taking a joke. (drabble)
Series: Ace Attorney
Rating: G
Characters: Phoenix Wright
Summary Life is a bitch.
Author's note: None.
His fingers slid across the keys with an air of unpredictability; he didn't know where they were pressing, and he didn't know which way the direction of the music wanted to flow. That was how he practiced, listening to the keys, listening to his fingers fumble without any real direction. He could hear in his heart whether or not the notes were wrong, and sometimes-- sometimes he could play something completely made up from the realms of his own head, and it would match every feeling he had, and to his own ears, it was his own masterpiece.
It wouldn't be music-- not to anyone else. It was his, a moment for his own, the keys pressing together with the music in his heart, the keys matching the times of sorrow and the times of fulfillment.
But when the music ended, when his fingers stopped and pulled away, when the sounds of life fell away from the piano and the room went back to it's silent indifference; that was when he literally felt the silence. He could feel it like a presence, breathing on his neck, sneering at him from the sidelines-- hand in hand with time, and they mocked him from the corners of his own memory. But he could take a joke.
Even if he was at the center of it.
Rating: G
Characters: Phoenix Wright
Summary Life is a bitch.
Author's note: None.
His fingers slid across the keys with an air of unpredictability; he didn't know where they were pressing, and he didn't know which way the direction of the music wanted to flow. That was how he practiced, listening to the keys, listening to his fingers fumble without any real direction. He could hear in his heart whether or not the notes were wrong, and sometimes-- sometimes he could play something completely made up from the realms of his own head, and it would match every feeling he had, and to his own ears, it was his own masterpiece.
It wouldn't be music-- not to anyone else. It was his, a moment for his own, the keys pressing together with the music in his heart, the keys matching the times of sorrow and the times of fulfillment.
But when the music ended, when his fingers stopped and pulled away, when the sounds of life fell away from the piano and the room went back to it's silent indifference; that was when he literally felt the silence. He could feel it like a presence, breathing on his neck, sneering at him from the sidelines-- hand in hand with time, and they mocked him from the corners of his own memory. But he could take a joke.
Even if he was at the center of it.