My path seems to be sending me in circles
I'm waiting for the winter nights to end
Though my heart speaks twice as much as my lips
My mind has changed too many times to mend.
"No, wait...that forth line seems forced...end, mend, blend, ascend, descend, amend...send. Send letters. Oh!"
My mind has written too many letters to send.
"Ehhhh...still not feeling it. Uhhhhh...I'll stick with the first one."
Blake Belladonna sat at her electric keyboard, notebooks and sheet music strewn about her studio apartment. A single lamp was switched on, bathing the room and it's beige walls in a low, warm yellow. She had a dinner table, a kitchenette with a small counter, a nightstand and a bed. The bed was the only flat surface in the room that wasn't completely blanketed with paper. Well, it was partially covered. Blake would clean up some other time. Tomorrow,she told herself, just as she had yesterday.
Blake played chord after chord on her keyboard, the volume turned down low to avoid drawing the ire of her finicky upstairs neighbor. She sang her verses, doing her best to figure out the best way to meter her words. Though my heart...heart should be on 1. Maybe I should go up an octave for this line?
At 8:21 at night, her Scroll rang. She shuffled her papers around, trying to find the device while grumbling about all the paper that was there solely because of her neglect. She found the Scroll sitting on one of the speakers of her keyboard. She picked it up and answered. "Hello?"
"Is this Blake Belladonna?" Said the gruff voice.
"This is she," Blake confirmed.
"Well hello, Miss Belladonna. I am Harold Hart, owner of the Hart Lounge on 22nd Street."
"Oh!" Blake straightened in her seat, realizing she was speaking to a perspective employer. "Yes, the Hart Lounge. A very lovely place."
She heard Harold chuckle from the other end of the line. "I'm certainly glad you think so." He cleared his throat. "Madam, I apologize for calling so late, but I have an urgent situation. My regular pianist is out indefinitely, and Saturday nights are our busiest times. I've heard tell of your talents and acquired your number from a former employer of yours who sang your praises."
Blake's eyebrows went up. "A former employer?"
"A man by the name of Cutlass."
"Cecil Cutlass recommended me to you?" Blake asked incredulously. Mister Cutlass never seemed to like Blake when she played piano on his tour ferry not too long ago. He always said she was "too original", and that she needed to "appreciate the classics more". The fact that he had served as her reference was astonishing.
"Indeed," Harold Hart confirmed. "From what he told me, I believe you are a good choice to play piano at my bar."
Blake smiled. "Thank you, sir!" Finally! After almost three weeks, she had a gig! "When would I start?"
"Tonight, if that's no trouble."
Blake froze for a moment, her stomach dropping. "Tonight?"
"Yes, that is, if you are able. I'm willing to pay you the same as I pay my regular pianist, and you can take tips as well," Harold offered.
Blake looked down at the song she had just been busy working on. "What would I be playing in your lounge?" She asked.
"You know, tunes people know," he explained. "Be expected to take requests."
"Can I play originals?" Blake asked cautiously, still looking at her music.
Harold was silent for a few seconds. "Well...you're mainly there to play easygoing music for the patrons. It's not a concert." He went silent again, though Blake's feline ears were already dropping with disappointment. "I'd like you to stick to the classics."
Blake held in a sigh, steadying herself to respond. "Of course." A tinge of bitterness accidentally slipped in with her words.
"If you're interested in playing, I'd like you here by nine o'clock, if that's possible."
Blake glanced at the clock. She had a little over thirty minutes until then. From her apartment to 22nd street was about a ten minute bike ride. "Yeah," she answered him. "I'll be there."
"Wonderful!" The man said with delight. "When you get here, I'll be by the piano. Just check in and you'll be set."
"Thank you." Blake told him, and then hung up. She sat back in her seat and sighed, looking up at the speckled roof. She groaned. "Another job being a record player," she muttered.
She got to her feet and changed into a purple v-neck dress. The dress' sleeves reached her wrists, while the length reached her knees. She put on a black belt and black leggings, then a pair of purple flats.
Before she left, she came back over to her keyboard to switch it off. After she did so, she stared at her notebook, the song she called "The Singer's Girl" staring back at her.
In a moment of fleeting courage, Blake grabbed the notebook. She knew Mr. Hart had told her she wouldn't be playing originals, but Blake felt like she needed to bring the notebook. Maybe she could slip a few custom chords in, perhaps sing a little, if the moment felt right.
Sometimes, music just messed with Blake's head, in good ways and bad ways. Blake was certain of one thing: she'd never get tired of it. The only thing she was tired of was only being able to afford cup noodles for each meal.
