You knew from the first time you met me that my piano was my only friend. I hadn't talked with any human for the last eleven years of my life, not even with my mother. I only whispered silent words to my piano; mouthing them so nobody except my piano could hear; and to no one else. My mom thought that if I had a piano partner, I might start talking again. There's where you got in.
She saw your ad of "Piano Partner" in the newspaper and called you. In the moment you entered my house, I felt something. It was something really weird; I didn't know what it was and yet I already hated it. When mom said that you'd be playing piano with me for a while, I frowned and shook my head, trying to say that I didn't need it. Of course, she didn't listen and you stayed. That first time I couldn't see your eyes because you were looking down slightly and almost half of your hair was covering them, but I saw you as a bad person. I felt that you weren't one of those nice persons you don't find everyday. I didn't want you to be anywhere close to where I was.
The first three days, I just observed you playing my piano while sitting on the stairs. Once in each twenty seconds I felt that you were staring at me and I turned my head around. I heard you smile as you went back to my piano and kept playing. I stopped playing those three days thanks to you. I had never let anyone touch it, not even my relatives, and suddenly you had come and played it as if it were your possession. It was my piano, and you had not only touched it but played it as well. That gave me one more reason to hate you.
One day, you entered to my house and hugged me, murmuring an "I'm sorry." I was confused as to why you'd do and say that, and as if you had read my mind, you replied: "Your mother told me about your father." My eyes widened. I was completely furious. You had no right to know it, and she had no right to tell you. I went to my room and didn't go out for the rest of the day; even if mom had apologized to me at least a thousand times, I refused to see you ever again.
The next week, I remember that mom left to the store, and about two minutes later, I heard the door opening. I doubted that mom had come back so soon, so I went to check it out, and there you were, closing the door behind you. I quickly backed up upstairs and made sure you hadn't seen me at all. I heard you chuckle, and then a melody followed it. A very, very, beautiful melody; it made me grow warm inside and all I wanted to know was what it was. I went down enough stairs to see that the melody came from you, playing the piano. I sat down and listened carefully to it… then I remembered — that my dad used to play that song for me, when I was a lot younger.
When you finished, I walked up to the piano and took a place on the bench only about a meter away from you and turned to see you. Like always, you had your gaze staring down slightly. "I take that you liked it," you said, and then you looked straight into my eyes. That was when I realized that you had extremely gorgeous eyes. I blushed slightly and looked away, and I could hear you chuckling again. "Why do you never talk? You might already be mute." I shook my head, and for the first time in eleven years, I spoke.
"I'm not mute." I didn't actually say it; it was more like a whisper. But they were words, and you should have felt honored for being the first person to hear me talk in eleven years! "I don't like to talk," this time my voice raised. "I think it's a waste of time, and it's helpless." You asked me why, remember? I blushed even more because I hadn't realized that your voice was as gorgeous as your eyes. "Talking can't save a life," I said and then your arms wrapped around me by behind, my blush slowly fading. You murmured in my ear, "It's because of your father's death, isn't it?" I nodded slowly, and I felt your chin resting slightly on my shoulder. You were almost hugging me, or you were hugging me, I don't know, but I felt warm again; like when you played that melody.
"Could you teach me how to play that song?" I asked, lowering my voice once more. "Daddy used to play it for me when I was 6, before he died, but he never taught me how to do so."
"So you already played piano when you were 6? That's awesome," you said, burying your face on my neck, and I blushed. "You know, you should talk more often." I asked you why. "Because your voice is beautiful; I can't believe you kept it to yourself for eleven years." I closed my eyes, trying to ignore how my body vibrated when your breath touched my skin.
"Will you teach me or not?" You chuckled, like always, and nodded softly. Then the keys made that wonderful sound as they were being played under your fingers. I put mine on the keys and then you started telling me which to play, and I just listened to you and did what you told me to. Your voice ringing slowly in my ears, it was an awesome sensation. And on an instant, you put your hand on mine. I blushed and kept playing with the other hand so you wouldn't notice how your touch had affected me so much.
"You learn fast," you said softly, running that same hand that had touched mine through my hair slowly and carefully.
