Story 3: Bewitched
Disclaimer: I can draw… sticks; but no mangaka here. Therefore, I don't own this series (??) Huuuoohhh… I can write! (sort of).
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Chiaki woke up with the faint music echoing in the room. This is uncommon most days; especially this season of cold winter mornings and adventurous nights. The sheets are crisp; almost too clean for his taste, but he prefers this over how things were before: overflowing laundry, scattered stale underwear everywhere, old noodles left at the kitchen counter, and cold miserable (horrible) curries.
He scratched his head, the clock beside the bed only said seven fifteen in the morning; absolutely uncommonly early for her to be up and awake and dandy enough to play the piano. But he's getting used to such eccentricities; after all, she can be as unpredictable as a thunderstorm during summer time.
He walked out of the bedroom, still in his pajamas and went straight to the kitchen, where breakfast of French bread, omelettes with cream cheese and bell peppers are already laid. Some mornings, she'd be too engrossed in playing that she'd forget the toast, and he'll wake up with the smell of burning bread or bacon or metal (pots) or wood (spatula). Of course, he can't be too angry. He'll only strain himself because she'll be as unaffected as always, would just wave at him and show that pout when he starts displaying his sour demeanor.
This morning, it's Beethoven's Sonata No.8 in C minor; Pathetique. The initial impression with the piece would be quite melancholy, but as it progresses, the notes become more defined, as they go to forte and as the tempo reaches the peak, then fades away to how it started. It's a piece that is just so hard to appreciate since it is not as grand and as colorful as some of Beethoven's other works. And it's hard to picture her playing it; just like when she struggled with that piece of Schubert.
Chiaki closed his eyes, felt the cold floor beneath his feet and listened to the sounds made by her fingers playing across the keys. He liked her best when she plays; when it seemed that the world just revolved around her and that piano. He opened his eyes and devoured the silhouette she made with the early morning sunlight and the drapes.
Those annoying but wonderful lips forming that mischievous pout; the face showing nothing but pure delight, those shoulders swaying with every note she made as if they are completely detached from but still part of her. Seeing her like this beats the best he liked about her (which are very few, considering, but enough to make him stay there on the spot, just staring at her).
What's so captivating about this sonata is the ending; you can't really tell when it is.
"Hmm… you're up early Chiaki-sempai.." she slanted her head to the left looking at him.
"Tch. You woke me up. Can't you play a little less noisy?" he replied, shaking off the spell she had cast over him moments ago.
"Ahh… you shouldn't be so grim so early, ne? How about this?!" she teased, and then launched into an almost too lively performance.
It's a Mozart; Twinkle Twinkle Little star variations.
"Oi! Don't be too enthusiastic!" he shouted with very little eagerness as he had intended.
Then she started singing and humming to the tune… "La-la-la-la.. little star.. lala-lala-la-you are.."
This girl? She doesn't even know the words. He suppressed a giggle building up, and just looked at her shoulders bobbing up and down, her hair, now almost reaching down to the middle of her back swaying side to side.
If it's music she just forgets everything. Later on, she would complain of lower back pain and "tummy cramps", yet she still go at it every time, giving it her all, as she always does in everything in her life; in their life.
That little guy must be pretty stressed-out in there, he thought, his gaze following the contour of her growing belly. She finds it harder and harder to play everyday; but well, nothing can stop her. She'd told him that little Sinichi-kun is very vigorous when she plays piano; and had rhapsodized about forming a family orchestra; not a quartet or any band with less than eight members, but an orchestra. She is just impossible.
Mozart finished with the last note echoing against the walls of their small apartment and as he called her for breakfast.
"Hmm… Sinichi, what do you want to name baby-kun?"
"Eh--?" he'd thought about it but never came up with a definite name.
"What about you?" he asked back.
"Hmm… Milch!"
Milch?!
"Ehehe.. isn't it nice? I got it from Milch; he's your sensei after all; and it has a nice sound; don't you think?"
"Idiot! What kind of name is that?! Why do you want to name our first child after that perverted old freak?!" he glared at her and slapped her with a baguette. And she said: "GYaboOoo!!"
But of course, he didn't do this; her being in a condition. Instead, he remained gaping at her, with a disconcerted / unbelieving / astounded look.
She's just so.. so.. impossible?? (can't find any other words)
But staying with her, protecting her, understanding her weird ranting, and listening to her music, just seem to be all worth it. Glancing at her occasionally, being annoyed at how messy she still eats, he can't help but be bewitched.
Maybe he's just mellowed out. Or maybe it's just that "love" thing.
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This is the last one; still waiting for other fics to come.
Mukya!!