A/N: Yay! I finally got to finish chapter two! Before anything else, I wanted to tell you all that Pirate123 made me a wonderful drawing about the scene where Flynn teaches Yuri how to play the piano. It's a marvellous artwork, so go see it! The link is in my profile owo
And now, since you've been waiting for it for quite some time, I won't make you wait any longer ;p See you down there!
Disclaimer: Each and every characters that are from the world of Vesperia belong to Namco. Otherwise, they're usually historical characters that I've tweaked ;p
Second movement
The next morning, Yuri woke up to the sound of knocking on the door. With a groan, he turned over in his bed, trying to ignore it and go back to sleep. He did not know what time it was, but it was far too early for him to get up yet. He was still tired, especially since he did not sleep so well during the night. He was so furious at and worried about Flynn that he woke up every hour or so, making his slumber a rather confusing one where rest definitely was not a part of it. The sudden thought of Flynn reminded the dark haired man how the former suddenly fell ill the previous evening and how he definitely should not get up. If the knocking kept up, the pianist was sure to go answer the door. With a resigned sigh, Yuri sat in his bed, running a hand through his long strands to half comb their dishevelled look. His eyes searched for the stick he laid against the wall the previous day and grabbed it once he found it before he made his way to the entrance, where the knocking had not stopped. On the contrary, it seemed to be more insistent now. This was putting him in a bad mood. Who could be visiting at such an hour?
When he opened the door, he was met by the sight of a woman smaller than he was, her long and wavy chocolate hair tied in a ponytail. Her eyes the same colour as her hair stared apologetically at Yuri as she nervously grabbed the fabric of her marine long skirt, part of her uniform, labelling her as the errand girl working for Flynn.
"I'm sorry, Yuri. I forgot my key," she apologized in a small voice. Yuri placed a hand on his hip and sighed heavily, his annoyance melting into discouragement. This girl was so absent-minded; it was a wonder why the pianist still let her do the job.
"Again? Victoria, this is seriously starting to get too much. I already told you many times, what if Flynn and I can't answer you? You know it's important that you bring the errands during morning, that's why Flynn gave you a key," Yuri chastised, moving on the side to let the girl named Victoria enter with a few bags she left on the floor as she knocked. She squirmed uncomfortably under his disappointed gaze and turned to face the dark haired man to apologize yet again as she walked backwards.
"I'm really, really sorry Yuri. Please don't tell Mr. Chopin. I'll try even harder, I prom– ack!"
Obviously, because she was not looking where she was headed, she hit a desk in the hallway and the vase lying on top swayed dangerously. Yuri's eyes widened and he quickly went to catch it as it fell towards the floor. He managed to save it, thanks to the tip of his fingers, but he hissed loudly in pain and quickly put the vase down to grab his leg. In his hurry to catch the object, he'd put weight on his leg and now it hurt like hell. God, this was definitely not his morning and he could feel irritation slowly building up inside him again. He could see Victoria's eyes were wide as saucers and she kneeled beside him, flailing.
"I-I'm sorry! Yuri, are you alright? Where are you hurt?" she asked in worry, but the other man merely glared at her in response.
"I'm fine," he answered coldly. "Just go put the bags in the kitchen and look where you're going."
She flinched at his tone as guilt shone in her chocolate irises before she grabbed the bags once more and did as she was asked, this time really making sure not to slip up. Yuri sighed softly, regretting talking to her like that. Victoria was clumsy, but she was not a bad girl. She did not deserve to be subject of his bad mood. Besides, now that he thought about it, it might not be a bad thing that she forgot her key and woke Yuri up. That way, he could ask her to go fetch a doctor for Flynn. The long haired man did not know how the musician would be feeling after a night of rest, but he wanted to make sure that he would be all right none the less. He entered the kitchen where the errand girl was currently placing bottles of milk inside the ice box[1] which was freshly iced – thankfully, the man bringing the ice never forgot his key – and leaned on the doorway.
"Look, I'm sorry Victoria. I'm a bit of in a bad mood this morning. I didn't mean to be mad at you like that," he apologized. The brunette turned around and smiled brightly at Yuri. She was a really cheerful girl.
"It's okay, I should be the one apologizing. I almost broke a vase after all, and you got hurt because of it." Well, technically, it was not because of it, but Yuri was not about to enter into details.
"Let's just not think about it anymore. I have a favour to ask of you." She perked up, and Yuri knew that it meant she was listening. "Flynn's not been feeling well since last night and I'm not really able to go get a doctor. Would you mind go fetch one for him? If you're too busy with work, though, just forget about it."
She shook her head and smiled. "If I can be of help, I'll do it. I can manage to squeeze that errand between all my others, especially if Mr. Chopin is not feeling well," she agreed and the dark haired man smiled at her.
Victoria was a really nice girl and, despite her clumsiness, Yuri knew that Flynn would not be able to do much if she was not around. He thanked the brunette who returned to work. He decided to leave her alone and go check on how the pianist was doing. The door to his room was closed, but thankfully not locked, and so Yuri opened it silently, not wanting to wake his friend up if he was still asleep. He realised his hunch was good as his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside and he saw the musician's sleeping form lying in bed. His eyes were closed and his breathing was low and even. However, Yuri realised with worry that it was wheezing, making it almost painful to hear. The dark haired man could not tell if it was worst than last night, but it definitely did not seem better.
Slowly, he reached for the bed and gently sat on the mattress next to Flynn's body. He did not wake up even with the shift of the mattress, which made Yuri smile in concern. Flynn was usually a light sleeper. That Yuri was able to move around without waking the blonde meant that the latter was really out of it. Without realising it, the long haired man raised his hand to gently stroke the blonde strands. He slipped the most rebellious ones behind Flynn's ears, his fingers barely touching the skin, as though he was doing something forbidden. He then moved his forefinger across the pianist's cheek, running it down to the latter's chin, his gaze focused in some sort of trance. Yuri was fascinated by the musician's soft skin, but most of all, he was fascinated by his beauty. Flynn was handsome, especially when sleeping – even when he was not feeling well. Yuri only realised what he was thinking when the other stirred and his eyes fluttered open. Gasping silently, the dark haired man removed his hand quickly, scared to be caught. The pianist did not realise what was going on and merely laid confused blue irises on his friend.
"Hmm... Yuri?" The inquired one noticed how Flynn's voice was hoarse and a bit weak, only adding to the former's worry. "What are you doing here?"
"Morning to you too," Yuri rolled his eyes with a smirk. "I came to check up on you. How're you feeling?" Flynn smiled as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand before a light and short coughing fit ceased him.
"I've been better," he finally answered in a few puffs of breath. "But I'll be fine. I'm just surprised you came to see me. I was sure you'd be so furious at me, you would avoid me as much as possible," the pianist confessed, closing his eyes to hide the hurt shining inside as he turned his head away from Yuri.
The latter was reminded the events of the previous night and Flynn's words echoed in his mind once again. I can't. I can't, I'm sorry. A speckle of anger flared up inside him at the memory, but Yuri found that as hard as he wanted to be mad at Flynn, he could not. The dark haired man inwardly cursed at himself and cursed at the musician at the same time. He simply could not believe how his worry for his friend overpowered the need for his lost memories. Because Flynn was right. Yuri felt that, in normal times, he would have ignored the blonde and avoided him, too furious at being refused his memories – which anyone would find normal. However, the fact that the pianist was sick served in quelling the long haired man's anger. Flynn was... more important. Why though? This did not make any sense! What was really Flynn to Yuri? What was Yuri to Flynn? This was just too much!
"Don't be so full of yourself! I'm still angry at you for not even telling me the most important thing to me. It's just that I know you're sick, so I can't possibly leave you alone." His tone, even though harsh, held less biting than it should have and Yuri was sure that the blonde noticed as well. The musician smiled a strained smile at his friend.
"I'm sorry, Yuri," he whispered earnestly, which only fuelled the concerned one's irritation.
"Don't. Just don't. If you're just going to apologize and say nothing else, than just shut up about it. It can't be helped anyway since you won't say a word, right? I'll just have to find a way to remember on my own," Yuri cut the other's apology, fists balling.
He hated this, hated knowing that someone knew possibly everything about him while he was kept in complete darkness. It was unfair. Why was it so important for him not to remember? Because that was obviously what Flynn wanted. Otherwise, he would tell Yuri everything.
Silence settled between the two, both deep in thoughts. Tension was building and, soon, the dark haired man could not take it anymore. He needed to change the subject.
"You finished composing?" he inquired about the piano piece Flynn had been working on for the past week and a half.
After all, if the musician found him the day before, it meant that he was finished with his work and thus was not in his focused state where nothing else mattered but his music. Now that he thought about it, Yuri was glad that Flynn finished just in time. Otherwise, he knew that he would have been killed back there. He was also lucky that the blonde also searched in the commoners' quarter. Yuri wondered how much time the pianist had been searching before he found the raven male.
Flynn nodded as he looked back at his friend. "Yes, it's done and ready to go to my editors. I hope to get a good price out of it," he answered.
Another part of the pianist's job, Yuri realised. Of course. He would not be writing music pieces in such frenzy if it did not help him make a living. Well, maybe he would a little. It was Flynn they were speaking of. From the little time Yuri knew him, he did not find hard to believe that the musician was the type to not want to stop something until it was done and done well. It was a good aspect, but maybe it was bordering excessive on Flynn's part...
"Nice. What's it called?"
"Grand Waltz Brilliant. I'd tell you the opus, but I doubt you would understand for now, so I'll spare you until I'll teach you most of the useful music terms," Flynn told with an amused smile, especially when Yuri raised an eyebrow. The latter seemed to doubt that such information was even remotely useful.
"Trust me, you'll want to know at some point. There are too many pieces that have the same names: sonatas, waltzes, marches and others like that. And yes, it is normal that they use the same names," the pianist added, going ahead of Yuri's question almost leaving the latter's lips. "They indicate which type of music they are. It's rather rare that a composer will give an original name to a song, and even if he does, it's usually a name added to the one of the music's type."
It seemed that, despite his words, Flynn was still giving Yuri a music course.
"Huh... like your farewell song, I guess? What type is it?" The dark haired man wondered, getting interested in the conversation, mostly now that it included the music he badly wanted to learn. Music was Flynn's world, and it was a world Yuri eagerly wished to be a part of. And for that, the most he could learn, the better it was.
... Wait, did he just really think that? He wished to be part of Flynn's world? What did that even mean? It made no sense whatsoever! He was mad at Flynn; he was not supposed to contemplate such idiotic ideas! "An etude," the blonde stopped Yuri's train of thoughts.
"Etudes are designed for practicing certain technical skills. Though I consider farewell to be a bit more special than that," the pianist finished evasively, not adding anything else, leaving the raven male irked. Flynn was keeping more secrets from him.