Blake walked into the lounge ten minutes early. Just as Mr. Hart had said, Saturdays certainly were busy.
It seemed like every seat was filled in the bar. People from all walks of life, Human, Faunus, young and not-so-young, populated the premises. Blake estimated about sixty people were here.
The floors were dark hardwood, with the walls painted a dark maroon and covered with framed photos of music legends from yesteryear. Each wooden table was circular, about twelve in all, and about eight people sat at the bar counter itself. It appeared no one was manning the bar at the moment. Perhaps the bartender was on break.
Towards the far corner of the room was a black grand piano, shining in the low light. As Blake approached, surrounded by the chatter of the bar guests, she got the familiar tingle of excitement she always got when looking at a beautiful piano like this one. She loved grand pianos; no matter how the piano looked or where it was, it sounded like nothing else on Remnant.
However, once Blake spotted a short, pudgy middle aged man with a sporadic dusting of gray hair on his head, who was undoubtedly Harold Hart, Blake was reminded of how no matter how pretty this piano looked, she wouldn't get to play what she truly wanted on it. Despite that, she still had her notebook, tucked inside her jacket.
"Good to meet you, Miss Blake," Harold greeted, shaking Blake's soft, delicate hand with his coarse one. He wore a red polo shirt and black slacks. Blake was taller than him by at least six inches.
"Likewise," she nodded respectfully.
"Well," he gestured to the piano. "It's all dusted and tuned. You can play until it seems like people are beginning to thin out. We close at one in the morning." He then turned away, heading for a door marked "employees only." "I'll be in my office if you need me," he said over his shoulder. He opened the door and stepped through the threshold. Before shutting it, he turned to look at Blake. "Enjoy yourself, but don't get carried away." He then shut the door, leaving Blake alone beside the piano.
She stepped around it, finding her way to the seat. She removed her jacket and sat it and her notebook beneath the bench. She then sat down and looked down at the keyboard, the spotless ivory natural keys and the dark-as-night accidental keys stretched along seven octaves.
Blake closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt the growing feeling of anticipation, the way she always felt before playing in front of people. She loved the feeling, but still longed for a proper audience. She was tired of being background music.
She opened her eyes and positioned her hands above the keys. She thought about what to play. She soon settled on an easy classic tune everyone would recognize. She sat her hands lightly on the keys and prepared to begin...
She heard a sudden thud. She looked up in surprise to see an empty glass pitcher sitting on the piano. Holding the pitcher was a girl, big purple eyes being the first thing Blake noticed about her.
"Figured you'd need a tip jar," the girl said with a lopsided smile. Her long blonde hair waved behind her and she slid the pitcher along the piano until reaching Blake. The girl was now standing beside her as Blake stared up stared up at her. "Can't wait to hear you play," she said, low and quiet. She smiled and, to Blake's bewilderment, winked at her. As the blonde girl turned away, Blake began to blush. She watched as the girl walked around the bar and picked up a towel. She then started drying off glasses and making small talk with the guests. She wore a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up above the elbows, the top three buttons left undone.
She's the bartender? Blake thought to herself, her face feeling hot. I'm suddenly feeling thirsty.
Blake shook her head, refusing to get distracted from her first love: music. She looked back at the piano keys. She remembered what she had been about to play and began. Her fingers danced along the ivories as light, familiar notes flowed from the strings within the instrument. Blake noticed a few people look her way for a moment before returning to their conversations. The piece she was playing was so easy for her, she could afford to look around the room without losing focus. No one was watching her. They all talked and laughed and drank, enjoying the music as if they were listening to a radio. Blake sighed, wondering to herself why she was expecting more out of this.
Her eyes continued to look around the room, until she was surprised by a pair of eyes meeting hers. They were purple, framed by blonde hair.
Blake felt a pang of nervousness hit momentarily as she looked away. Then, she hit a wrong note, causing her cat ears to curl in discomfort. No one noticed, but Blake felt like she had sinned. Missing a note on a simple song like this was unthinkable for her. Of course, she was hard on herself when it came to the piano.
Her first song came to an end, and a short applause followed until fading back to the usual chatter. Blake sighed as she looked down at the keyboard, embarrassed. She missed a note, because a pretty girl looked at her. What a dumb reason to miss a note.
She noticed someone approaching her. A young Human man with brown hair. He smiled at her as he dropped a Lien card in her newly acquired tip jar. "Thank you," Blake said to him as he returned to his seat.
Blake was about to play something else, but her attention went back to the tip jar when she noticed something else get dropped into it by...the girl.
