Was it my head or heart that beats?

Across the halls, an unusual sound awake me from my hibernation. I peaked my head from the couch and looked around. My thoughts, fuzzy. I could barely focus. My vision was blurry as I scrambled around for my glasses. When I found them, I placed it on and the veil of blur was lifted and my vision was as clear as water.

My eyes fell upon the green book, my perverted companion. He was sleeping like a baby so I didn't disturb him at all. I poured myself a glass of water and followed the elegant echoes of that sound. I followed the hall and that sound caught me like a siren. When I reached the source, I peaked my head out slightly.

Someone was at the piano. It was Satou with his silver hair. It makes me want to clench and rip it off. But he was playing so elegantly. I didn't know he could play a piano, or that there was a piano here. I approached him and started him, "Wow such forte with the piano."

He jumped up from his seat and turned to me with puppy dog eyes. "Margery-san" he said with his thick Japanese accent, "when did you awake?" He gave me a guilty look which made me sigh with repulse.

I brushed off his question and asked him, "When did you start playing the piano?"

"Six or seven years ago," he replied. "I kinda taught myself."

I was surprised to say the least. Self taught, and with such experience. "Play a piece," I bluntly asked him. He followed my orders and turned back to his piano. With the precision of a surgeon, he played Beethoven and Pachelbel practically flawlessly. Besides Satou, there was only one person who I knew who can play with such skill. However, one thing was distinct with their playing style, as I observed, they both cross their hands constantly; both Satou and him.

After he finished Canon in D, he turned towards me and asked with his Japanese tone, "Margery-san, do you know how to play?"

I really hate that formality, "san." It creates a rift between us and prevent any closer relation. You won't see me "san" or "kun" someone. To create such a respectful tone could sever instead of mend.

"Margery-san," Satou said again. Apparently I was lost in thought. It took a bit to recollect my thoughts.

"Someone taught me a little bit a long time again," I answered, "but I don't have nearly as much skill as you do though."

He stood up and asked with that same damn accent, "Margery-san, I'd like you see you play."

Honestly, I only knew the basics but I couldn't tell him that, he was already welcoming me onto the piano. I sat down and Satou gave an eager puppy dog look. I brushed the keys of the piano and noticed its roughness. It seems that Satou really does spend much time on the piano.

I started to hit the keys here and there. The mixture was not as elegant as Satou. G, C, F, C, Whole, Quarter notes; no matter what I hit, it was all awkward. Satou looked at me with those open violet eyes. I got nervous under that stare, I couldn't lie any more: "Okay, I have nearly no experince with the piano," I confessed.

He sighed then sat besides me. He grabbed my hands, already on the keys, and guided them across the piano. "Hit this note with your pinky," he commanded. I did what I was told. "Now hit this note with your index." And thus I followed. After a few more demands, I began to play more eloquently and skillfully.

He gave me a blazing smile. "See it isn't that hard Margery-san," he complimented me with his Japanese tongue.

I started to fool around more and more with the piano. My eyes panned across the piano and noticed a bunch of picture frames. But one caught my eyes; it had a silver frame with a picture of a blond haired woman holding the arms of a child.

I held the frame and took a closer look at it. It was obvious that the boy was Satou but I had no idea who that woman was. Satou sensed my curiosity and answered my silent question. "She's my mother," he melancholily answered.

Hm, his mother. Ever since I've been here, I've never seen neither his mother nor father. I sighed and asked, "So where is your mother? I've never seen her."

He grew silent. I guess I hit a raw nerve. I hid my face in my palm in shame. But then he answered, "She always goes out and drink."

I rose my head again. I guess that's why he is so vigorous with temperance. Alcohol drifted him away from his parents. I sighed, "I guess your mother and I are pretty alike."

He shook his head and reassured me, "My mother gets drunk and vanished, but you get drunk but I still see you. You're always home, unlike her."

I stood there and thought for a while. He just compared me to his mother. No, more than that. He just told me that I'm better than his mother: I'm always there. I look toward him and he started playing again. Things started to clear up. Because his mother is always gone, he plays the piano for his entertainment.

"Satou," I called his name. He looked into my gaze and approached closer. But his eyes pulled me in as well. We both blushed intensely but my hand moved on its own. I pressed him away with my finger and said, "don't ever compliment me like unless I asked."

I got up and started down the hallway. I heard him sigh and start playing again. Heh, I guess I'm going to ask again sooner or later.

Author's Note: Just incase someone didn't know, the title was an inspiration from the Journey song "Don't Stop Believing." In the story, I'll alternate point-of-views, as you seen in this chapter. Anyways, I liked the reviews, thank you very much.