November 1960

It was a rough week for Schroeder.

He had sprained his wrist the other day while they were playing baseball. While it wasn't severe, it meant that he wasn't able to play piano for at least another day or two.

Regardless, Lucy still caught him tapping out melodies on tables and desks while they were at school. She could tell it was driving him nuts.

To tide himself over, he listened to his classical records almost non-stop when he was at home. Lucy stayed around for them, but she had to admit that it wasn't quite the same as live music.

Today, they were listening to Beethoven's sixth symphony. Schroeder claimed it was called the Pastoral Symphony, and it was supposed to invoke imagery of nature or something.

Maybe it was because Lucy was tuckered out from school that day, maybe not, but she couldn't really see it (rather, hear it). It was lovely, sure, but right now, it was just putting her to sleep.

They were laying on his rug, staring at the ceiling. His hands were joined over his chest, and he had a pleasant, relaxed look on his face. She was picking at strands of the carpet and thinking about how glad she was that it was Saturday tomorrow.

The gentle second movement ended, and there was a brief pause in the music. Schroeder sighed. "What a masterpiece."

"You say that about everything Beethoven did."

"He was a genius."

"I guess you can't argue with success."

The third movement was a bit more peppy then the one that came before. Apparently, it was supposed to portray country folk dancing. Lucy liked it. There wasn't any piano in this particular symphony – it was mostly string instruments and woodwinds – but it was still nice.

Suddenly, the tempo sped up.

Schroeder's pretty brown eyes lit up under his pretty blonde eyelashes. "This is the best part. Listen."

The record crackled slightly as the violins and flutes harmonized. Schroeder stared into space, completely engrossed, and his hand shot out and grabbed Lucy's, seemingly of its own volition.

She almost gasped in surprise at the gesture, but kept her mouth shut.

He was conducting an invisible orchestra with his free, injured hand, his eyes now shut and his brow furrowed. A new, intense expression crossed his face every few moments, and his breathing synced up with the melody. It was like he was somewhere else entirely and was trying to take her with him.

Endeared to him, she watched for a few minutes.

She wanted to kiss him more than anything, but, faced with physical affection that he had initiated, she froze. She could kiss his nose all day and watch him get angry, no problem, but that was different. That was just her teasing him.

A real kiss wasn't something she dared to try. A real kiss was something that might make him push her away for good.

The worst part was that, for the first time, she almost thought he might kiss her back if she tried to at this exact moment. Just maybe. But all she could do was stare, lips parted in hesitation, feeling like a cartoon character with sparkling, doe-like eyes, and also feeling like a complete moron.

The third movement ended abruptly, and Schroeder withdrew his hand casually, like he hadn't even noticed where it had been for the past few minutes. He appeared to feel a lot better than he had since he hurt his wrist. "You know what, Lucy? I'm glad I got to show this symphony to you. I haven't listened to it in a while."

She looked straight ahead. "Of course."