This time, however, Yuri did not comment on it. It was about his friend's life, not his own. Flynn had the right to keep things for himself, even if it left a bad taste in Yuri's mouth. Just like the time he discovered that very song, his heart told him it hated the fact that someone could have been this important to the musician; more important than Yuri himself.
Ugh! What was with him today?
He was saved from thinking anything stupider when there was a knock on the opened bedroom door. Both men turned their heads to the source of the sound and saw the same doctor who took care of Yuri the previous night. Victoria had been quick with that errand – surely because she had other things to attend to – and the raven male was grateful for it. The latter grabbed his stick and stood from the bed to leave the room. This way, Flynn would have some privacy as he would get examined.
Yuri took that time to go into the pianist's study and sit on the piano's bench. Since the moment his friend started composing, Yuri was not able to access the study to practice. Now that Flynn was finished and was now lying in bed, the long haired man would finally be able to play. As his fingers lightly brushed the keys, he inhaled deeply to gain concentration. He missed the feeling of the smooth ivory under his fingertips. Slowly, Yuri started with the do scale, before he gradually moved on to harder techniques he learnt, then to songs of a book Flynn told him he would be able to practice both his note reading and techniques. The raven male tried out new music pieces, playing so slowly that he did not recognize any melody. It irritated him, but he never gave up, wanting to get better, even when after so many mistakes, he wanted to slam the keys and push the piano away. This took way too much patience.
"Not bad. I would've lost patience ages ago," someone voiced Yuri's thoughts and the latter started, his fingers playing wrong notes that rang such a false sound it made him wince. He spun around to see the doctor coming his way, an amused expression on his face. The dark haired man sighed deeply, attempting to calm his hammering heart.
"Mind not scaring me like that next time?" he requested. "My heart didn't take it too well." The doctor worded an apology as he walked to the low table near the couch, the novice pianist observing him putting down his case on the furniture. "How is he?" Yuri inquired, the worry for Flynn now back. He really hoped it was not anything too serious.
"These breathing problems are frequent as of late, but he should be fine with lots of rest, rich food and hot packs[2] on his chest to help his lungs. I'm still working on finding what is plaguing him, unfortunately, but I doubt it is anything too serious if it goes away with my treatments," the specialist explained.
Despite the words, Yuri pursed his lips. He did not like to hear that this was a recurring sickness for Flynn. What if the doctor was wrong and it was serious? Maybe it was merely developing slowly... No, no he should not think that. Flynn would be fine, end of story.
"Come here. I'll change your bandages and check on your wound while I'm here. Victoria told me you got hurt," the other man in the room stopped Yuri's train of thoughts.
The dark haired man sighed, grabbed his stick, and then walked the distance between the piano bench and the couch where he sat. The doctor slid his pant leg upward and removed the bandages before he checked on the wound. When he deemed it was fine, he wrapped new bandages around it.
"Well, I'll take my leave now," the doctor announced as he stood up. "Remember not to put weight on your leg and remind Mr. Chopin that he should take it easy for the next few days." Yuri nodded, which was enough for the other man who left with a last goodbye.
When he was gone, Yuri suddenly heard his stomach growl. Right, he needed to eat and so did Flynn. Only thing was, it would be hard to cook while not putting much weight on his leg. The long haired man sighed as he hung his head in defeat. There was nothing he could do about it. He was the only one able to cook, literally and figuratively speaking, and he did not have the possibility to get someone to bring food or something – he had no money and he did not know where to search. The only option left was for him to cook. So, without another thought, he grabbed his stick and stood up, walking to the kitchen to fix Flynn and him something to eat.
"Hey, Yuri! These are really good!"
Yuri, who was currently preparing dinner, raised his head as Flynn entered the kitchen. A week passed since the time the pianist fell sick, and now he was feeling much better. It was the same for Yuri whose stitches had been removed and who did not need to use his stick anymore.
The long haired man suddenly realised that Flynn held a notebook in his hand. The blonde's eyes were glued to the content and, when Yuri realised which notebook exactly the pianist was holding, the former's eyes widened and he both paled and flushed in anger at the same time. What was Flynn doing with his notebook? Did he have no sense of privacy?
"The hell, Flynn?" Yuri exclaimed in outrage, circling the counter where he was preparing his food to meet up with the musician in a few furious strides, before trying to tear the notebook from the other's hand. The latter skilfully pivoted on his feet and raised his hand, making Yuri miss and only grab air. The long haired man growled in frustration, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Flynn, give that back!" he warned dangerously. "Don't you have any shame? That's private you know! I thought you of all people would be able to respect that!"
Those words were enough to make the pianist feel guilty and his face fell. So did his hand and Yuri was finally able to grab the notebook forcefully before returning to the counter where he slammed the journal on the hard surface and resumed cutting the vegetables, a bit more violently this time. A pitiful look crossed the blonde's features as he took a couple of steps forward towards his friend.
"Yuri..." he called out softly, but the concerned one ignored him, his eyes never leaving the knife swinging up and down dangerously for the fingers that were too near.
"Yuri," Flynn tried again, louder this time. Knowing that the musician would not leave him alone until he looked up, the dark haired man snapped his head up in a glare.
"What?" he barked in annoyance.
Considering he was not paying attention to his knife anymore, a burning pain suddenly shot through his fingers and he violently hissed as he removed his now bloodied fingers in a quick motion. Yuri also dropped his utensil, which clanged on the counter. Before he could put his wounded finger in his mouth, however, Flynn covered the distance left between the two and grabbed his friend's hand, examining it.
"Flynn, let me go!" Yuri ordered in irritation.
He was really irked by the pianist and wanted him out of the kitchen. Despite that, the blonde ignored the other and did quite the opposite of letting him go. He was the one to put Yuri's finger into his own mouth, sucking gently on the blood and lapping the skin in careful movements. That was enough to send the dark haired man's brain overdrive as his face flared up in less than a second. He could not comprehend what was happening before his eyes. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could not help but think that the sight in front of him was quite sensual. Oh God, what kind of ideas was his mind creating again? This was ridiculous! Flynn was his friend. They only knew each other for a couple of weeks – well, in Yuri's case. He could not, for the love of God, think such... perverted thoughts about Flynn!
He was brought back to reality when the pianist finally let go of his finger to examine it a second time. It was still bleeding, but far less profusely.
"It looks worst than it is, but we should still get you bandaged," Flynn advised as he lightly tugged on Yuri's arm to make him come to the bathroom. The latter's brain still felt too fried for him to protest and he followed in silence, still pensive about the mental images he viewed moments ago. He was so confused; his feelings did not make any sense in the least.
Flynn searched for bandages while Yuri's finger was put under the running water in the sink. As he rummaged through the boxes inside the cupboard, Flynn used that time to apologize, just as he wanted to do earlier.
"Yuri, I'm sorry for reading in your notebook. I know it was bad. The thing is, you left it open in my study. I know it's not an excuse, but I didn't know it was your notebook when I saw it at first and, when I checked, I accidentally read a few words. I knew it was not mine at that moment, but before I knew it, I was sucked in by what was written. You're really good at writing stories, Yuri. I really wanted to read more."
As the pianist spoke, the long haired man averted his eyes, blushing and pouting at the same time. He felt pride swell inside his chest at the thought that Flynn liked what he wrote, but at the same time, knowing that someone else read his private stories made him embarrassed. This was only something he did to pass the time when he could not or did not want to play the piano.
"Did you consider using your writing for a career?" Flynn suddenly suggested.
This made Yuri's gaze snap up in the former's direction, wide as saucers, obviously believing it was a ridiculous idea. He was about to tell just that, but then another thought crossed his mind and made him rethink the idea. A career? Would this not be a good way to gain some income and help Flynn monetarily? Not that the pianist really needed it, but Yuri was already feeling very bad for staying in the musician's house without doing much but cooking for the both of them and do a bit of cleaning – though that was usually taken care of by the maid who came every week or so.
"I have contacts in the writing domain. A few of my friends are working there. I could always show them what you write. I'm sure they would find good material in them," the blonde continued to try convincing his friend. Yuri was now seriously considering it. What was the harm in trying? If he was so scared that his stories were bad, then the worst that could happen was that Flynn's friends would tell him that he was no good.
"Okay, I'll try," Yuri finally agreed and his cheeks reddened slightly at the other's beaming face.
Why was Flynn always either so handsome or too cute? His faces were always enough to make Yuri crack and let the pianist win. This was frustrating, yet the dark haired man did not really mind that much. Making Flynn happy was fun, after all.
"But I still find it embarrassing," the dark haired man mumbled, voicing out his reluctance. "People knowing I did that is kinda awkward."
Something suddenly lit up in the pianist's eyes, as though Yuri's words triggered an idea in his head he was too pleased with. Yuri did not understand what it was, however, and he found it suspicious.
"Then use a penname," Flynn suggested, the glint of satisfaction not leaving his eyes. Even though the long haired man now knew the blonde's idea, he still could not comprehend why the latter was having such a reaction over it. "No one will know who you are if you do. It's a method quite used by authors nowadays. How about it?"
It was a good idea, Yuri realised. It would be easier to put up with the embarrassment and he would be able to make an income and help Flynn out. All the more, he would be doing something he enjoyed for work. It was definitely not a bad deal.
"Yeah, I like that." Yuri grinned as the blonde released his hand after not only bandaging it, but also washing off the remaining blood stains on the skin. It landed on the dark haired man's hip as he began thinking up on a name. "I'd need something that has a nice ring to it, that feels catchy."
Flynn chuckled as he walked towards the exit. This made Yuri realise that he still needed to prepare dinner, and so he followed the musician out of the bathroom to the kitchen where his vegetables lay forgotten on the counter.
"It doesn't need to be flashy, you know," the pianist said as he sat at the table, watching Yuri prepare dinner. "I think that something modest would suit better."
The dark haired man pulled out a face at that. "No way! It would be boring if it wasn't anything amazing! It needs to attract attention if I want any of my books to be sold!" he protested, now moving on to prepare the meat that he took out from the ice box. Flynn chuckled.
"The title is what will attract attention, not the author's name. If yours is too flashy, it might outshine the title. You want people to buy your books for the story, not for your name, right?" A gentle smile spread on the pianist's lips as he saw the pout on Yuri's own. It was definitely a cute sight. "Besides, you said publishing anything made you embarrassed. If you get a flashy name, people might want to know even more who you are. I think you should stick with something modest."
Yuri heaved a sigh. He hated it when Flynn was right like that.
"All right, genius. Come up with something, then," Yuri growled in annoyance, though it was not really that deep.
"How about George Sand[3]?" The newly made writer pondered over it. He was not quite sure. He did not like, nor did he dislike it. He felt neutral over it. He would need more convincing.
"I'm not so sure..." he trailed off, now moving on to the hearth where he started the fire that would be used in heating the Dutch oven. He rolled his sleeves, not wanting to dirty his clothes too much and knowing that it would get rather hot in a few minutes.
