Chapter Four: Shattered Truth

                                    

                                          
Yesterday, I awoke to the gentle sound of my piano downstairs being played.  The day before, Erik snuck me back into the Opera House before the staff and talents arrived, giving me the grand tour and showing me everything he loves about the place.  The day before that, I was with Jarod, who gave me another bruise from holding my arm too tightly while we walked through the city together.  It's been almost a week since Erik showed up on my balcony, and I've either been spending time with him, or avoiding Jarod like the plague.  I told Jarod I was under the weather and didn't wish to get him sick.  He's believed it thus far, but I know the time I've bought myself is rapidly running out.  That being said, every moment Erik and I have spent together, laughing, talking, simply existing has healed so much within me.  The voice of my mother which once haunted me has faded.  I know I've found a friend for life, at best.
Today, against my protest, Erik is taking the time to tune my piano, having claimed that it, and I quote, "Is starting to sound like Carlotta Giudicelli."  I laughed for a solid minute.  I've been to a few of her performances with Jarod, and every single one of them nearly made my ears bleed.  I stopped telling him it wasn't necessary after that comment.
I'm seated on the couch, a cup of tea in hand, as I watch Erik work.  He's dressed in another one of his lightweight, flowy white shirts, and his black dress pants.  The rest of his ensemble is up in my room, draped across the desk chair, where he puts them every time he shows up.  He's been coming through my balcony, so he can avoid any wandering eyes watching the walk up to my home.  This is so mundane.  I love it.  I haven't been able to take my eyes off him for the past few minutes, as he's been stretched out across the piano, working on the various tuning pegs.  I only know how to play it; I was never taught how to tune it.  Before Erik, it was simply collecting dust because I no longer found joy in it.  Now, it means much more to me... as does he.  I know we care for one another, that's obvious, but in an attempt to honor me and my own boundaries, we're staying in our own separate corners.  I don't want to be in this corner anymore though.  I cannot deny that my feelings for this man go far beyond that in which a friend is supposed to feeling... Perhaps it's only because he's been there for me and has shown me kindness, and it's nothing more than my adoration towards him.  You're staring at his chest as his shirt drapes away from his body.  You're so full of yourself.
I rip my eyes away from him.  Damn.  I take a sip of tea as Erik straightens himself back out, sits down on the bench, and begins playing a hauntingly beautiful melody on the newly tuned keys.  "Much better," he calls over the sound.
"Erik, I could give you a stick and a pot, and you would still make beautiful music," I counter as my smile grows.
He laughs before hitting the last note.  "You put too much faith in me, Y/N.  Not everything can be played."
"I don't believe you," I playfully sneer before standing from my seat and getting him a cup of tea as well.  "It sounds lovely.  Thank you for taking the time."
"It's a beautiful instrument and deserves to be cared for," he counters as he takes the cup from me.  "Thank you."
"It is," I agree as I sit down on the bench as well, scooting in next to him.  "It's been neglected for too long..."  I eye the keys, wondering what I remember from my years of learning as a child.  Reaching out, I graze my fingertips across the ivory.  The familiar sensation makes me smile once more.  Once I start pressing the notes, my muscle memory takes over as I play.  Nocturnes, Op.9 No.2 by Choplin passes through my fingers and fills the room in its splendor.  Erik sits peacefully next to me, getting lost in the sound of my playing, just as I do in his.  As I play, I feel his hand mindlessly be placed gently against my lower back.  I don't stop, but I notice it immediately.  With a quick glance over at him, I find his eyes are closed and he's lost in a bliss so grand, I don't think I've yet to see him this happy.  I wish to capture his expression.  Realizing that was his first instinct, to place his hand there, causes my cheeks to heat.