Yellow Notes
By Rainxface
So, here I am, lonely and not very tired on this late, Saturday night. I have nothing to do, I just watched "Carrie", and everyone else in my family is asleep.
And not to mention it's hot where I am right now.
So, I'm going to write a stupid cliché. Whatever. Flame at me all you want, I don't give a frick. Although, I will try to improve on my writing so that you don't have to read any information that sounds a bit wacky to you. I want everything to make sense, please. So, please, help me write better and give me the flames!!
And now, on with whatever my mind has to dish out.
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Fang sat patiently at the piano. The setting sun was lingering in the sky, not yet to its fading horizon outside the window. He sighed.
The black notes on long scores stared at him intensely. Quickly, he did a sweep of the keys; A, B, C, D, E, F, G and all the black sharp and flat notes in between lay begging for a player.
Hesitantly, he drew his hands to the keys. Centimeters before meeting each other, he stopped. He withdrew his hands back into his lap and stared back out the window beyond the grand instrument. Any moment, Max would arrive back home and he would have progressed no where. She would yell at him, curse at him, and then storm out the door. As she usually did.
Fang wiped his head from pretend sweat and gazed blankly at the roughed wood.
Suddenly, a rush of who knows what swept him and he lashed out, pounding his fists onto the keys. There was a great and terrible bleawr with a long, wailing tail as he left his hands on the white and black polished rectangles. His breath, sharp and small, was his only hearing, though.
He did not hear the garage door open. He did not hear the squeak of old tennis shoes on wood flooring. Nor did he hear the sweet female voice call out, "I'm home, Fang!"
All he heard was his breath.
And his breath, although sharp and small, started making a tune. It was interesting, that tune his breath mysteriously composed. Lyrical, like a ballad, and had notes of honey intertwined. He kept the tune going, finding the right keys for the song. In less than thirty seconds, he had the whole song mapped out in his mind.
All he was missing were the words.
Fang played the song, over and over. He racked through his brain, searching the little vocabulary he possessed.
"Fang, baby? Are you alright?" Max asked from the open entry way. She leaned against the wall, folding her arms over her chest.
"Shh," he hushed with one finger pressed against his lips as his other hand continued the song perfectly. "I almost have the song finished."
A smile, light but the brightest she had smiled since after the flock splitting. She walked over to the piano, standing behind her boyfriend.
"I promise I'll finish it tonight," he whispered, still concentrating on the piano and playing. Max rubbed his shoulders and kissed his cheek lightly.
"I'll be putting away the groceries," she whispered to him. She walked away from him and into the kitchen the next room over.
Fang hadn't heard her talk to politely to him in ages. A different type of song came to him, but with the same melody. It was a love song, for his lover. He restarted his song and improvised the words, singing them loud enough to carry into the next room.
"Look at the stars," he began. "Look how they shine for you. And all the things you do." Fang chuckled. "Yeah, they were all yellow. I came along. I wrote a song for you and everything you do. And it was called Yellow."
The first and second verses melted into the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth verses. All of them held the same sweetness and same emotion as the first. Somewhere during the mist of the song, Max had slowly made her way into the piano room. Tears filled in her eyes and she stared shocked at Fang. His song, so precious, so kind, had reminded her of all the good times the couple had ever seen.
As the last note faded into the now moon-lit sky, Fang turned to his girlfriend and looked at her. For the first time in years, he looked at her and took in what he saw. Beauty and strength had always resided with the girl's structure, but as the years wore on, the strength was hidden behind the beauty. Her light brown eyes, matching her caramel hair, were alive again.
Fang stood up and took her in his arms. She buried her head into his chest. Repeating words from the song just written, he kissed her all over her face. Everywhere, but the lips. As they both calmed down, they stared into each other's eyes.
"Look at the stars," he sang lightly to her. "Look how they shine for you." He caught her precious face in his cupped hands and let their lips mingle together.
Cheesey? Yes. Do I care? At 12:30 in the morning, no I don't.
Did I enjoy writing it? Hell yes.
So, this wasn't technically a song-fic since the song wasn't actually fully entered into the story, but it still had my infamous cute parts.
If you have any problems with my story, by all means, let the flames rip. This was a short story while I was chewing my (addicting) gum and at practically the middle of the night. Let me improve on whatever you think I should improve on.
Now I'll put up the disclaimer.
Disclaimer: Maximum Ride goes to James Patterson, "Yellow" lyrics belong to Coldplay, and anything you want to give to me, by all means, give the rights to me. Just kidding. Just the plot and the words not in italics go to moi.
Smiles,
rainxface