"You know, George is as common a name as Yuri is in Russia. As for Sand, I thought of it as a spin-off of the French name Sandeau. This would give your surname a feel between English and French, and I thought it might meet your requirement of "catchy" while still being modest. So?" The convincing was rather good. Now that he knew the reasons behind the name, Yuri could not help but to start liking it a little. At least, it had a good flow.
"I'll think about it," was the long haired man's answer, although both men knew very well he would take it in the end. That reply was just for show. Flynn shook his head in discouragement as he chuckled. At least, he knew he had won in the end.
After dinner, Yuri and Flynn both installed themselves in the latter's study, one working in his notebook, noting recent events that occurred in the previous days, and coming up with ideas on what to write, while the other took care of gathering his things to prepare himself for the piano lessons he would give near the end of afternoon. A knock on the door interrupted their concentration and both looked up in the direction of the sound. Flynn was the one to exit the room to answer the door, but Yuri followed close behind, a bit curious as to who could be coming at this hour – the only regular visitors usually coming in the morning. When the pianist opened the door, he was greeted by a tall man, at least a head above Flynn, with mid light brown hair landing on each side of his cheeks in a light puffed up fashion. His big hazelnut eyes were twinkling in excitement as he took in the sight of the musician, a smile stretched on his lips.
"Ah, Franz! What a nice surprise! Come in, come in!" Flynn exclaimed, his lips now tugged in a smile of his own. He moved to the side to let his friend enter before closing the door behind him. "What brings you here today?"
Somehow, as Yuri observed them, the latter could not help but feel bitter at the newcomer. He did not know him yet, but he did not particularly enjoy this sort of bubbly personality. And yet, something told him that he would have not cared in the least, in usual occasions. Why was it that this man bothered him, then?
"Well, I've come back from my trip, Chopino. Don't tell me you have forgotten?"
Something snapped inside Yuri as he heard the nickname and one of his eye twitched in pure annoyance. Chopino? Who did this guy think he was, calling Flynn like that? It was too ridiculous of a name! The only nickname that fitted Flynn was... Flynn! At least, it had class; it did not feel idiotic and puerile! Yuri now knew what it was that made him despise that Franz guy: he was too close to Flynn! The long haired man believed that the way that man changed his friend's name was too disrespectful of the gentle and collected personality the pianist had.
"Ah, that's right! You went to England for a few concerts, right? How was it?" the blonde inquired with interest.
Contrary to Yuri, he did not seem to mind the nickname at all, as though he were completely fine with it. The raven haired male could not comprehend why; he would definitely be irked if someone played with his name like that.
"All in due time, my dear Chopinissimo," Franz waved off Flynn's question with his hand, and another chord snapped harder inside Yuri as he did his very best to stay calm and keep silent. If he lashed at the guy, Flynn would not forgive him. "I came mostly because I was a bit worried. I entrusted Victoria with a letter that she was supposed to give to you last week, but you never replied, and so I wondered if you had either not received it or were unwell."
At Franz's words, Flynn frowned in puzzlement, trying to remember any letter he might have received from the girl during the previous week. Yet, the more he thought, the less he could find.
The blonde sighed, resting his forehead in his hand. "That girl is too airheaded for her own good. I'm sorry, Franz, I didn't receive your letter," the pianist announced. He was about to ask what the content was, but Yuri beat him into talking. He needed to defend that poor girl since he knew she had done her job properly that time.
"Actually, that letter is surely under your music papers, on your desk in your study," he told and the other two both turned their heads in his direction. Flynn raised an eyebrow and Yuri explained himself. "You were in your composing frenzy, it's no wonder you never saw it. I placed it on your desk, but I'm sure you were too engrossed in your work, so you must not have seen it at first and then put papers above it, so you never realised it was there. I'm a bit surprised you didn't find it after a week, though, knowing how of a clean freak you usually are, Flynn."
The long haired man chuckled inwardly as the musician rolled his eyes at the teasing. But what pleased him the most was the look of confusion and displease in that Franz guy's eyes. Yuri added his own version of Frederic's nickname at the end of his sentence on purpose, wanting to entice the newcomer's attention on it. Yuri would show that guy that he was certainly not the only one close to Flynn and that this nickname was by far the best one of all.
The brunette turned his head towards the blonde. "I didn't know you had company, Frederic. Mind presenting me to your friend?" The pianist did not really notice it, but the tallest man's smile was a bit strained.
Yuri drew great satisfaction in it, especially when he did not use those ridiculous nicknames a third time. The long haired man could not help but think it was one to zero for him. The only nickname he would accept was Flynn and only Yuri could use it.
The blonde turned his eyes to his tallest friend, a bit of unease in his eyes and discreet gestures. He also seemed to be wondering how he should answer, which Yuri found weird. What was wrong?
"Ah, right. Franz, this is my friend George Sand. He came to Paris for a while, and so I offered him lodgement for his stay," Flynn lied.
Yuri's eyes widened in shock before he scrunched his nose and his features hardened in anger. What? What had Flynn dared say? Surely Yuri heard wrong. Flynn could not have possibly told the other man his penname, a name he wanted private, right? But the way the blonde averted his eyes from the dark haired man and the way he seemed to fidget was enough to tell Yuri otherwise. The latter, in his outrage, failed to notice the look Franz was throwing him, one that seemed to understand at least a bit of what was going on.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Sand. I am Franz Liszt, fellow pianist and friend to Chopino." He made sure to accentuate the last word, a small amused smile gracing his lips. "We've known each other for a while. We are, after all, musicians of the same calibre," the tallest man finished with smugness, as though Yuri could not possibly think that he was more important.
This was enough for the raven haired male to snap, though his poker face was carefully held in place as he plastered a cocky smile on his lips, one hand moving to his hip.
"Yeah, same here. Too bad I haven't heard of you, though," he shot back, snickering inwardly when the other's face fell a little. It was not for long, however, because the smugness returned in full force.
"Are you truly sure? My name has been travelling quite a lot throughout Europe, so I'm sure only uncultured people lacking taste could not have heard of me."
Oh, so he was playing this game? Yuri would play along just fine. He was certainly not about to back down now!
"Well, I might admit that I'm not the best in music, but it's at least not that big of a fault such as, say, having a swollen head that would make me an insensitive bastard or anything. I hope you don't happen to have this kind of people in your entourage, Franz, otherwise it would be so very bad for your reputation."
The mocking glance Yuri threw the other was enough to make his point cross and Liszt – Yuri was not about to be familiar in his thoughts and keep calling him by his first name – turned red, eyes narrowing dangerously. He was about to retort, but Flynn cut him to the chase.
"Y-George!" he exclaimed with reproach in his gaze. This reminded Yuri that he was mad at Flynn foremost and so he looked away in a bored fashion, shrugging.
"Who?" he asked nonchalantly, making the blonde go livid.
Ah, so he definitely did not want other people to know his real name. Yuri was starting to understand what that glint of satisfaction had been that morning when Flynn told him he should find a nickname. That must have been the latter's plan all along; for Yuri to use a different name around people. Why though, he had no idea. What he did know, however, was that it pissed him off.
Flynn strode towards Yuri and grabbed his arm before flashing an apologetic smile to his other friend. "I'm sorry, Franz, I need to speak with George here for a minute. We'll be back."
On those words, despite the raven haired male's protest, the blonde forcefully dragged the former across the hallway down to the study where Flynn pushed him inside and closed the door behind them. Yuri did not lose time in lashing at the musician at that point.
"What the hell, Flynn? What the hell is going on in that head of yours? I was sure we made it clear this morning when we agreed on that penname that it was supposed to be just that, a penname that no one would know about. Its purpose is to let me write without having to be known, without being labelled as the author of my books. And you just went and ruined that, stating clearly my penname. What's wrong with my name? Is it ugly or something? Is it not to your liking?"
Flynn balled his fists and looked straight at his friend, eyes unwavering.
"Please, Yuri, I have my reasons. You have to trust me," the blonde almost pleaded, gaze boring into the other's. It did not impress the later, however, far from it.
"Trust you? You're asking me to trust you? You're hiding everything from me and now you go and use publicly what I wanted private. And you want me to trust you? I'm sorry, you'll have to understand that I'm having a hard time doing it. So if you want me to trust you, please enlighten me," the dark haired man spat venomously, feeling on the verge of punching the pianist. This was getting more than frustrating.
Flynn sighed and his resolve melted to guilt. "I'm sorry, Yuri. It's just that I'm worried. You've been attacked last week and I don't know why. I also don't know if it will happen again. So I thought that the best solution was for you to be known as someone else. I know you'll want to get out of this place at some point to just go outside. I thought that if people knew you by another name, there would be fewer chances for you to be the victim of casualties. That's why I wanted you to use a penname; I want you to be known as George Sand."
The explanation was not enough to calm Yuri down. Quite the opposite, he felt even more irked by it. He glared murderously at his friend.
"Damn it, Flynn! I don't want to be known as someone else! I'm Yuri goddamn Lowell! No. One. Else! I don't care if someone's after me, I'll face them head on. Don't usurp my identity from me, the only thing I am certain of!" he almost yelled, hurt shining through his irises.
Because that was what he was the most: hurt. Using a different name felt like he would be stepping on the only memory he had left, something he wanted to cherish dearly. Flynn definitely crossed a line again and Yuri hated it. He was starting to have so many doubts about his friend, and the mere thought sent waves of pain in his chest, constricting his heart agonisingly.
The pianist closed his eyes, remorse written all over his features as he realised the impact of his friend's words.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, loud enough for the both to hear. "I was sure I was doing something good to protect you, but I did not realise it would hurt you so. I'm sorry, Yuri."
He sounded so sincere that Yuri found he could not stay mad at the pianist. Not that the raven haired male ever was able to stay furious at his friend for long. He sighed loudly and took a couple of steps forward, stopping next to Flynn without looking at him.
"It's... fine. Just promise me you won't do it again."
"Never. You have my word," Flynn replied with unwavering eyes and, when Yuri finally looked up at him, he knew it was the truth. The long haired man gave a small smile and pointed at the desk near the piano where all the music sheets were neatly stacked together.
"You must've grabbed the letter without knowing it and stacked it amongst your sheets. I'm sure it's still there, I know I put it on your desk," Yuri indicated and the blonde gave him a nod of thanks, relief slowly washing away the guilt in his eyes.
It was clear that he knew the raven haired male forgave him and he was glad for it. As he went to his desk, Yuri left the room and headed for the dining room where he was met with Liszt. Yuri grimaced inwardly, not wanting to have anything to do with him. Ah, but he needed to at least tell him his real name.
Before he could do so, however, the tall pianist beat him to the bush. "Ah, Mr. Sand, I was wondering, would it be all right for me to call you George? Mr. Sand feels too formal to say. You would not mind, would you?"
