn't got around to getting a first aid kit..."
"It was a paper cut." He said matter-of-factly, taking her hands in his to break her from her reverie. "To my knowledge, in the whole history of man, no one has ever died from a paper cut. I fact, I think that paper is free from all guilt of murder – except maybe a letter that someone has died of shock from reading- but then that would still be considered an accident or the writer's fault I suppose."
"Okay, okay. I don't want to learn to play for when you're sick."
"Why do you want to learn then?"
"I wanted to learn so I could write a song for your birthday." She said, looking away from him once again.
"But you hate melody."
"I don't hate melody- and anyway, I'd love ourmelody."
"I already do."
"What do you mean? We don't have a song." Her eyes fell on him again, his gaze never leaving her.
"Sure we do. What was it..." He said, looking at the keys of the piano as though remembering a song. "A melody is like seeing someone for the first time. The physical attraction. Sex. And I love our melody."
Alex stood, pulling Sophie close to him their eyes meeting before he kissed her passionately.
"And you don't need to learn piano for it- though you play very well underneath the piano." He waggled his eyebrows at her, running his hand down her spine.
"Mmmm... I love our melody too. And our lyrics..."
"And our lyrics..."
"But what am I going to get you for your birthday? What do you get for the man who has everything?" She asked as she put her arms around his neck.
"I do not have everything." He paused, Sophie looking at him with interest. "I don't have a first aid kit."
"I can't get you a first aid kit for your birthday." She said, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.
"Shoes possibly?" He suggested, pulling away from her to take a drink from his mug, before spitting it out again. "Someone to teach you how to make coffee?"
"You should be used to my coffee by now."
"I have no desire to get used to it. From now on I make the coffee or we go out to a coffee shop." He said while pouring the black liquid down the sink.
"You always end up singing in coffee shops- attracting more fans over."
"They love us- can I help it if the fans want to hear me sing?"
"They don't have to ask you to sing, you just do it because you like to."
"I do it to see you smile."
"What would make me smile is if you tell me what you want for your birthday." She said as she sat down in the armchair, sinking into it as she crossed her arms.
"Shoes." He stated as he handed her a cup of coffee.
"You have tonnes of shoes! Granted, they're all trainers, which you were with suits and everything..."
"They are comfortable." He defended. "And they mean I can dance." Demonstrating to her his Pop! Hip dance move.
"Which you do all the time- even when no one asks." She laughed.
Alex pulled her to her feet, spinning her around before pulling away a doing another hip Pop!.
"And I don't hear you complaining when we're underneath the piano..." He once again pulled her to him, kissing along her jaw.
"I am very grateful you have not had to have a hip replacement like all the other Pop! members."
"It's because I never get sick."
"Still doesn't answer what you want."
"I want you." He started to once again kiss along her jaw.
"You already have me."
"For eternity?" He asked between kisses.
"'Til death do us part." Her hands running through his hair.
"That does make it a bit harder."
"You can have anything at all."
"Anything?" He asked as he stopped his ministrations to look in her eyes.
"Yes."
"I know what I want. I want you to "dance with me tonight"." He sang to her.
"We can do that any night." She sighed in despair.
"On these?" He asked as he lifted a catalogue out from the piano stool, pointing to a picture of Beat Pad dance mat whilst Sophie rolled her eyes at him. "And then you can show me your moves under here-" He said as he took the catalogue out of her hands and led her to the other end of the piano.
"I do love our melody." She said, once again putting her hands around his neck.
"And I love our lyrics... Mrs Fletcher."
Fin.
