Beautiful Music

He sat behind the piano, eyes closed, letting his fingers run across the keys. The notes hung in the air, magnified by the empty room, reverberating off the walls. The piano was in the middle of the room, the walls painted white. One wall was a window, looking out onto the garden. The garden was currently bathed in night, the moon providing the weak light.

The door opened and his eyes flicked open before his head spun around to see who had dared intrude in on his private moment. He couldn’t see the trespasser and the door closed silently.

He lingered, staring at the door for a second, the music frozen temporarily in the air before he snapped around back to his piano.

He put his fingers back to the keys and the music became harsh. It increased in tempo, getting faster and faster, more aggressive as he hammered out his song. Suddenly, the music dropped in volume dramatically, becoming soft and quiet. The notes were sweet and heartfelt in comparison like he’d taken months thinking of how to play the piece.

Then, the music came to an abrupt halt and as if electrocuted, his hands came off the piano and he put his head in his hands, leaning on the edge of the piano. He slid elegantly off the piano stool, and came to rest his head against the smooth wood of the piano. He closed his eyes again and fell softly into a dreamless sleep.

He awoke early next morning, cricking his neck from the cramps. He pushed himself backwards, moving the piano stool back and rising up. He walked swiftly from the room into a room across the hall. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror when he passed it, before pausing in front of a large wardrobe.

He changed out of his clothes from the night before, hastily pulling on a pair of black jeans, a scruffy old ‘Billy Talent’ shirt and a pair of black all stars. He walked over to the dresser to put his thick black-rimmed glasses on his nose.

He slouched down the stairs and out the door, the whole time his tune was playing quietly in his mind. He never stopped thinking about the music and the way it all fitted together until…

He stepped up the stairs of the school bus, looking down at his feet, shuffling to his seat when he saw her. The brown haired, black-eyed girl. Her pale complexion tinted with ruby red lips. The girl his music was written for.

She’d been on his mind for months; he never stopped thinking about her. He dreamt about her, he thought about her, he listened to her and he saw her. She made him feel aggressive; he could never be enough for someone like her. She made him feel soft and sweet; his heart fluttered at the very mention of her name.

That night was the talent show in the town. The town where he lived was small and close-knit and everybody knew everybody. Therefore, he could guarantee she would be there and she would hear his music. His symphony written about her.

School passed him by in a blur. He glimpsed her face twice throughout the day and nothing of consequence happened. Once she smiled in his direction, and he felt his eyes light up with surprise and joy.

He rushed home when the last bell rang to get his music sheets already. He played the song fully one last time, as the night before was the night it had finally been completed. When everything was ready, he went to his bedroom to take a shower and freshen up. He ran his hands through his wet, sandy hair and shook his head like a dog to get rid of some of the water. The result was messy on his head but he didn’t mind.

He pulled on a fresh pair of black jeans, his black all stars and a white shirt before completing the look with a black blazer and his glasses. He had to look good, even if she never noticed. When tonight was over, she would know. After all, the title of his piece was her name.

He went down the stairs and his dad complemented him on his look. “You’ve never looked so dashing. Special lady in your life that I should know about?” His father joked. He just shrugged.

They went together in the car to the town hall. He went backstage with all the other performers to wait for his turn to take the stage. Jugglers, magicians, singers, dancers, actors and many more talents passed his eyes that night until it was time.

“Our next performer is Benjamin Johnson with his handwritten piano piece “Belle”. Who knew we would had so many talented people in this small town!” A loud voice boomed over the intercom on the wall.

Ben walked out onto the stage to see a white grand piano waiting. He placed the music scores on the stand, sat on the bench before resting his fingers on the keys. He closed his eyes and began to play.

The room fell silent. Everybody was captivated by the music. The notes hung in the air, just like they had back at Ben’s home. The change of tone was easily heard; the loud, aggressive notes were short and sharp whilst the slower, calm, sweeter notes were flowing.

Belle sat in the audience, her eyes wide, staring at Ben. She listened more intently than everyone else. She could hear herself in his piece but not the way he’d intended. She could hear her frustration that she’d never been able to tell him how she felt about him, or even talk to him. She could hear his sweet, subtle compliments his eyes always gave her, whenever she looked his way or whenever he talked to her.

She looked at the way he played the piece and knew how he felt about her and she didn’t doubt it. She knew she had to talk to him.

When the music ended, Ben rose from the stool to tumultuous applause. He bowed and exited stage left. He walked to the performers dressing room, and sat down in a chair with a creak. Then, he heard a soft knocking sound at the door.

“Come in.” He responded to its sound.

“Ben, it’s me. Belle.” Like he didn’t know. He had memorised her voice. She walked into the room, but hung back by the door. “I really loved your piano piece. It was beautiful.”

“I hoped you’d be here.” He walked over to her but stood a bit away, giving them space. “I wrote it for you. Belle, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“I understand. Listen, Ben, I like you. I really do. I always have if I’m being honest with myself. I just didn’t see it until tonight. Your piece made me see how you felt for me, and I realised that I returned those feelings because it’s true. I do really like you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you to your face. I’m sorry I didn’t come out with it before and you had to wait till tonight to hear it. I’m sorry that I didn’t say it with words but it came out with music.” He walked closer to her and she put her arms around his waist, surprising him completely. She turned her head up to look him in the eyes. They stood there for a minute, not making a sound, letting their eyes talk first, before Belle broke the silence.

“You don’t need to be sorry. The words would eventually fade, but your music will live on forever. It is written down for everyone to see and I will always know and I have a constant reminder. It’s beautiful and so, might I add, are you.”

“But Belle, then there is you. Beautiful doesn’t even describe you. It might describe the music but the girl behind it, well she is so much more.” He tipped his head down and kissed her softly on the lips, revelling in the delicious moment he’d dreamed about for years.

---

Author's Note: This is one of the better oneshots I think I've ever written. I wrote it in about 30 minutes (so typos, grammar, you have been warned!)

Reviews are sincerely appreciated because I want to improve it as I love what I've written and therefore, I will definitely be open to changes. :D
Thank you for reading and reviewing (if you do)

BTW: Please resist the urge to flame. If you hate the story and have nothing nice to say (Because critiques happen if you intend to help me improve something you may already like a little) then say nothing and read something else. Thank you.