"Don't do that," I said, tears spotting at my eyes. You looked confused then. "Dad used to do that when I played a song right." You apologized and hugged me again. This time I rested my forehead on your chest slightly, afraid of what your reaction might be, but that fear left me as you began to rub my back in circles. You kissed my hair softly and suddenly my heart beat faster. I didn't know what was it, but, remember that I felt something bad from you when you first came? That something became a good something; even though I still didn't know what it was; and I realized that you were one of those nice persons you don't find everyday.
Two days passed with you teaching me how to play the song, and the third day, I did it. I played the whole melody without your fingers helping me. I felt so good with myself, because that way I had something to remember my dad by. If I missed him, now I could play that melody and imagine that he was still there, at my side. When I played it for my mom, I remember that she cried and hugged me; and then you said "I'm so proud of you, I knew you could make it!" You were proud of me and that seemed to make things all right. After thinking this, I realized a big truth. I was in love with you.
I never expected you to return my feelings. I mean, who could be in love with a person like me? I hadn't talked in eleven years and that gave the impression that I wasn't one of those normal 17-years-old guys that were popular or that were like really notorious, either. One way or another, to everyone, I was just a nobody… except to you. You didn't see me like a nobody, you saw me as somebody, and that meant a lot to me. I wished you could know how I felt and maybe, maybe even return it, though I decided that no matter what your feelings were, we would still be friends.
One day, I was up in my room, and I heard your everyday chuckle as you entered my house and sat in the piano's bench. I waited for you to start playing a melody, but the sound never came into my ears. I was worried and went downstairs. I got surprised when I saw you only sitting there, your hand on the keys, but you weren't playing. You noticed my presence and looked at me, smiling weakly, and said "hey there." I sat down next to you, asking if there was something wrong. You shook your head slightly and put a hand on my cheek, caressing it softly.
"There's… There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while…" you said. I blushed when I imagined what you wanted to say, and suddenly, you did, your face mere inches from mine. "I love you," and then you kissed me.
Yeah, you kissed me, just like that. Your lips came down on mine as your fingers on the piano's keys the first time you played it. Just like that. I felt that my mind went blank and my heart stopped beating and beat faster at the same time. I had never felt such a sensation, and it was totally amazing and it was the best thing I had ever felt in my life. I was so distracted that I didn't notice you had wrapped your arms around my waist and were now pulling my body closer to yours. I tried to do the same and my arms encircled your neck.
You slowly pushed me so I was laying down on the piano's bench and I brought you with me. Then I felt your tongue caressing my lips, and I opened my mouth for you to explore it, a chance of which you took full advantage of. I moaned softly as your hands made their way underneath my shirt and up to my chest. At some point I pulled away and said "I love you," or maybe it was you, or maybe I was just imagining it. I held tightly to you… I never wanted to let go of you. Then we pulled apart.
"How long?" I asked. You chuckled like always and smiled kindly at me. "How long have you loved me?" Your hands went up to cup my face in them.
"I don't really know," you answered. "When I first saw you, a very strong feeling grew in my heart. At first, I was unsure about what it was, but then I realized that you had captivated me right from the start." You gave my forehead a small kiss since I was still underneath you. "When you accepted me as your piano partner, I swear that my heart grew full of your warmth. I didn't know if you would return my feelings at all, and yet I wanted you so badly to do so."
"I was afraid of it, too," I told you honestly. "I mean, I was practically mute, and you didn't care for that. And in the moment you started to teach me how to play my dad's song — it meant so much for me, and I'm so glad you did it."
"Still, don't stay quiet for too long again," you softly kissed my lips. "Like I said, you have a very beautiful voice. You were very selfish for not sharing that gorgeous melody with the rest of the world."
"I didn't see the need to talk." You kissed me again.
"I'm sorry," you apologized. "I'm sorry for when your mom told me about your father. I'm sorry for playing your piano without your permission, I'm sorry for-"
"It's no longer my piano," I said. Seeing that you were confused as hell, I said, "Now it's our piano." I pulled you down and kissed you. "Aren't we, after all, piano partners?"