The blonde bartender had come back over, smiling at her. "You're pretty good," she complimented.
Blake chuckled lowly, gingerly grabbing the pitcher to see what this girl had dropped into it. "Thank you," she said to her before pulling out a folded napkin. Blake opened it and read the message:
Dear Piano Girl,
If I may make a request, play something written by you.
Love, Yang
Blake felt her face heat up as she read the note one more time. She looked back up at the bartender, who was smiling such an infectiously bright grin, Blake felt a smile of her own begin to tug at her lips. "I figure..." The bartender, Yang, began to say, resting her arms on the piano. "You have a song or two of your own, Piano Girl."
Blake smiled back, looking off to avoid Yang's blush-inducing gaze. "I do." She looked back for a moment. "But Mr. Hart says I have to stick to simple tunes."
Yang scoffed, waving a hand. "If he gets mad, just say you were filling a request." She leaned forward a little bit. "Hey, can you sing?"
Blake cocked an eyebrow. "I can. Why do you ask?"
Yang chuckled. She then turned away, beginning to walk back to the bar. Over her shoulder, she said "I'm a sucker for girls who can sing." She then went back to work.
Hell yeah, I'm gonna sing, Blake immediately thought, even though she knew singing wasn't in the job description Mr. Hart had provided. Blake really didn't want to get in trouble again for playing too much of her own stuff, but this was a special case. A blonde, beautiful, smooth-as-hell bartender had asked for a Blake Belladonna original. There was no way Blake wasn't taking this chance.
Blake reached beneath her seat and retrieved her notebook from her jacket. She sat it on the stand and opened it. "The Singer's Girl" was right there on the first page. A song Blake had worked on for a very long time. A song Blake thought about all the time.
Blake looked up at the room of people. No one was paying attention. Blake knew she'd take some people by surprise by just bursting into song, so she decided to ease into it. She started playing the opening chords softly. Sweet, sorrowful notes cascaded from the strings. Blake looked over towards Yang, who smiled back at her for a couple seconds, then she looked down at the drink she was making, still smiling.
Blake chuckled to herself. She looked back down at her music, realizing she was almost finished with the intro. She decided it was time to step it up a bit. After cutting off just before the first chorus, Blake sat it silence for a moment before beginning to play from the beginning, this time at full volume.
She drew some eyes as she played a slow, yet driving rhythm. She acknowledged Yang, who still looked down at her drink, still smiling. Blake knew what she had to do to make Yang look back at her again, and as the first few lyrics came near, she knew this would get her attention.
"My dear, do you feel what I feel
When the sun sinks behind the trees?
My love, can you feel what I feel
When I go another day without you?"
Yang looked over at the girl, every part of her body still as she listened. The brunette Faunus girl's eyes were turned down towards her music, her mouth moving slightly with each word she sang. Her voice was soft and gentle, yet strong enough to fill the room with no need for a microphone. The room had ceased all conversation. Everyone was listening to Piano Girl.
And with each line she sang, Yang fell for Piano Girl over and over again.
"If I sing just a while, I know you will smile
If I sing for the world, I'll be singing for you
You're this Singer's Girl
You're this Singer's Girl."
Yang closed her eyes and smiled, feeling a flood of emotions. This beautiful girl was playing her a love song. Yang couldn't be certain, but she wanted to believe that Piano Girl had picked this song specifically. "You're this Singer's Girl." I hope so.
Blake was lost in her music. She had practiced this song so many times, she didn't need to even look at the sheet music anymore. She sang the song like she was truly talking to someone she loved.
Blake looked up and immediately looked towards Yang. They made eye contact, and Blake smiled softly as she sang the final verse:
"Sometimes I dream I could one day
Write a perfect song or two
But it's always easy for me to say
A perfect I love you."
She played the last few notes again on the keys, slowing down gradually until ending on a slow upward arpeggio. Blake held the last note, feeling goosebumps cover her body as the sound faded. She rested her hands on her lap and looked up.
The entire bar filled with applause, hollers and whistles, dozens of people smiling at her, all eyes looking her way, but the only pair of eyes Blake cared about were those of the bartender. Yang was grinning widely, a gleam in her eyes and a blush on her cheeks as she clapped. Blake smiled back at her, then stood to her feet and waved to the people, acknowledging and thanking them for the applause. The clapping died down, and Blake immediately made her way to the bar. She passed plenty of people who were heading up to the piano to place tips in the pitcher. She received a compliment here and there as she approached.