Yuri scrunched his nose in annoyance. Somehow, the fact that this guy was asking such questions felt off. There was something about it that definitely did not please Yuri.
"I'm not – " the latter started, but was cut yet again.
"Perfect! George it is, then! I'm glad you accepted." Liszt flashed the dark haired man a bright smile. As he looked at it, though, Yuri could not help but find it even more off than the pianist's words.
"Hey, listen when people are talking!" he exclaimed with outrage, glaring at the brunette. He could not wait for that man to get out of this place so that Yuri could have nothing to do with him anymore.
"Yes, George?"
That was when Yuri finally understood what was so off. Liszt knew. He knew that George was not the raven haired male's real name. He must have heard their conversation, or at least, snippets of it. Despite that, he would continue to call Yuri with his penname. He was doing it on purpose. It might be to either annoy the hell out of the long haired man or because he wanted to help with Flynn's plan. Either way, the tall pianist would be sticking to it.
Yuri had a really bad feeling about all this.
Flynn watched uncertainty fill his friend's onyx irises while he was waiting for a reply, standing in the kitchen's entryway.
"Are you really sure, Flynn? You'll be with your friends, meaning with other pianists, won't you? Wouldn't it be better if I stayed behind? I mean, won't they think I'm intruding?" Yuri finally spoke up, doubtful.
The blonde smiled as he shook his head. A few moments prior, he came to Yuri with a request: Flynn wanted the latter to accompany him to a salon. The musician usually went to these kind of soirees with friends once a week or so, but had neglected them in the recent weeks because of his composing frenzy and because he was occupied with other things. Since it had been a long time, Flynn was in the mood to go, but he wanted Yuri to accompany him. It would be more fun that way and it would give the dark haired man a chance to go out.
"It's all right; a salon's prior activity is not playing the piano. We mostly converse between each other in these soirees. You would certainly not be intruding. Please, Yuri? I would really like you to come! It would give you a chance to hear other pianists, other styles that you might like. You'll even hear Franz! He's a talented musician, after all," the blonde insisted, eyes almost pleading.
It would not take much more for Yuri to crack, especially with that expression thrown at him; if he refused, the raven haired male knew that he would receive a look of a kicked puppy and it would just send waves of guilt in his chest. Damn Flynn and his unconscious ways of convincing!
"Fine..." his tone was reluctant despite the fact he accepted.
Not only did the word salon not appeal him in the least, knowing it surely was a formal event, but when the blonde mentioned their prior visitor's name, Yuri winced inwardly. He really was not in the mood to see that man, especially not after what occurred that afternoon. When Yuri had understood Liszt's plan, he immediately turned away in anger and stomped back to his own room where he closed the door and worked in his notebook. Since then, the future novelist had not heard about their guest and the latter left without a goodbye, which Yuri was glad for. It did not change the fact that what happened harassed his mind all afternoon. How would things turn out? What was the tall pianist's purpose in calling him George when he knew it was not Yuri's name? This could not be anything good and Yuri almost feared to find out.
When Yuri left his bedroom for the kitchen to prepare supper, Liszt was already gone and Flynn did not look troubled whatsoever. It meant that he had no idea of what had occurred between the other pianist and Yuri. The latter preferred not saying anything, thinking that he would certainly not see the brunette so much, and thus there was no point in telling his host. But now that the latter mentioned his fellow pianist, the raven haired male was not so sure it was a good idea to leave Flynn in the dark. Maybe he would know something.
"Great!" the blonde exclaimed happily. "We usually meet at ten thirty, so be ready by then, all right?"
Maybe Yuri was worrying too much. Maybe it was merely a prank on Liszt's part. It was best if he kept everything to himself for now. He would see how things went tonight.
They were to meet with Flynn's friends in one of the private lounges of the renowned Camille Pleyel. Apparently, that man was a great friend to the blonde, and was also the one who supplied the pianist with his grand pianos. As they walked to their destination, Yuri listened with interest as Flynn praised the professional's work, saying that he never, in all his life, played on pianos with such quality in the sound and material. The musician's speech was interesting and the raven haired male hung on his every word, but what he found himself most fascinated about were the blonde's expressions. There was a fond smile gracing Flynn's lips and his deep sky blue irises were twinkling in delight. His dimples were accentuated just barely when his smile was most sincere. He would readjust his hat often as it slowly inched towards his eyes because of the movements of his head.
Yuri only realised he was staring when a pair of sapphires bore into his onyxes. At that moment, the raven haired male started and looked away quickly, face reddening in embarrassment. What was he doing, staring at Flynn like that? What was with him? And he should definitely not get started with the thoughts he just had towards the pianist. It was more than confusing and it irked the long haired man not to understand what was wrong with him.
They arrived at their destination, a grand manor that could contain at least four normal houses. Yuri winced inwardly in disgust. He just knew it would be full of nobles and that he would be bored to death. He hoped that, at the very least, Flynn would either stay with him most of the time or that he would play a lot. It would be the only distraction Yuri knew would make the evening bearable. He sighed as they went through the entryway and were immediately greeted by who the dark haired male guessed to be Camille Pleyel. The stout moustached man was richly clothed in black, his adjusted tailcoat making him look slimmer. He presented a white gloved hand to both Flynn and Yuri with a flashing smile. He was warm and cheerful, and Yuri wondered if it was real or a facade. Though from the look of genuine happiness on Flynn's face, the raven haired male believed that Pleyel was one of the rare nobles to not be some sort of snobbish creature. As they left the entryway to be guided to the lounge, both music connoisseurs spoke eagerly of the piano maker's new instruments, leaving Yuri alone with his thoughts. Well, this was bound to be a boring evening...
He realised that music was playing when they entered the new room, a piano melody to be exact. It was rather good – though not as good as Flynn – and Yuri wondered who could be playing. When he spotted the same man who came to his host's house that afternoon, the raven haired male's expression darkened. Flynn told him that Liszt was a talented pianist, but Yuri could not help but hope that it was not the case. How could someone so full of himself could play so well? It should not be permitted. The brunette suddenly spotted the newcomers and stopped his playing at that moment with a smirk playing on his lips. It was obviously thrown at Yuri because the latter realised that Flynn had not yet seen his fellow pianist. Great, this was just great. What else would the tall musician do to annoy the hell out of the dark haired man?
"Ah, George! It's good to see that you have come. I asked Chopino if you would be coming and I feared these salons would not be of your interests, with all the cultural conversations taking place that might not be of your calibre, but it seems I was wrong!"
A vein throbbed in Yuri's temple and he balled his fists, giving a forced smile. Damn it, he wanted to punch the man so bad, but Flynn expressively told him to behave before they left the house. He would just have to fight with comebacks, even though they were not as satisfying. He was not given the chance, however, when a woman joined Liszt, gazing curiously at the raven haired male.
The women's dirty blond hair was pulled up in a complicated hairstyle with pins and ornaments to decorate them. She looked young, not over twenty-five. Her brown eyes were gentle as she stared at Yuri with politeness. She gathered each side of her long and heavy crimson puffed dress in her hands and pulled it up slightly, bowing at the same time in respect, just as the protocol required. Her outfit was decent, Yuri realised, and not opened in so many places that men would only want to stare. It looked dashing on her; the golden frills and laces on the velvety texture accentuated the clothing's elegance. As he stared at her, the raven haired male deemed that she was not of the same type of nobles that irritated him to no end. She seemed to have a head on her shoulders and was courteous. He understood now why she was Flynn's friend: it was the type of person that suited the pianist's personality. Maybe Yuri was wrong in thinking this evening was bound to be bad because of the company they would be forced to stay with during the whole time.
"Good evening. You must be George Sand, Frederic's friend, am I right? Franz spoke about you to us. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sand. I am Delphina Potocka."
Once the words left her mouth, Yuri's respect shattered to be replaced by anger at the person at fault, namely Liszt. The latter was pretending to listen to some other conversations absent-mindedly, but when he spotted the writer's glare, he smirked playfully back at him. This was more than enough. Yuri grabbed the tall musician's arm before giving a quick apologetic smile towards the lady.
"I'm sorry, we need to speak for a bit, we'll be right back," he announced before dragging Liszt away unceremoniously, receiving protests from the other party that he ignored royally.
Yuri did not really know where he was going, but he stopped in an empty room far enough not to be bothered, but not too far that the hustling and bustling of the conversations would not be heard. There, he threw the brunette in front of him, almost making him lose his balance, and the long haired man crossed his arms on his chest.
"What is wrong with you?" he demanded with venom in his voice, glaring murderously at the man he was starting to hate deeply. The latter sneered, dusting his sleeve to make sure there were not any wrinkles where Yuri grabbed him.
"What is wrong with me? I would actually say what is wrong with you," he retorted haughtily. However, his mocking attitude had been replaced by a serious one that Yuri did not know him capable of.
Still, the question was enough to irk him. "This makes no sense! You're the one going off, telling others a name that is not mine! And don't act as if you don't know. I know you've heard everything this afternoon," the dark haired man almost yelled, but stopped himself in time. He did not want to attract attention and make a scene. He pulled Liszt away for that reason, after all.
The pianist scoffed, his eyes narrowing as though Yuri's latest words were completely stupid.
"Of course I've heard. That's why I'm doing this," he admitted, his expression telling that this should be an obvious fact. "And let me give you some piece of advice, friend: if I were you, I would stop being concerned with the little unimportant person I am and start thinking of the other ones around me," he warned dangerously.
Yuri growled lowly, sensing like punching the man would feel really good at the moment.
"What does this have anything to do with my name?" he inquired instead, controlling himself.
"Don't play dumb with me!" Liszt exclaimed. "You said so yourself, I've heard your conversation. I know you've been chased and attacked by some people. You told Frederic that you did not care if they were to come back because they heard your name around, but have you thought about Frederic at all?"
Yuri froze in place. All of his anger and irritation melted away to be replaced by cold dread. His eyes widened slowly as his mind processed what was just told. That afternoon, he had asked Flynn not to use his penname; that he would face any hardships head on and take full responsibility. But when he said that, he never considered that the blonde could be involved. If someone wanted to kill Yuri, they might hurt Flynn at the same time. They might barge into the pianist's house and go on a rampage. What if Flynn got wounded? Worst, what if he got killed? Yuri would never forgive himself. The mere thought made his heart stop and wrench in absolute pain! Damn it all, Liszt was right: he was selfish! Up until now, he was thinking of no one else but him. It took him that bastard to realise how wrong he had been.
Seeing as he was not about to answer, the brunette kept talking.
"I don't know what your true relation to Frederic is, but be careful. He is an important person in this society and he is my friend. If your identity threatens him or puts him in danger, I will not be afraid to use everything against you to protect him."
Without anything else, Liszt exited the room Yuri dragged him into, leaving a guilty raven haired male behind. The latter sighed deeply and put his hand on his hip as he pondered on what to do. He hated having to use another identity than his, but he had no choice now. He needed to protect Flynn, and if it was the best option, he would use it.
