[OC fic] Late Night Concert
A little oneshot inspired by the very beautiful Gran Torino OST, sung by Jamie Cullum.
Featuring cupcake’s OC Michael, and also my OC Damian.
Boy×boy love, so if you don’t like that, don’t read. Nothing to be afraid of, though, it’s just something sweet. And sleepy…
[Also to be found on Tumblr.]
~×~
It was already deep into the veil of night, in fact almost time for the earliest birds to start chirping outside. In the dim light of his small table lamp and that of the computer screen, a young writer’s fingers assiduously moved over the keyboard, though more and more cumbersome with every word his tired mind still managed to come up with at that hour.
Words and bits of sentences kept storming in Michael’s head, rendering him unable to go to sleep just yet, but also giving him a tough time untangling all the lines of inspiration. With a sigh, he pushed at the edge of his desk to lean back in his chair, then reached for the can of energy drink on his left, and letting out a small, tired groan as he discovered that it was already empty. It was no use, he would have to go to bed, even if just to rest his eyes - he was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink, with all those thoughts whirling in his brain.
Thoughts of cloudy, misty nights and howling wind, creaking steps and half-open doors, ravens sitting on crooked branches… Keys of a piano sounding off, slowly, delicately, one after another, weaving a music sheet lined lace of a velvety melody…
What a beautiful song…
It took a moment until Michael realized two things. Firstly, that he had closed his eyes for a moment behind the transparent layer of his glasses. And secondly, that the sounds of a piano being played were indeed real, seeping in through the small crack he had left his door open to.
The melody, slow and sweet, was cradling his weary mind so wonderfully. Just like those hands that were stroking over the black and white keys usually held and soothed him, caressed his anxieties away as easily as they pushed down note after note in perfect harmony…
The thought made his cheeks a little warmer, and he held his blanket around himself a little tighter, its fabric brushing against his naked arms, the small hairs along his skin on their edge with goosebumps. The wrinkles in his forehead ceased and he smiled.
He simply loved to listen to his lover play.
~×~
At times, days of rush and strained-paced work simply throws your natural, meant-to-be balance off, exhausting and riling up at the same time. That is why sometimes, while your body would still need its rest, your mind keeps screaming at you to wake up, move, do something, and you find yourself tossing and turning in your bed at an ungodly hour, trying to tell it to just keep quiet, for the love of everything good. Of course, to no avail.
Damian put his pillow down to his side again with the smallest of growls, the one he had squeezed against his frowning face for a reason beyond him. He sat up in his bed with a sigh, wide-awake, and he turned to just stare out his window for a couple of seconds, absentmindedly watching dark silhouettes of leaves waving towards him in the light of the moon. The trail of pale light fell onto the smooth, polished surface of his dear piano just next to the windowsill, almost as if inviting him closer to stroke his hand over the cool wood and take a whiff of its antique scent.
He let out a breath. Nothing better than a late-night rendezvous with his favorite instrument against the sleepless nights, as per usual.
Thus, he heeded the silent call and stood up, his naked feet tickled by the soft carpet. However, he didn’t forget to fist take a couple of seconds to peek out his door, to check if Michael was still up and working. Seeing the yellow light of the other man’s lamp still make a trail on the floor in front of their rooms, he nodded quietly to himself, then turned to walk back to his window and piano to take a seat on the lengthy bench in front.
The moonlight shifted as he opened the lacquered lid to reveal the keys, which greeted him with a vibrant, toothy smile. He carefully placed his fingers upon them, just regarding the faint contrast of his skin against them, before he gently pushed down one under his right index finger, followed by that beneath his ring finger. He didn’t have any clear thought on what he would want to play. He was only searching, listening to the tunes he evoked almost instinctively, observed the shadows moving along the row of keys the more he upset their calm balance. After a bit of improvisation, the melody he must have looked for subconsciously slowly began to unfold, tenderly filling the room with its sweet-bitter sounds.
Damian silently took notice of his door creaking open just a little bit more, and of hesitant footsteps entering the room. His hands, however, kept moving over the old piano’s keys, note for note, perfectly undisturbed. He was long used to being watched or listened to, being an actor by profession. Besides, he was certain Michael would make a sad face if he stopped mid-song.
Pushing down the finishing tunes, he glanced over to his sleepy lover who had just taken a seat next to him on the bench, enveloped in his blanket.
“You can’t sleep, either, can you…?” Damian gave the younger man a warm smile, raising his hand to stroke some of his lover’s messy hair from his face.
“Nn…” Michael gave a small nod, closing his eyes to the touch.
The actor couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, as he trailed a few more caresses along the bespectacled man’s hair and his arm peeking out from the blanket. The writer was so adorable when he was sleepy. He probably didn’t even notice the small, happy sounds he was emitting.
Though when Michael opened his eyes to look at him again, Damian took that as a small plea for him to continue playing the piano, so with one last little stroke, he hovered his fingers over the shiny keys once again. He slowly, gently pushed some of them down, another melody coming to mind as the sounds rang between the four walls. He even remembered the words for the song, a track he fell in love with years ago, when he went to see a certain movie, and the urge to let them rise from his throat was just too strong.
Realign… all the stars…
Above my head
Warning signs travel far
I drink instead on my own
Oh! how I’ve known…
the battle scars and worn out beds…
Gentle now, a tender breeze blows
whispers through… a Gran Torino
whistling another tired song…
Engines hum and bitter dreams grow
heart locked in a Gran Torino
it beats a lonely rhythm…
all night long…
Michael was just sitting there, listening to his lover’s voice melt together with the gentle melody of the piano; watching the performer’s lashes flutter as the music seeped into his heart and soul, following his fingers dancing over the keys. He felt himself move with the song, lulled by it into a warm kind of calm as his mind silently began to piece together half-dreamed pictures before his eyes.
Your world is nothing more than all the tiny things you’ve left behind…
Shortly before the end of the song, Damian could feel a messy head of hair lean against his shoulder, slow breathing tickling his skin through his thin shirt. He let the last few notes resound in the quiet of the night, giving the melody a well and proper finish. Then his hands tended to a different kind of activity, though no less tender and loving as playing the piano, if not more so: he carefully took the snoozing Michael into his arms to carry him over to the bed, still humming with the song silently as he gently lay him down.
Then, in a couple more minutes, the faint melody faded in the air completely, and gave its place over to the quiet symphony of the two lovers breathing under the covers.