You Only Get What You Give
Fandom: Peanuts
Pairing: Schroeder/Lucy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Characters created by Charles M. Shulz & owned by United Feature Syndicate, I apologise to both and emphasize that I make no money off this and that it's only 500 words and just not a big deal.
Notes: I'm feel bad about the fact that nobody gets a happy ending in my writing. Looked over by the kind sparklegirl (on LJ).
--
They're 8 and he realizes he can't play when she isn't there. He tries, but the melodies don't come to him and his fingers don't move on the keys as smoothly as usual.
"Good grief," he mutters and tries again, failing.
She returns the next day and he sighs out of relief. And plays again, for her, secretly. She goes on in her usual careless fashion, blabbing away about baseball, women's rights, how wonderful she is and how he should realize that before she slips through his fingers. He doesn't really listen.
--
They're 18 and this time he has to ask her to stay.
"Please Lucy, just for a few afternoons," he begs and her eyes are rimmed with kohl as black as her hair. She folds her arms and looks at him, says yes. He doesn't smile but thanks her.
She doesn't remember Beethoven's birthday, favourite cereal or how many wives he had – neither does he. He has new idols, new goals. He's won many things, looking at the trophies and the diplomas, and she hasn't lost much but never gained him.
"My parents won't like that," he says as she lights a cigarette, and he can't tell her it's him who doesn't like it.
She has new interests now. He hasn't dared to ask their names yet and he probably never will. But he's seen them, in the school hallways, hanging near her locker. Not lately, though, lately she hasn't been coming to school at all.
His parents don't like him associating with a high school dropout. He can't really bring himself to care.
"Boring," she says, inhaling smoke. "Play something cheerful."
I can't he wants to say but doesn't.
--
They're 28 and he's played in all the big halls now, he's not the child genius anymore, he's only brilliant. She still lives in the small town; she's never become famous, never graduated, never kept a job for more than three weeks. She just doesn't have the temper for any of that. Steady jobs, marriage, kids.
He visits his parents and while he's in town, he decides to invite her for a dinner and a movie, the usual thing, just as friends.
He can play without her now, but he still can't compose. That's why he's here. That's why he buys her dinner, a drink and invites her over to his parents' house, over to his graduation present, the expensive grand piano.
They sit at the piano and she looks at him, tenderly, and he plays like he hasn't in such a long time and he has to get this down. As he scribbles down notes, she realizes what he wants from her.
Inspiration. Nothing more, nothing less.
She should've guessed. Storming out, she spits her last words at him angrily, "Oh God, you never did change" and he's alone, a certain empty feeling left inside his chest.
This is when he realizes that all along he could've asked for so much more than he did.