When he returned in the lounge, the brunette musician was back on the piano and Flynn was currently talking with Delphina. The woman seemed a little troubled about something, but when she glanced behind the blonde's shoulder and saw Yuri, she pointed at the latter with a relieved smile. Flynn also turned around when she spoke up.
"Ah, there he is! Mr. Sand, please join us!" she asked lightly with her crystal clear voice.
Yuri saw that his friend was about to protest, and though he was happy that the pianist listened to him and wanted his real identity to be known after all, he quickly stepped in.
"I'm sorry for leaving. By the way, Delph, you should definitely call me George. I hate it when I'm called Mr. Sand, feels way too formal," Yuri recommended, and smirked when he saw her blush furiously and saw her eyes go wide as saucers.
She was definitely not used to being nicknamed as Yuri did. She would have to, anyway, or she would not enjoy her time with the raven haired male.
"Yuri!" Flynn was glaring at the dark haired man, cheeks lightly reddened in shame and eyes wide in scandal. "You are speaking to a lady of high class. Show some respect!"
Yuri would have been amused by the blonde's reaction if it was not for the fact that he just ruined his efforts by revealing his real name. He sighed inwardly in a discouraged way, annoyed that he would have to repair that error.
"Hey, what gives, calling me by my penname like that!" Yuri exclaimed and he saw the pianist's outrage melt into confusion. "I didn't think talking about using a penname would make you mix it up with my name. I'm George, remember?"
As he spoke, the writer made sure to sound amused, as though he were teasing Flynn about it. "Besides, I've been thinking about what you said this afternoon, and I think I'm going to use George Sand in the end."
Again, the words were coded, having two different meanings for Delphina and Flynn. The woman would think Yuri meant he would use his real name for his books, while the musician should understand that Yuri actually meant he would use this penname when in public. As the long haired male hoped, realisation hit the pianist's features and he frowned lightly. He obviously did not understand what occurred the change of mind and, from the way he opened his mouth, Yuri knew he was dying to know why. But this was not the place for that and he was grateful when Delphina spoke before Flynn could, preventing the writer from finding an excuse to cut the pianist.
"Oh, so you are a writer?" she asked, deeply interested in the fact.
She seemed to have recovered from the shock of being nicknamed so disrespectfully by Yuri and was not bothered much by it. On the contrary, she was being as gentle and courteous as before. "
What kind of books do you write? Do you have any releases yet? I don't remember seeing your name before, nor your penname, however." She added when Yuri nodded at her.
"No, I haven't released any books yet. I'm currently writing a suspense novel, though I'd rather not go into any details until it's finished," he replied as he watched Flynn be accosted by a man approximately in his late thirties.
Realising that the blonde would once more be occupied with other people and seeing that Delphina was interested in speaking with him, he offered her to go sit down on the sofa. She quickly agreed and followed him as they continued their conversation to the sound of the piano filling their ears.
The evening was growing late and the moon was already very high and bright from the window Yuri was staring. They must have been in this place for at least an hour and a half now, and he was starting to get bored. Flynn was still speaking with his friends, and Delphina was taken away by a man that had been presented to him as Robert Schumann – even though the latter seemed well intent on telling people that he'd rather be called Raven Schwann[4], as though it sounded better. The three of them had spoken together for a while, and Yuri learned that the other man was a pianist as well – no surprise there, really, since most of the people apparently were in this place. A glass of wine in hand, the newcomer spoke of himself a bit too highly and it was obvious he was trying to flirt with the lady next to him. The long haired man wondered if it was the alcohol or if it was that man's true nature. When Yuri turned his eyes to Delphina in a silent question, she merely smiled, and the inquirer understood that she was used to it. It still did not answer his question, but maybe it was best left unanswered.
At some point, Yuri got tired of the old man's flirtatious ways and he stepped away to the window where a bit of fresh air seeped through the glass. It felt delicious on his hot skin, as there were definitely too much people in the room, making the temperature rise drastically. As he watched the moon, the writer listened to Liszt who was still playing. Of course, through the time they were here, the brunette left the instrument for a while to speak with friends – namely Flynn, and Yuri gritted his teeth at that – but in the end, he came back to play, as though the piano was exclusively his.
Not only that, the long haired man realised that the pianist was actually playing Flynn's music. It bothered the writer, who believed that no one but the blonde could play his own pieces, and he was even more annoyed when he realised that Liszt was actually modifying everything, adding so many trills and tremolos that were not in the actual music. The melodies usually so poetic and romantic, full of the depth that sent shivers down anyone's body as it transported away into a world of peace and delight, now sounded puerile to Yuri's ears. Every time a wrong note was added, one that the long haired man was not used to, he imagined the melody going crazy.
Not that the music was bad in itself – most of the people in the room enjoyed it – it was just not the same he was used to and he hated it. He wanted Flynn to play his own music and no one else.
Suddenly, his ears picked up the first few notes of his favourite melody and, already, the brunette was changing it to his heart's content. That was the last straw. Yuri's head snapped away from the window and he was about to stride next to the profaning musician, but saw an irked Flynn already meeting with the former. Intrigued, the writer stayed in place, wondering how things would go.
"Please, my friend, if you are doing me the honour of playing my music, play what is written or play something else. There is only Chopin who has the right of changing Chopin[5]," he requested, the annoyance clear in his voice.
Everyone stopped their conversation to look at the exchange, intrigued as to how things would go. Yuri wondered if it was a rare sight between the two pianists or if it was a recurring event.
"Then play yourself!" Liszt exclaimed as he stood up, vexed by the other's words.
"With pleasure," Flynn answered as he sat down on the bench offered to him.
Yuri could not help the smirk stretching his lips. The blonde definitely put the brunette back in his place and the long haired man felt pride at that. That haughty bastard deserved it, especially for playing in such an unrefined way that was not characteristic of Flynn. Liszt, now pouting because he was snubbed, pulled back to sit in one of the armchairs next to the piano as Flynn readied himself to play.
At that moment, a geometer moth that was flying by in the house for a while now, escaping the cold of the night outside, made its way to the lamp near the instrument in search of more warmth. As it settled inside, its wings suddenly blazed and the light was gone, leaving the piano in slight obscurity. Pleyel turned to his wife, asking her to go get fire in order to light the lamp, but Flynn vehemently refused.
"No!" he interjected quickly. "Au contraire, blow out all the candles. The moonlight will suffice."
Murmurs of surprise and consternation spread amongst the crowd, but everyone did as they were told. Soon, the room was plunged in complete darkness except for the soft silver gleam coming from the full moon in the night sky. Fingers gently lowered the keys in a low sound, beginning a melody so soft as to not break the comfortable silence of the night. Instead, it was accompanying it in a magical euphony that wrapped each and every heart in the room and filled them with warmth.
Yuri was watching those slim fingers run lightly across the keys in familiarity and shivers were running down his spine. Flynn was currently playing Farewell, the last song Liszt dared modify so shamelessly – but was thankfully stopped before he could do much damage – and a crazy thought crossed the raven haired male's mind. It was as if the blonde pianist knew how important that very music was to Yuri and was repairing the damage Liszt did by playing it with the upmost of his talent. He was lowering each note with care and precision, depicting the beauty of the melody, sending a message to the long haired man. The latter closed his eyes and let himself be lulled by the music, wanting to believe so badly this thought that made no sense. It was a feeling he cherished.
Flynn played and played, succeeding song after song, not ever making a single mistake in his notes or a misstep with his fingers. He was playing with only the moon as a source of light, light that was not even gracing its presence on the instrument. Not a murmur was heard amongst the crowd, everyone too entranced in the show to say anything at all, barely daring to even breathe.
After an hour of playing nonstop, Flynn's hands finally came to a final halt. He moved his arms in a few gracious movements to enhance the last note, then removed his fingers and placed them onto his lap. The aftermath was instantaneous. Applauses erupted in the entire room, tears of awe were shed, and exclamations of admiration rang out loudly. Yuri opened his eyes for the first time since he closed them, a small smile gracing his lips. This was the greatest show he ever experienced. The sheer beauty of it had entranced him to the most wonderful world in his mind. Only the pianist was able to put him in such a calming and comfortable state. Yuri wanted to go to Flynn to congratulate him, wanted to pull the latter against him and kiss him deeply!
Wait, wha...?
As his eyes widened, incredulous, his gaze travelled to the blonde and saw Liszt standing up and doing almost exactly what Yuri had just wished for: he pulled Flynn into a tight hug. The long haired man's disbelief at his needs was quickly forgotten and replaced by pure rage at the tall pianist. How did he dare hug his Flynn? Yuri could not describe how furious he felt, how deeply he wanted to shove that man aside and kick him in the ass so badly that he would never dare approach the blonde again. Why was Liszt being so familiar with Flynn? They were just friends – and even that was already too much for Yuri.
"Ah, my friend, you were right! The works of a genius such as yourself are sacred! It is profanation to touch them. You are a real poet and I am but a mere street acrobat," the brunette exclaimed, the tone in his voice betraying how moved he was by the performance.
A gentle smile stretched Flynn's lips, one directed at his fellow pianist and one that sent thousands of needles in the novelist's heart, making it wrench painfully. Why was the blonde acting as though he did not mind the spur of affection? He should feel uncomfortable, in the least; he should try to push the other man away. But no, instead, he merely replied to the other musician.
"Stop with that. We each have our genres, that is all. You know very well that no one in the world can play Weber or Beethoven as you do," he reminded, finally pulling away from the brunette's embrace, and motioning for the latter to sit on the piano bench. "Speaking of which, why don't you play Beethoven's adagio in C sharp minor for me? But do it seriously, as you are able to when you want to."
Liszt quickly agreed as Pleyel and his wife were beginning to light the candles in order to illuminate the room once more. Everyone around was still thrilled about the performance that had just occurred and were speaking relentlessly about it. The only quiet person was Yuri, who was now staring out the window with a sullen expression. He hated this evening, hated those nobles' voices ringing too loudly, hated the piano, hated Liszt. He hated, hated, hated Liszt! Damn that man, that bastard! Yuri wanted to make him pay, wanted to show him that he had no right to embrace Flynn as he just did.
"Yuri?"
When the long haired man raised his eyes, he saw a pair of sapphires gazing worryingly at him. Usually, it would have been a sight enough to calm him, but not tonight. He was mad and wanted nothing more than to be out of here.
"Are you alright, Yuri?" Flynn's voice was soft, and thankfully not loud enough for anyone else to hear, as he lowered his head to take a better look at the writer.
The latter did not want his friend seeing him in such a state, did not want to be asked so many questions, and so he shot straight up, averting his eyes.
"I'm tired of this place. I'm outta here."
