The first thing she
felt was immediate warmth.
“Morning,” a husky
voice murmured in her ear. Shivers went down her spine and a warm hand tucked a
loose strand of hair away from her face. She swore that she could sense his
smile even though his lips were centimeters away and even though she was facing
elsewhere. An arm wrapped itself around her waist and pulled her closer; the
same pair of lips went from touching the air to touching her jaw. And again,
she shivered. His lips this time went up, curving slightly into a haughty
smirk.
“G’morning,” she replied.
Trying to suppress a giggle. Or a laugh. “Good sleep?”
“Mhm.” He shifted a
little bit so that she was on top now. The blanket stayed, covering them both.
Now, she was gazing into a pair of delighted blue eyes. The blue eyes that
stayed on her face, his fingers now rubbing circles on her waist. She made a
small, delighted sound and those eyes lit up. “Great sleep. Excellent rest.
Amazing…” eyes darted to the clock, “…nine hours. Not bad.”
“You’re stalling.”
“Stalling?”
“Yes.” She leaned in
and kissed his cheek, “Stalling.”
“Now, why would I
stall?”
His smirk was gone and
the childish smile was back.
She poked his chest.
“Because,” she ended up
whispering, “It’s Christmas.”
Ten minutes later, they
were in the living room, she in his shirt and loose shorts, and he simply in
his own pair of shorts that reached his knees. Matt ached for a smoke but kept
the desire in, instead using the image of his beloved to keep the want down. He
watched as she shook the box with a little impish grin and he chuckled, leaning
back on the couch and watching as she tore the present open. He recalled her
saying that she had already exchanged gifts with her co-workers the day before
so that they could have the day to themselves.
Perfume sets, books, and
strangely enough, a fruit basket with a box containing a blender. Matsumoto had
sent flowers (that bastard), a card and a reservation for two at one of Japan’s
highest rated hotels. She was in disbelief and Matt grinned at her reaction,
amused that she was still not used to the Japanese’s extravagant gifts.
“He can stick with the
flowers and the card,” she muttered, raising a brow at him. He laughed.
“And what, decorating
our house like two years ago?”
“Hey, that was nice. I
love his gifts, but…” A trailed off, but he understood. “Moving on. Let’s see
what you got for me this time,” she grinned, taking one of the three boxes that
he had left for her under the tree. His eyes glanced at the red wrapping and he
merely shrugged as if it was nothing.
“Don’t expect too much
from me, darling.”
She rolled her eyes
good-naturedly and tore open the packaging, puzzled at the sight of a white box
containing a green glossy clear folder. Something thick lay underneath.
“Matt…”
“Confused?” she nodded.
A grin lit his face, “I think you need to open the second gift first.” He then
handed her an envelope and the confusion in her features increased. He resisted
the urge to laugh good naturedly and watched as she opened, a small piece of
paper falling out.
‘The old room we used for our storage, I decided to
renovate. -M’
“Renovate?” her voice
rose in pitch, “Matt, when the hell did you decide to renovate-”
“Shh, now calm down.
Calm down, darling.” He stood up and extended a hand, she grabbing hold and
standing as well. “Come on. Let’s go there, the gift is there.”
“You mean the second
gift-”
“Is in that room.
Granted, that envelope contains something else from me, but that’s another
thing to discuss later on.”
“I’m suddenly wary,
Mail Jeevas.”
“Don’t be, love.” He
gently nudged her closer to the door where the storage used to be, “Open.
There’s no spider or Matsumoto in there – I’d prefer the spider, though.”
She frowned at him and
shook her head, but put her hand on the knob and turned slowly.
A opened the door and
took a hesitant step in, Matt following and closing the door from behind. He
turned on the lights and in that moment, there was nothing but silence and her
wide eyes staring at what was in front of her.
“How did you…”
“Matsumoto.” He took
her hand and led her closer, “He recently went to his old house. Got things he
wanted to keep in his new one and saw this. Thought you’d like it because he
knows you have a passion for it, so he told me and we decided to have this
little darling fixed up.” The ginger man looked at her, “Like it?”
Like was an
understatement. A slowly ran her fingers across the keys of the sleek black
piano and remained quiet, memories playing in her head. Blurry memories in
England. Slightly distinguishable ones from Wammy’s. A clear one of a woman
with blonde curls playing before a young girl and a man with adoration in his
eyes.
“I forgot how to play,”
she told herself, and he heard.
“I don’t think so.”
“I did – I mean…” she
struggled with her words and Matt gently sat her down, waiting until she looked
at him. “…I can barely remember my lessons. Not even a whole song. I have to
learn again, Matt, and I’m not sure if I have the time for that-”
“It’s what the clear
folder was for.”
She blinked.
“It has the notes? The sheets?”
He nodded quietly.
“And the thing under
it…”
“It was a guide.
Matsumoto found it while cleaning out and thought it would be good for you. I
was the one who printed the sheets and compiled them. But this,” he touched the
piano, “this is all yours. I…I remember back then. In Wammy’s.”
It was still a
sensitive topic to discuss with her.
So he chose his words
carefully, not wanting any of them to open up an already healing wound.
“I saw you playing one
day. But I didn’t know who you were. In the end, I just watched until Mello
dragged me away and called me out for being a voyeur,” he smiled at the memory
rather fondly. “But it was nice. It’s one of the few memories I have of you in
the orphanage.”
“What was I playing?”
He was about to ask why
she couldn’t remember, but he stopped. Of course. She had played so many songs
throughout the years, asking her would be like asking what she had drank during
Matsumoto’s latest gala. Matt sat next to her, watching her face.
“Fur Elise.”
“Fur Elise…” and she scrunched up her face in thought, hands moving
over the keys and slowly moving down until she was touching them once more. “I
think I remember that one.”
“Will you…”
He didn’t bother
finishing his sentence because she had already begun.
She stopped every few
keys. Thought back in her head, started from the beginning, stopped and
thought, and the cycle went on for a couple of minutes. Once she got the hang
of it, however, she continued. And she played on and on, and Matt felt like he
was reliving the memory of her once more. Except, this time, he had done
something different.
He was next to her now,
and she was playing for him.
If the composition had
lyrics, he bet that she would be singing them.
Her fingers skated
across the keys, almost flying.
And when she had
finished, she was just as hesitant as she was when she had started.
The final note was
played and silence surrounded them.
She stared the keys, as
if wondering what the hell she had done. Her fingers trembled slightly, unused
to such feelings. He did the math in his head; it was likely that the last time
she had played was…eight to ten years ago. Perhaps less. But she hadn’t touched
a piano ever since she had gotten to Tokyo, that was for sure.
“I missed that.”
“Playing?”
“Mhm.” She was leaning
her head on his shoulder now. “It’s going to be hard to relearn nearly
everything…but I’ll manage. I’ll do it.”
“All for the piano?”
“For Matsumoto, maybe.”
She teased. His face fell. “I’m kidding, love. For you. For myself. This is a
passion I want to earn back.”
“I’m sure you’ll get
it.” His hand came up and he laced their fingers together, both hands resting
on the keys of the piano. “I believe you will.”
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