"And you can tell everybody
this is your song."
-"Your Song", Elton John
Late at night, it was dark. Only two people were awake, it seemed.
Eve, with her silky black hair in tufts against her shoulder, leaned her head against her palm, her elbow propped against the couch. Her eyes followed the calloused fingers strumming against the thin guitar string. A gentle melody drifted through the air like a whisper, reaching her ears just loud enough for her to hear.
"Write me a song," she breathed, half joking, her eyes slowly dimming.
Micheal, across from her with his fingers poised against the base of the guitar, chuckled softly, finishing a cord with a flick of his thumb, "What about?"
She smiled and closed her eyes. Tired.
"About," she whispered, "how amazing I am."
He laughed again--guttural, purposely quiet--and looked up at her. Her makeup smudged around the circles of her eyes, half of her skin rosy as the white powder rubbed off her palm.
Watching, he flicked the cords in no particular order, "I'll see what I can do."
Eve drifted as notes floated around her, hardly aware they were created for her--only her. All she could tell, in her half conscious state, that she liked it, and how it enveloped her like a warm blanket.
"Nice," she said with an outtake of breath, and her head fell against her shoulder.
Micheal leaned back against the armchair, radically tapping his foot against the corner of the coffee table with the notes. Cords and rhythms worked themselves out seconds before he flicked the strings. It is nice, he wanted to say, your nice.
He didn't, though. Because, A, that was too cheesy even for the corniest of eighties teen flicks. B, because he didn't want to break it, the wonderful silence that these cords barely touched.
The sound of her breathing slowed, and she was asleep.
He kept the melody going, though, until the first signs of orange in the dark sky peaked through the window, until he couldn't play anymore.
He got up and laid his guitar beside her, gently pulling the ratty woven blanket over her slender body.
"Hope you liked your song," he whispered, and the sun rose.
A/N Romance? Me? The bringer of all things angst?