He never meant to sound so harsh and the devastated look, even though it lasted only a second, was enough to send much more pain in Yuri's chest than previously. Not wanting to deal with that either, he began to stride away, but a hand grabbed his wrist and lightly tugged on it to stop him. When Yuri glanced back, he saw pleading eyes that made him flinch. Why was he being so mean to Flynn? It was not like the pianist had done anything wrong!
"Please, Yuri, just until Franz is finished playing." The name was enough to rekindle his anger and hatred, and the raven haired male's features darkened.
"I'll be outside, then."
He did not say anything, did not look back a second time, merely pulled his wrist from the other's grasp and stepped away to the front door where he quickly slid outside. The fresh air felt good on his skin as he attempted to calm himself, inhaling deeply. What had gotten into him? Why had he felt such loath towards Liszt? Why was he angry at Flynn even though he did nothing wrong in the least? This made no sense at all and Yuri could not comprehend himself anymore. He regretted the way he acted towards the blonde and wanted to apologize, but somehow, he knew his pride and that little bit of flaring hatred that he did not understand would prevent him from doing so. He was such an idiot, he realised as he rubbed his face with his hands.
Fifteen minutes later, Flynn joined him outside. This surprised Yuri as he was sure he would have to wait far longer than that. After all, he needed to say goodbye not only to his host, but also to most of the people present. Yuri also believed that Liszt would do everything to stop the blonde from leaving. And yet here he was, standing next to the raven haired male, the mix of gentleness and worry on his beautiful pinkish lips. God, Yuri was doing it again! Could this stop already? Why was his mind so intent on sending such images to him?
"I'm ready. Let's go," Flynn announced and his friend pushed himself from the wall to follow in the former's steps.
Yuri had enough time to calm since he arrived outside, but despite that, the blonde never asked any questions about what was plaguing the writer's mind. It seemed he understood Yuri wanted privacy on the matter, and the latter mentally thanked him for it.
As they walked to the pianist's house, Flynn turned his eyes to his friend. "Did you like my performance?" he inquired lightly.
Yuri immediately wanted to answer that yes, he loved every second of it, that it was the best thing he ever heard in all his life – even if he could not remember most of it. But images of him kissing Flynn and of Liszt hugging the blonde both shamed and angered him once more, stopping his enthusiasm. He averted his eyes and clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to regain his calm.
"Yeah, it was good," he merely replied, a bit colder than he would have liked to. He did not see the look of hurt crossing the other's blue irises and the latter looked away as well.
"I see," he mumbled in a murmur. "I'm glad then."
Despite the words, Yuri thought that they were not sincere in the least. Surprised, he watched the pianist once more and saw the latter hiding his expression with his hair. This sent dread inside the long haired man's stomach. Why could he not shake the feeling he made some grave mistake?
"I won't force you to come to these salons anymore," Flynn suddenly continued, voice too neutral for Yuri to discern anything. "Since you seem to have hated it, I wouldn't want to bore you with it anymore. I'm sorry it was a pain to come."
Shocked, Yuri wanted to protest vehemently, that he enjoyed most of the evening, and that the pianist understood wrong. However, a smile given to him threw him off before he could utter a single word; it was filled with bitter understanding, guilt and sadness. What happened? Why did it come to this?
Silence was the only thing exchanged between the two for the rest of the way and both men retired to their respective rooms, unease grabbing their hearts.
A few months went by and it felt as though they were gone in the blink of an eye. The days following that first salon Yuri attended were somewhat awkward between the two as Flynn spent them in his study, not wanting to be disturbed. He seemed to be avoiding the dark haired man. Yet, never did the latter really know if it was that or his imagination. After all, the pianist really could just have been busy.
After that, the routine that was installed between the two since a few weeks ago was back, except for the fact that Yuri now wrote more. Flynn managed to talk and convince the friend he spoke of to take a look at the writer's works, and it was enough to start the raven haired male's career. The latter was glad for it because he believed he would finally be able to pull his own weight in that house by paying back the blonde. However, he soon found out that the musician wanted nothing with his money. It ended up in a fight between the two, and even came to fists at some point. Both were a bit bashed up, Yuri with a bleeding nose and Flynn with a dark bruise on his cheek, and they only stopped when the blonde was the one to win when he knocked the other on the floor – though Yuri would grumble and say that he only agreed to lose because Flynn was starting to cough badly and the writer was scared he was showing signs of his recurring sickness. All in all, the raven haired male was forbidden to give any money to the pianist who was more than happy to let the former stay in his house, free of charge. They were friends, after all, and the musician reminded that he enjoyed the company instead of the eerie silence of his usual life before Yuri arrived.
That was how the routine was reinstalled with Yuri merely cooking as a way to thank the blonde – and, quite simply, as a way to survive. In those few months, Flynn fell sick once again and it lasted a bit longer than the previous time, slightly worrying the raven haired male. The doctor had told him that it would go away eventually, but the writer could definitely not shake the feeling that the former was completely wrong. Every time it would cross Yuri's mind, however, he would admonish himself. He had no right to doubt like that. Flynn was strong, he would definitely pull through.
In that time he was ill, the pianist was seized with one of his composing frenzy. Yuri had to do everything to keep Flynn in bed – he almost knocked him on the head hard at some point. It was hard for the musician who absolutely needed to write down the notes invading his mind, refusing to let go of him until he scribbled them on paper and gave them life on the piano. He tried everything: scream at Yuri, try to sneak into his study, beg with that beaten puppy face... That last one made it hard not to crack, but the long haired man pulled it through and refused each time. There was no way he was endangering the blonde's health. He only allowed the latter to go to his piano once he was feeling better, to which the pianist quickly disappeared to, never to come out – or almost – until a week later. The writer used that time to finish his first novel that he sent to his editor. With a few things to correct, it was accepted with praise and, a month later, it was released in bookstores. It was a hit in France, thankfully, and Yuri was definitely encouraged to write more.
Despite Flynn's words, Yuri insisted to accompany him to other salons. He enjoyed listening to the pianist play around other people; it was a different atmosphere from the one when they were alone. Besides, he wanted to speak with Delphina again. She was a friend of Flynn that Yuri definitely relished the company. She spoke of various things with him and, obviously, when his novel was published, she praised his work vehemently, along with other people. It boasted Yuri's confidence – though only Flynn and Delphina's opinion mattered – and it reassured him that his real name would definitely not be heard around. The name George Sand was on everyone's lips. The secret was safe and so would be Flynn.
Two months following that event, a royal emissary came knocking on the door. Apparently, the king wanted the pianist to come play at the palace for his daughter's birthday that would take place the next month. Since Flynn was used to performing at the castle – and because it certainly was not a request he could refuse – he told the emissary that he would be there without fault. He also requested that he bring company. The messenger was pretty sure that everything would be alright, but still told he would come back with a confirmation.
Yuri was surprised when he heard he would be brought to the palace. He was certainly not of royal blood – at least not in France – and he was not that much of a well-known man yet. He doubted he could even be welcomed, but the blonde assured him that it would be okay if they were going together. Besides, Flynn would not only be playing in front of the royal family. There would be many nobles: dukes, barons, knights... Someone was bound to know of the writer's work. It would only help spread the word for his books. Unsure, the raven haired male accepted anyway. He enjoyed listening to Flynn on any occasion, after all. Besides, he was curious to see the palace, even if it would be full of haughty nobles. As long as the pianist was not too far from him, Yuri would be alright.
That was how they ended up shopping for clothes. Apparently, the long haired man did not have clothes elegant enough for the court. Of course, he could have borrowed some of Flynn's clothes, but the latter was dead set on thinking it was not the writer's style and that it would be nice if he could have an outfit of his own for such special occasions. Yuri groaned as he was dragged to a tailor, believing that this kind of thinking was definitely too womanish for the pianist. When he voiced it out loud, he received a rather hard smack on the head, making him yelp loudly. Irked, it was enough to put a smirk on his lips and he tried to pay him back, wanting nothing more than to distract the blonde with a playful banter. Unfortunately, Flynn threatened him that he would haul him on his shoulder all the way to the shop if he did not behave. Knowing very well that the musician was capable of doing it and not wanting to be embarrassed in front of so many people in the streets, Yuri was reduced to grumbling once more, following reluctantly.
When they arrived to the store, the tailor immediately got to work after the pianist's few instructions on what he wanted for the raven haired male. The first time he saw her, Yuri wondered why Flynn was coming in this place and why it was still in business: the long dark ponytailed lady was dressed in an outfit that revealed way too much. It was easy to take a glance at her exposed chest and her white and blue dress barely covered her knees. Even her long sleeves revealed her shoulders and wrist[6]. Of course, it was easy to understand that her customers might be at least ninety-five percent male, but she would be considered outrageous by most of the society, so it was a wonder her store had not been shut down. When Yuri asked the question in a whisper, Flynn explained that she was the best tailor in Paris, whether anyone liked it or not. He too had been uncomfortable the first times he was brought in this place by a friend, but when he saw with his own eyes the calibre of her work, he did not doubt her talent anymore.
Although the writer was not really complaining or anything. He actually liked the girl: she was cocky, teasing and definitely not scared of stating her mind. Apparently, she was named Judith and was in this business for five years already. When Yuri learned that she was one year younger than Flynn, his eyes widened. It meant she started around seventeen years old. The long haired man was definitely impressed.
As she took his measures, he observed her hair: there seemed to be a bluish hue in her ebony strands[7], and Yuri wondered if it was natural. Her entire being screamed unconventional, after all, but it did not felt like she had done anything to her hair. Ah well, not that he really cared anyway.
The measures were taken quickly and Judith disappeared behind her counter, pulling out a pad of paper where she scribbled a few notes. She asked the long haired male if he had any preferences with his clothes. The latter merely shrugged as he stated that, as long as they were dark – he would hate to wear light pastel colours –, he did not care and would accept anything she would create. She giggled, stating that she was glad he said so because she already had a few ideas in her head that she died to create. She told both men to come back in a week for adjustments before she shooed them away, already wanting to start working.
Now, they were that week later and Yuri was currently putting on the clothes Judith assaulted him with the second he stepped inside the shop. At first glance, the raven haired male believed they were not bad and that the tailor did a rather good job with the designing. Now the only thing left to discover was if they suited him. Not that he doubted the ponytailed girl, but it was still a trying on session. As he pulled down the sleeveless grey shirt, he heard the other two's anticipating murmurs and he rolled his eyes. Judith suddenly yelled at him to go faster, to which he replied that he was doing his best, considering he was putting on clothes such as these for the first time.
When he did finally manage to put the full outfit, he stepped out of the back store and saw eyes widen. Yuri was now wearing a long grey shirt under a puffed long-sleeved black jacket that stopped at his waist. It had a long collar that seemed Chinese inspired and the hemline was of a light golden-yellow hue. The jacket could not be buttoned, but was kept closed by a v-shaped part with silver designs. His shoulders and back were clad with a semblance of a short crimson cloak hemmed with gold and sewed to the jacket in a V shape. The two observers were not able to take their eyes off Yuri and the latter could even swear that the tailor's were twinkling in pure delight. She even squealed as she hurried to the writer's side, making sure to check every spot for any imperfection that she would obviously not find. Amused at her reaction, Yuri's hand moved to his hip as he observed her, missing the blush creeping onto Flynn's cheeks.