Yang leaned her elbow on the bar, watching Piano Girl approach. Her shining amber eyes, her long, curly black hair with cat ears perked atop her head, every little aspect of this girl made Yang lose her usual air of confidence, replaced by nervousness and wonder. Yang had never met a girl quite like her, and she didn't even know her name.
Blake settled her hands atop the counter as she stood across from Yang. The blonde's jaw hung low a bit, amazement evident on her face. Blake couldn't help but laugh. "Well? Did you like it?"
Yang blinked a couple times before focusing on Blake's eyes. Her kind, beautiful eyes. "I did." Yang nodded, then shook her head. "I mean...you were amazing," she stuttered nervously.
Blake chuckled, leaning forward on the counter a bit, moving ever so slightly towards Yang. "Thank you."
Yang noticed the girl's slight advance and chuckled, rubbing her elbow. "Hey, uhh, would you like a drink?" She asked her.
Blake tilted her head to the side, considering Yang's offer. "Sure. Something with coconut." She smiled. "It reminds me of the beach."
Yang chuckled, reaching beneath the counter to retrieve the necessary ingredients. "You like the beach?" She asked.
"I love the beach." Blake nodded, resting her cheek in her hand, elbow on the counter.
With a smile, Yang began making Blake's drink, moving quickly from one task to the next with impressive quickness. Yang noticed the way Piano Girl was looking at her. Her eyes traveled all around Yang, from her hair to her face to her to her hands to her chest. Judging by the absentminded smile on the girl's face, she was enjoying her view. Yang couldn't help but giggle, reaching over and putting her hand beneath the girl's chin, gently bringing her eyes up to meet hers. "What's your name?" Yang asked her.
Blake shuttered slightly at the feeling of Yang touching her. Yang removed her hand from Blake's chin as she answered. "Blake."
Yang's smile tugged leftward. "That's a very sweet name."
Something went off in Blake's mind. She realized she had an opportunity to push the romantic envelope. Blake smirked at Yang. "And you're a very sweet girl."
Yang giggled, almost finished making Blake's drink. "You think I'm sweet? But we just met, how do you know I'm sweet?"
Blake shrugged. "I can just tell."
Yang grinned as she pushed Blake's finished drink towards her. "Well, you seem like a pretty sweet girl yourself."
Blake smiled. She gave the drink a try. It was very coconut-heavy, but also had a bit of a bite from the added alcohol. "I like it." Blake nodded. "Thank you, Yang."
"No problem, Piano Girl," Yang said back, intentionally forgoing her real name in favor of her cute nickname. "Well, I bet you ought to get back to playing before Old Man Hart has a tantrum."
Blake set her drink down, sighing with a nod. "Yeah, I guess you're right." She got to her feet and began to turn back towards the piano, only to feel her hand get grabbed gently.
"Or..." Yang hummed as Blake turned back around to see the blonde smirking. "Since my shift ends in five minutes," Yang tilted her head to the side, leaning her elbow on the counter as she peered up at Blake. "Maybe you could...take me to your place and give me a private concert?"
Yang's grip on her hand was strong but soft. Blake trailed her eyes along Yang's arm, noticing its tone and faint tan. She had to make a conscious effort to retain the words Yang had just said before Blake got too distracted by the beautiful girl's appearance. She was about to formulate a response, but her eyes found their way to Yang's undone collar, and she lost her train of thought as she gradually lowered her glare towards the yellow tank top peeking out from Yang's white shirt.
Blake heard Yang chuckle lowly, the girl reaching up to place her hand gently on Blake's cheek. Blake's golden eyes flicked up to look at her. Yang was obviously blushing, but her smirk remained. "Trust me," She began. "You'll have more fun playing some of your own music for me, instead of Harold chewing you out for it." Yang let her hand retreat from Blake's face. "After all, like I said..." Yang grabbed Blake's glass off the counter, and without breaking eye contact, she finished the drink off in a single lift to the mouth. She exhaled and sat the glass down. "I'm a sucker for girls who can sing," She whispered.
Blake felt like melting under the view of that glorious smirk. Blake felt imprisoned in that stare, and Yang's lavender eyes refused to free her. Blake could not think of anything else except yes yes yes yesssss...
Yang let go of Blake's hand and winked at her. "Like I said, my shift's about over. If you wanna sing for me some more, just call me." Yang then reached under the counter and retrieved a jacket. She turned and began to head for the door.
"W-wait!" Blake called, causing Yang to stop and look back just as she was leaving the bar area. "I don't have your number."
Yang smirked once again. "Check your sleeve."
