Work Text:
It echoed upstairs; down the hall. Music.
An early return from the forest led Paige to soundlessly creep into the house. She heard it as soon as she crossed the threshold, closing the door.
Muffled. Airy. Resounding in a manner that enchanted her attention away from the berryless basket on her arm.
Sunshine beamed through the humble window, setting the room aglow. She spent a moment likening some of the scene to a Still Life, but her eyes were already cast under the luminescence of a particular sound.
As if spellbound, she tipped noiselessly up the stairwell, one hand unconsciously gracing the banister as she went.
The notes trailed to her ears, whispering and inviting her with cordiality to the source. As she scaled to the second floor, she recognized the room from which it came.
Paige remembered that old-fashioned, chestnut-finished piano sitting idly in Tony’s room for as long as she could remember. She was sure it served more purposefully as a dust collector; perhaps she’d been wrong this whole time. It was very likely he played only in her absence, understandably.
Chords struck her as gently as they did forcefully. Her gaze narrowed in curious wonderment as she stealthily neared Tony’s room. Stopping justly by the wall next to the door, she allowed herself to press a fascinated ear to the divider.
One, two, three,
One, two, three,
She counted the rounding steps to herself, in time with the melody. The bright, lively woman abstractedly clutched the chest of her dress as she listened.
She knew this waltz.
Paige had this sheet music in her room; a dual piece, meant for a violin and a…
Piano.
Pristine gloved hands, twirling across ivory keys danced through her colorful mind. She could picture him; at the seat of the instrument, eyes focused and sober under the captivity of the music. Stoically postured, lips chaste against feeling; the golden, auric tips of his hair dipping just over his brow, playing a song that they both knew.
Tony, with an artistic talent. How unexpectedly…
Creative.
Her teeth involuntarily bit against the inside of her cheeks, preventing the slight of a smile she didn’t realize was there. Paige inhaled, stepping lightly away, backing down the hall to her own room. She entered as quietly as she came, with her eyes locked to the floor.
Had ice entered her blood? Had fire?
She rubbed at her temples, fingers tracing against the heat of her face.
Exhaling with reprieve, her gaze caught sight of her own instrument.
The song–which was nearing its end–rebounded to her ears like a subdued embrace against the door. Paige calmly paced over to it, cradling the polished violin in her inky, delicate hands.
She could try something. But oh, would it cross a line?
That was always the question, wasn’t it?
The notes faded–pianissimo. Then silence.
She positioned herself and began to play the reprise of the duet.
There was no interruption as she bowed the high strings to her whim, and the air was dead when she stopped.
No response.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Too far this time. Too much. She went too far, she ruined everyth–
An ending piano scale resounded down the hall, with feather lightness.
Paige looked to the door, eyes softened.
Sentimentality and mutual assurance crept onto the edge of her lips.
Some songs are better without words.