New beginnings weren't always a good thing, but with Soul at her side, Natasha believed that they could overcome anything.
She was his anchor in many ways- something that couldn't be budged without a bit of force and something that had always tethered him to reality. They grew up together, bound to one another since the beginning of time. Before he could walk, Soul was sat in front of Natasha. And from the moment that he touched her smooth ivory, she knew that he would be the one that she would spend the rest of her life with.
Only he knew every one of her curves and unlocked every key in her body. Only her Soul could coax her body to create pure music and use her to her fullest potential. In return, she offered her company through the worst of his days and the best of his nights. Natasha was his favorite confidant and his greatest ally, so once he decided to finally move away from home, she was the one to leave with him.
Everything in their future was laid out for them. They would get an apartment together in the city, one over a bakery where Soul could wake up to the smell of fresh bread and warmth every morning. He would return to her in a few minutes after he woke up and then they would watch the sunrise become midday from their window as Soul sipped from the coffee that sat on top of Natasha. After he left to do what he needed to outside of their walls, they would spend the night together as close as an instrument and her musician could.
The one thing she didn't account for was their first fight.
Soul hadn't been paying attention. That was the first offense. He'd never neglected to give Natasha attention before, why now? It was almost like he was distracted by something. But Soul, what could be more beautiful than the lemon scented wood polish that coated her skin? What could have stolen his gaze from his captivating instrument?
When the movers lowered Natasha from her place in the truck, Soul had been looking at the bakery- at the vile little girl in an apron behind the counter surrounded by half-baked whole wheat bread. The disgusting smile on his face wasn't for his one true piano but for that wench who'd caught his eye and made the mistake of waving to him. Natasha's hood vibrated, seething with rage when Soul's face became blotched in the same red that marked his cheeks in sickness. He didn't know the girl; she didn't deserve his attention nor this human reaction. That was the second offense.
And the third?
He had the nerve to wave back, and when he did, Natasha slipped from his hand, landing with a crash onto the asphalt while the other workers failed to support her body. Her strings from inside shifted, and she swears the mahogany on her legs were scratched. She let out a scream of agony, the noise sounding like cackling hell spawn had crawled through the molten cracks of the earth, their nails scraping on the ground as they pulled themselves up from the depths.
Something broke within her that day. Call it the flood gates or the foundation of her sweetness, but a new intense sensation budded in her, planting the seed of jealousy that tainted her ivory with ebony. The discord rang out, merging with Natasha's cry.
But he didn't react to it until the girl covered and her silent gasp, following the trail of her eyes and realizing the source of her surprise. He wasn't worried, asking the hired help to lift the piano again and then they made their way upstairs, resting Natasha next to the window where she nursed her own wounds alone.