"Just as I thought, this is the perfect outfit," she declared proudly.
A movement in Flynn's direction made her glance his way and, contrary to Yuri, she saw the blush that he tried his best to hide. A devilish smirk appeared faintly on her lips, but it soon disappeared under nonchalance. Too quickly for the long haired man to react, she stepped behind him and grabbed his hair in one hand before coming it with her fingers, pulling it up as she did. The writer started violently and he fidgeted, unsure of what was going on. He did not like anyone touching his hair and, even though Judith was his friend, she was not really an exception.
"What are you doing?" he asked half surprised, half dangerously. She quickly hushed him, ignoring the tone as though it did not impress her in the least, and continued until it was high enough. She then pressed her chin on Yuri's shoulder, looking in the pianist's direction.
"What do you think, Flynn?" Yuri grumbled inwardly.
The first time they came into the shop, the tailor heard the long haired man call the pianist by his middle name. It immediately perked her attention and her eyes bore into both men, suddenly understanding something that they did not. She inquired about it, a sly smile painted on her lips as her gaze travelled back and forth on both men. Somehow, even though the writer told her the same reason he told Flynn why he was using that name, he felt as though she did not truly believe him and saw something else behind it, something... scary. Yuri did not know what it was and he had no intentions of ever trying to find out.
Judith then proceeded to ask if she could also call the blonde that way, because she liked it a lot more than Frederic or Mr. Chopin. The concerned one had been about to say that he did not really care, but the writer had quickly cut him to the chase by glaring at the tailor and stating a firm 'no!' This had surprised Flynn greatly, who stared at the dark haired man as though he had grown two heads. The latter blushed violently upon realising just what he did, and the fact that Judith's sly smile only increased did not help in the least. She did that on purpose, searching for his reaction to this for whatever reason. What was in her mind?
Yuri had muttered a vague reason as to why he did not want to, stating that if too much people started calling him that, it might harm his reputation, but it was clear Judith did not believe him. She knew the real reason. What was the real reason, exactly? The long haired man did not even know himself. He did not even understand why he protested so vehemently when she had every right to call Flynn however she wanted. His brain was getting more and more frustrating.
And he still could not shake that annoyance every time she called the musician by his nickname. Even now, as she stared at the blonde, waiting for his answer. And even though her voice and smile were full of meaning as she questioned the blonde, never did the latter realised it as his eyes were solely on Yuri, face a shade of dark red. This time, the novelist did see it and a smirk played on his mouth. This could definitely be worth it.
"What's wrong, Flynn? Why're you so silent? Doesn't it fit me?" Yuri complained with a pout and laughed inwardly as the pianist shook his head fervently.
"N-no! T-that's not what I meant! It really fits you, Yuri. Y-you look really handsome..."
Flynn looked away in embarrassment, a hand scratching the back of his head nervously, and he missed the expression changing on the raven haired male. The blonde's words had the opposite effect of what Yuri was looking for. Instead of being amused, his own face flushed violently and butterflies suddenly fluttered inside his stomach. What was this? Why were Flynn's words getting such a reaction out of him? Why did he feel so happy and embarrassed at the same time? Annoyed, Yuri smacked the tailor's hand keeping his hair on place away, taking a couple of steps backwards to face her. He was averting his eyes, not wanting to see her knowing expression.
"Are we done, now?" he exclaimed with irritation. "You saw what you need to modify, right? I can go change now." She sulked at the sudden attitude, crossing her arms on her chest.
"You're no fun," she complained, but the glare she received, even though it entertained her, was enough to dissuade her of adding anything else. And so she sighed and nodded, which was enough for the writer to quickly disappear in the back store where he could change. Judith turned to Flynn who was staring at the spot occupied by Yuri a few seconds ago with unease and incomprehension.
"Did I say something wrong?" he wondered aloud, searching for any clues in the tailor's attitude. The latter heaved a long sigh, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head in discouragement.
"You are both idiots."
Small legs ran quickly in the streets amongst the crowd, their little owner barely paying attention to where he was going and who he was bumping into, not caring if he almost made them trip. He ignored the outraged cries erupting towards him, his mind completely elsewhere as he kept his course. To where, he had no idea. He just needed to get away from his home. As far away as possible, at least for some time – or until he was found, naturally.
He could not believe it. It was summer, they were here in this foreign country on vacation, and yet his father still wanted him to have private classes every day with a boring teacher that could not, for the love of him, amuse a child and be interesting. No, instead, the little boy had to sit at a table, listen to some soporific notions about history, geography, mathematics, and language from morning to afternoon. When it was finally done, when he was sure that he would finally be free, he was given a huge pile of homework to do and books to study for the next classes. It drove him nuts! The sun was bright and shining outside, begging him to go play outside where he could run around, play with the dogs in the courtyard and laugh to his heart's content. Yet it was all forbidden to him. Today, however, was enough. There was no way he was going to endure such torture all summer. Which was why he escaped from the summer villa his family was staying at, making sure he would have some fun.
This was the second summer the boy and his parents came to Poland. Apparently, they would continue to come here every summer, and so his father had proceeded in showing him around during the previous heat season. By then, the child had known the streets by heart and he was thankful for it now that he was roaming around and escaping the living hell waiting for him at the house. It would prevent him from getting lost.
He took a turn in a street less travelled by passers-by and saw a lone mansion at the end of the path. He also heard the faint sound of what resembled music. This perked the boy's attention and he wondered for a brief second if he was hearing right or if it was his imagination. He could not really tell what instrument it was, so he moved forward, curious about the nature of the sound. It became clearer the more he walked towards it and, soon, he was able to tell that it was a piano. A light yet complicated melody reached his ears and he wondered who could be playing so expertly. From what he heard from the very few concerts his father deigned bring him to, this sounded like Mozart: it was frivolous and carefree. The pianist was playing it with such perkiness that the boy believed that person must have an easy and problem free life.
He knew that entering the yard was forbidden and that he could get kicked out rather harshly if he was to be discovered. However, he did not care the least bit. He was dying to know who was playing, the melody attracting him as though it was vital and his feet dragging him inside the property of their own accord. He made sure to be careful as he walked in front of windows. He peaked inside for a quick second, making sure that the person he was looking for was not inside, then continued his path while lowering himself.
He finally managed to locate the sound when he spotted an opened window on the second floor above him, on the side of the mansion. It was definitely the area where the music came louder from. The child pouted, wondering if he would be able to satiate his curiosity in the end, and as he searched with his eyes, saw that there was a tree near the window that he would easily be able to climb to peek inside. Grinning widely, he ran to his climbing point before moving up like a monkey. When he finally reached the strong branch that led to the opened window, the child looked inside the mansion and finally saw what he was aiming for: a boy, approximately his age, was currently playing on the piano with a concentrated expression on his features.
The intruder could not see very well, and so he could not tell what colour were the other's eyes. What he could discern, however, was that cute scrunched nose and light furrow of brows as he seemed to almost make a mistake in his playing – or maybe he did make one, but the child sitting on the tree was definitely not professional enough to notice it.
Now that his curiosity was satisfied, he should have jumped down from the tree and go away before he was spotted by anyone else. However, he was entranced by the melody and he died to hear more of the other boy's playing. He lied down on his stomach onto the branch, both hands cupping his chin to keep his head up so he could watch the pianist all the while. The latter played for another five minutes before his hands finally left the keys to rest on his lap. That was when the small intruder made himself known. He was getting a bit tired of doing nothing – he was known for being restless, after all – and he wanted someone to play with. Maybe the little musician would want to be his friend!
"That was really good!" he exclaimed happily.
He did not expect the reaction answering his words. The other boy screamed in panic as he spun his head towards the sound. This startled the child on the tree as well and he too screamed and jumped lightly. This resulted in him losing his balance and he fell on the side. If it was not for his reflexes, he would have fallen on the ground and probably broke his arm or leg. Instead, he hands grabbed the branch and he was now swinging, feet dangling in the emptiness. His heart was hammering in his chest as he tried to calm down, the adrenaline of almost having hurt himself not helping much. But when he did manage to regain a normal breathing state, he hoisted himself up again and glared at the pianist who was looking at him from the windowsill with wide eyes.
"Hey, no need to scare me like that! I was complimenting you!"
The young musician stared at him as though he were some creature from an unknown world.
"I should be the one saying that. You're the one who's not supposed to be here and who scared me. Who are you anyway?"
The intruder grinned both happily and mockingly. He did not seem to care in the least that he was the one in the wrong. He had gotten to talk with the person making him curious. It was all that mattered.
"I'm –– !" he gave his name with haste.
The other child did not seem fazed anymore that a stranger had climbed the tree next to the window of his mansion and was talking to him as though nothing was wrong and as though they knew each other since forever. Quite on the contrary, he also seemed glad to have a boy his age to talk to.
"And I'm –– ," he answered with a smile of his own. A bright smile that took the boy outside's breath away. He definitely liked that smile and he would absolutely want to see it more.
If they could become friends, it would be the best thing in all this summer that would happen to him.
"You know, –– is waaay too long and calling you –– doesn't have any punch at all. I'll call you –– instead!" A surprised expression, eyes blinking slowly, then an amused smile crept back on the pianist's lips.
"It's fine by me!"
Yuri gasped loudly as his eyes shot open and the upper half of his body bolted up. He inhaled shaky breaths while his trembling hand grasped his shirt just above his hammering heart. He was shaking all over, gulping in uneasiness, unaware of his surroundings. What happened? What was that dream? Was it... was it a memory? It felt so real; he could still hear words ringing in his mind and see a deep gaze plunged in his. What was those eyes' colour? How about the boy's hair? He could not remember.
The more he tried to grasp dips and bits of this vision, the more it escaped him, as though he tried to catch water with his hands. It unnerved and outraged him to no end. If it really was a memory, if it really happened to him, then why was his brain stubbornly keeping it away? He needed to remember, wanted to know everything about himself! And so he thought, thought harder, searched for his thoughts in his dream, searched for the words that were uttered, and especially searched for that other boy's appearance. But nothingness answered him. Vague shapes and hazy speeches were the only thing left. The long haired man hit the mattress violently, crying out in fury. He could not believe this! He had been so close to remembering something, but his stupid brain decided against it. Why? This was incredibly unfair!
