A/N: And, chapter two. I know I kind of ignored his name, and I actually didn't mean to do that. But by the time I had finished, re-read it, realized I had done that, I kind of figured it fit. So here it is. Our number one favorite man!
Disclaimer: The day I own this is the day I turn into a magenta gingham hippopotamus.
Pairing: Still E/C, my dears. Why would I change that?
Song: She's Out of My Life by Josh Groban.
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It was raining.
He watched it pelt the window, little rivulets of water pouring down in clear streams. He leaned against the wall, not having difficulty seeing in the dark room. The ebony piano stood silently in the middle of the room, glowing in the little light that the clouds allowed to seep through. It beckoned, in a way, but he turned his face away and let his eyes fall to his arms.
He wouldn't play. Not now, not ever again. But the melodies in his soul made up for the loss of feeling the ivory keys beneath his fingers, and he found it difficult to quench the tunes within.
She's out of my life
She's out of my life
And I don't know whether to laugh or cry
I don't know whether to live or die
And it cuts like a knife
She's out of my life
Of course she was. There was no reason she should stay, not after all he had put them through. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, delusioning himself and those around him that he was safe and beautiful and pure as snow. But as soon as the shard of glass touched his skin, as soon as one watches the process of ripping the white skin, one saw the black underneath.
No one could stay around him, and he didn't blame them.
It's out of my hands
It's out of my hands
To think for two years she was here
And I took her for granted I was so cavalier
Now the way that It stands
She's out of my hands
He had to give her credit. Two years with a monster? It must have felt like a lifetime…and the moment she found the truth he wasn't surprised she left him. There had been hints all along, and that one moment in time was the last straw.
The rain attracted his attention once more, and he tugged absently at the leather gloves, making sure they were secure.
He was in one of the few secluded areas of Manhattan, a place where the apartments were large and elegantly tasteful if you had enough money, where you had your choice of a view of the city or a view of a man-made Eden. He chuckled to himself. Both ways you looked at it you were simply viewing what another man created…but the garden was far better than facing the fumes and smoke and the people living out their days.
He imagined that the people in the city were far happier than he was here. After all, wasn't New York the one place where everyone could start anew? The City That Never Sleeps?
So I've learned that love's Not Possession
And I've learned that love won't wait
Now I've learned that love needs expression
But I learned too late
He winced, cursing his inner music to distract him once more. At least he was honest with himself, though.
He knew there was no chance to go back, no chance to do it again. He had his share of second chances, each used and abused. There was no point in trying again when one knew they would fail, was there? The chances of him finding love…finding love and living up to the expectations of that woman were ridiculously low. There was no one on earth who would look at a wolf and ask to dine with him
Unless, of course, they were looking to be eaten. But that was a little pathetic. Then again, who was he to talk about pathetic? He lived in a never ending circle of pathetic.
She's out of my life
She's out of my life
Damned Indecision and cursed pride
Kept my love for her locked deep Inside
And it cuts like a knife
She's out of my life
He looked up sharply as a doorbell sounded. He stood, stunned for a moment, until a weak thumping that he barely recognized as knocking filled his ears. He furrowed his brow, walking slowly towards the front door. No one ever came to visit, except for Nadir. And Nadir was…well, he would probably just pick the lock, break the chain, enter the room and hit his friend on the head for thinking depressing thoughts again.
Besides, the knocking was extremely weak, a far cry from Nadir's outgoing and strong personality. He hesitated, wondering who could be behind the door, before undoing the locks and opening the door cautiously.
Before him lay a blonde woman in severe disarray. She was unconscious, wet, wearing a business suit and clutching a brief case, and—the most alarming thing and what made him decide to bring the young woman inside—bleeding from her left temple with bruising under her right eye.
Today was gonna be great. He could tell.