Blake narrowed her eyes in confusion, then looked down to her wrists. She felt inside the sleeves of her dress and, to her surprise, found a small napkin tucked into her left sleeve. She unfolded it and found a Scroll number, as well as a drawing of a heart and a couple music notes.
Blake looked back up to smile at Yang, but she was no longer standing there. Blake turned her head just in time to see her leave the bar, her black jacket around her.
Blake's heart was beating with haste as she watched Yang leave. She looked back down at the napkin. She wanted to run after her. She wasn't done talking to her. She wasn't done looking at her.
Blake immediately hurried back to the piano and grabbed her notebook and jacket. She hadn't taken two steps away from the instrument when she heard the voice of Harold Hart. "Blake! Where are you going?"
Without slowing her pace or even looking towards the man, Blake answered him. "Something important came up." She reached the front door.
Hart growled and shook his fist in the air. "I ain't paying you a cent!" He yelled, but Blake was already gone.
Blake looked up and down the street, searching for Yang. Much to Blake's extreme disappointment, the beautiful bartender was nowhere to be seen. Just as quickly as she had appeared to Blake, she was gone, leaving behind nothing but a Scroll number on a napkin.
Blake stared down at the number, acknowledging the obvious effort put into the heart and music notes. It made her smile.
She stood by her the bike, pulled out her Scroll, and immediately typed in the number.
Yang answered almost instantly. "Well," she said. Blake could almost hear her smirking. "That didn't take very long at all, Piano Girl."
Blake chuckled. "How'd you know I'm the one calling?"
Yang huffed a laugh. "I guess because you're standing right in front of me."
Blake raised her eyebrows and looked around. To her astonishment, she saw Yang approaching her, Scroll held to her ear with a smile on her face.
Blake lowered her Scroll and laughed as Yang neared. "Were you hiding from me?"
"Yeah." Yang put her own Scroll away as she shrugged.
"Why?" Blake asked.
Yang winked and took Blake's hand. "I wanted to see how quick you'd call me." She stepped closer, standing beside Blake and pulling her along so they could walk hand-and-hand. "Think you called pretty soon?"
Blake laughed and blushed. "Maybe a little early."
Yang laughed the cutest, most genuine laugh she could muster. "I think you called just in time. I would've been pretty sad if you hadn't come running after me." Yang leaned towards Blake a bit, their shoulders touching. "I've never met someone like you."
Blake raised her shoulders and chuckled, feeling flustered. "What makes me so unique?"
Yang stopped, bringing Blake to stop with her. Blake looked over at Yang and saw her smiling the softest possible smile. "Blake," she said quietly. "You're unique because you've made me feel something unique. When you sang that song, I felt it. I felt like you wrote that song with a specific someone in mind, but you didn't know who that someone was. Well..." Yang took Blake's other hand, staring into the girl's amber eyes. "I feel...I hope...that song was about me."
Blake blinked a few times. "I..." Blake began, but needed a few more moments before continuing. "I wrote that song because I wanted to sing it to someone special someday."
Yang nodded, smiling wider than before. "Well...is that what you did tonight?" Yang leaned forward a bit, her smiled being replaced with a hopeful expression. "Did you sing that song for me?"
Blake held her breath, suddenly feeling taken aback by Yang's attractiveness yet again. Her lavender eyes captured her thoughts, garnering a feeling of wonder from the brunette Faunus. Blake felt like she wasn't quite fully awake, as if this was the most realistic lucid dream she had ever experienced.
But it was true. Blake was willing to wager that, had Yang not been there that night, Blake probably would never have played "The Singer's Girl." Yang was the reason she sang.
Blake sang that song for her.
Blake let go of Yang's hands and instead wrapped her arms around the girl's waist, causing Yang to stiffen and stare at her in bewilderment. But Blake smiled at her, maintaining their eye contact while enjoying the feeling of Yang slowly returning the embrace. After a few more seconds of warmth, Blake nodded, then asked quietly, "Yang?"
Yang inhaled heavily, perhaps trying to not seem nervous. "Yes, Blake?"
Blake grinned, a feeling of pure giddiness rising in her chest. "Will you be this Singer's Girl?"
Yang exhaled, and to Blake's delight, a grin took over her face. Yang pulled Blake to her and hugged her tight. "I would love that," she answered.
Blake giggled and rested her chin on Yang's shoulder. Just like when Yang had grabbed her hand before, this hug was strong, yet gentle. Blake would never get tired of the feeling.
Yang refused to let go. Instead, she turned her head a bit to speak quietly into Blake's ear. "So...got some more songs to sing for me?"