He turned to his night table and grabbed the notebook and quill lying on the surface in a frustrated gesture. It was too soon to be admitting defeat. He would do everything to regain his memories, and if it meant writing down incoherent snippets, then he would do so. It would be better than nothing. And who knew, it might help him link to other aspects of his dream. He feverishly opened the notebook and dipped his quill into the ink not too far away before writing down all that he remembered. It was not much, barely anything to even start covering the content of his night vision, but it encouraged him. Maybe he would have another memory visiting his sleep sometime soon. If it happened, Yuri would definitely be ready. He would write down everything the minute he woke up.
As he wrote, his unawareness of his surroundings began to fade and he picked up the sound of the piano. Now that he thought about it, he had been hearing it for a while – he was just not focused on it, and with reasons. Maybe it even was what woke him up. As he gazed outside, the writer noticed that it was still early and he frowned lightly. Was Flynn already in another composing frenzy? Yuri turned his full attention on the music and noticed that there was something wrong with it. It was sloppy and full of mistakes, more so than if the pianist was composing and trying out various melodies and techniques. Suddenly worried, the dark haired male placed his quill and notebook back on the night table and slipped his feet out of the bed. That's when a loud bang rang out and various notes resonated in a cacophony.
"Flynn!" Yuri whispered in anxiety and he was up in less than a second, already bolting out of his room to the study where the musician was.
He made his way to the study and, when he entered, his heart missed a beat. The blonde's body, currently splayed on the keys and drawing out their sound in dissonance, was racked by violent coughing fits. The long haired man reached his friend immediately, gathering the other's rigid frame in his arms and pulling it against his chest in a more comfortable position.
Yuri's hand roamed to Flynn's forehead, his fingers brushing the golden locks as he felt the heat radiating from the skin. The writer clicked his tongue in both displeasure and worry, but silenced it for now, merely lowering his hand to the pianist's back and rubbing soothing circles to calm him. It took a while, and for a moment, Yuri was scared that the musician would pass out from lack of breath. He was relieved when the other's body finally eased up and became limp against his own. Flynn gulped deep and shaky breaths, his limbs trembling uncontrollably as he was steadied by his friend. The raven haired male's fingertips ran back to Flynn's forehead, feeling the heat once more.
"You're burning up. What are you doing out of bed?"
The dark haired man's tone was reproachful, a small contrast to his careful and gentle combing of the pianist's strands. The latter smiled weakly, closing his eyelids as he revelled into the touch, loving the icy sensation on his burning skin. The way he leaned onto Yuri's hand told the writer that Flynn enjoyed it quite much, but the latter's smile turning nostalgic caught him slightly off guard. He could not understand why the blonde was acting this way.
"I was fine a minute ago," the musician voiced out in an out of breath voice, cracking an eye open to stare at the long haired man.
The expression Yuri pulled told the pianist that the former found his words very hard to believe, and so he added, "I swear. I started feeling bad a few moments before you arrived. I was alright otherwise," he insisted, but it did not serve in easing the raven haired male's worry. Instead, the latter sighed heavily as he shook his head in discouragement.
"Anyway, this doesn't change the fact that it's off to bed for you. I'm not allowing you to work in that kind of state," Yuri concluded and he lowered himself to start helping the other up, but Flynn stopped him, pushing himself from the writer even though Yuri believed it must have taken a lot of willpower from the pianist, considering the way he seemed to enjoy being held.
The dark haired man scowled, not in the mood this early in the morning to be fighting.
"I can't, Yuri. I still need to work on this music. The princess' anniversary is in two weeks. I can't afford to lose any time now. I'll be fine. I'll rest when it's done," he protested, already trying to put himself into a sitting position, as wobbly as it was.
It was not hard to figure out that he would collapse again anytime soon, which made Yuri growl in frustration. Flynn could be so damn stubborn when he wanted and it irritated him to no end.
Before the pianist could touch the keys with his fingers, the writer reached for the lid faster and closed it over the board in an annoyed motion, although he was still careful not to break anything. The blonde was about to protest, but Yuri knocked him on the head, hard enough to knock some sense into him, but not strong enough to send him a painful headache.
"Damn it, Flynn, you're burning up! How many times do I have to repeat myself? You're certainly not in any condition to work, especially not to compose. Which, by the way, was completely bad before I arrived, because you were definitely not in the right mind to be playing. It was sloppy and full of mistakes you don't usually make. I'm also sure that what you wrote down must not make much sense. So you'll do me the pleasure of standing up and go wrap yourself up warmly in your bed so you can get better faster and work on this quicker, whether you like it or not. Am I clear?"
There was no place for any discussion in Yuri's tone; it was firm, strict and unwavering. Whatever Flynn would have to say for himself would not even work. The dark haired man was proving that he could be as hell as stubborn.
The pianist sighed as well, but finally agreed. His head was starting to pound and the prospect of staying in bed was more appealing than going out of his way to find a fitting melody for the princess' birthday. Besides, Yuri was right. He would not produce anything good if he was sick and, even if he managed to finish something, it would be looked down upon by the royal court. That was definitely not an option.
He stood up, with the help of his friend who wrapped an arm under his, and took shaky steps towards his room. Once he reached his destination, he collapsed on the bed, shivers running down his spine. The writer helped him inside the sheets, tucking him in with care and brushing the other's forehead with his fingertips, knowing that the latter must like it for their coldness. Yuri did not like how hot the other's skin was becoming and so he strode to the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom and grabbed a clean cloth in the cupboard before putting it under the cold running water.
When he came back, the pianist was seized with another coughing fit. The long haired male was immediately at the other's side, placing him in a sideway position so he would not choke, and started rubbing circles in his back. Yuri hated how hollow it sounded; it was worse than the last two times Flynn fell sick. Thankfully, Victoria would be coming soon enough. It would save the writer from going to fetch the doctor himself and leave the pianist alone. If there was one good thing about Flynn falling sick, it was that it always started somewhere early in the morning, allowing the raven haired male to stay by his side.
When Flynn eased up, shallow breathing coming in tired puffs, Yuri ran the cold moistened cloth on his face, gently swiping away the sweat. The blonde hummed in relief and gratification. With an amused smile, the writer kept his soothing motions for a moment more, then folded the cloth and delicately laid it atop the musician's forehead. He was then about to go fetch a chair, when a hand grabbed his wrist. He turned his attention to Flynn who was throwing him a pleading look, which caught the long haired man off guard.
"Don't go. Stay here," he requested in a low voice. Yuri chuckled.
"I'm not going anywhere. I was just grabbing a chair and coming back, don't worry. At least wait and see what people are doing instead of jumping to conclusions," he chastised teasingly. He raised an eyebrow when his friend shook his head instead.
"That's not what I meant." Yuri waited for something more, but instead, he was pulled downward and he fell beside the pianist.
The latter then grabbed his friend by the waist, pulling him closer without a second thought. The writer's face turned a deep shade of red immediately, his heart beating madly as he attempted to understand the situation. What was going on? What was Flynn doing?
"F-F-Flynn?" Yuri stuttered as he tried to push himself from the other, struggling to get away. However, the musician's grip was tight, despite his illness, and he buried his face into the raven haired male's neck, succeeding in making the other blush even more strongly. "W-what are you doing? L-let me go!"
However, the blonde was stubborn.
"Please, Yuri," he whispered pleadingly. "Let me stay like that, at least for a little while."
He would definitely not budge from his spot and Yuri sighed ever so softly, his struggling dying down and his features softening. He could not understand the pianist. The way he acted left to so many interpretations and the long haired man felt so confused. Could this mean that they were very close before he lost his memories? Yuri knew they were acquainted previously, he believed they were maybe somewhere along the line of friends. But now that the writer saw this, could it have been... more? His face flared for the third time and he stopped himself from shaking his head vigorously. This made no sense, no sense whatsoever. As if two men, one of high society, could even get together. Still, why was his heart warming at the prospect? Why did the mere idea sent waves of pure happiness and butterflies fluttering in his stomach? Why, why, why?
The raven haired male groaned inwardly and wrapped his own arms around Flynn protectively. Heck with it! He was tired of those questions and that confusion. He was a man of action and he should not care in any way of what happened. For now, he would put aside all these bothering thoughts and just lay here with the pianist as the latter requested.
"You're such a handful, you know that?" he teased with a false discouraged tone, hiding an amused smile in the blonde's strands.
"Tch! Look who's talking!" Flynn retorted with as much fun. His being was then racked by coughing and he clutched on his friend's shirt tightly for support. The amusement on Yuri's features faded for worry as he held the blonde tighter against him.
"I should go get your hot packs. It would help you," the writer advised in a soft voice, his fingers lightly caressing the golden locks. The sick man shook his head and managed to reply a few moments later.
"Not now. Wait for Victoria to arrive. I want to stay like this for now."
Yuri gently voiced his agreement at those words before he resumed his distracted caressing. Even though it felt good to be in such position, he wished for the errand girl to arrive soon. He could hear the blonde wheeze painfully and the writer hated to hear it. The faster she came, the quicker she could go fetch the doctor; whom Yuri hoped would do a better job than he was currently doing. Flynn's condition was not getting better, despite his good moments. Instead, those were shortening and the musician's health was slowly but surely declining. That doctor needed to find a real cure as soon as possible. Flynn never deserved to suffer as such, Yuri was certain of that fact.
"Alright. Sleep now, you need the rest."
Flynn did not need to be told twice and, as he closed his eyes, his slumber was quick to catch him. Yuri watched him with a light smile, but it was soon replaced by melancholy. Without realising what he was doing, he brushed his lips against the other's burning forehead, barely touching. He would ponder over it later. For now, his friend was more important.
"You have to get better soon, Flynn."
[1] Forgot to mention this in the previous chapter, but an ice box was the fridge's ancestor. It was packed with fresh ice every morning as it was distributed to townspeople, and so it was easier to keep food that way.
[2] Back in that time, they used hot packs (hot-water bottles) to cure any breathing problems.
[3] This person really existed. It was actually a woman, using a male penname in order to be able to publish her works. She was called Amantine Aurore Lucile Dupin. That's a... rather long name o.o
[4] I seriously could not stop myself there xD Their names were just too similar!
[5] Quoting Chopin ;p
[6] It might not seem so outrageous today, but back then, a woman showing the least parcel of skin was as bad as being completely nude xD
[7] Of course, I couldn't give her blue hair, lol. Sorry about that.
A/N: Whew, it's finally done! That took quite some time, I'm sorry about that ;A; I just really hope that this was to everyone's liking!
On a side note, I just wanted to mention that Franz Liszt was not entirely how I've been and will play him. He was a frivolous and happy person, I do believe, but the way I tweaked him was... really tweaking xD I've had a blast playing him, since he was sometimes speaking to me a whole lot more than Yuri and Flynn were doing owo. I hope you will grow to like (or hate, depending on how you see him xD) him very much, because I've put a lot of efforts into him ;p
Thank you very, very much to my four reviewers. I love you very much! Your words of encouragement means the world to me! I hope I will receive some more, because it's obviously what feeds an author xD
Thank you again, and see you soon, I hope owo
