His face was calm, unreadable, but his closeness was anything but casual. He leaned slightly forward, his shoulder brushing hers as his long fingers danced over the keys, guiding her stumbling lody into sothing steadier, sothing whole.
Athena swallowed, her throat dry. Her mind scread at her to shift away, to reclaim her space, to stop reacting to him. But her body betrayed her, rooted to the bench as though the weight of his presence had pinned her there.
She hated it. She hated how her chest was betraying her with its sharp, quickened rhythm. She hated how good the music sounded with him there, completing what she had begun. And worst of all, she hated how a part of her didn’t want him to stop.
The piano sang beneath them, their hands brushing once, then twice, lingering longer each ti. She told herself it was coincidence, that it was only the closeness of the bench, but the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips suggested otherwise.
Athena’s fingers slipped, the wrong note jarring against the harmony, and she cursed under her breath.
Azrael didn’t miss a beat. His voice, low enough only for her, murmured, "Relax your hand. You’re forcing it."
She bristled instantly at the instruction, at the audacity in his tone, but when he placed his hand lightly over hers and guided her fingers to the right key, the sound that followed was... perfect.
Her lips parted, though no words ca.
And in that silent, taut mont, surrounded by nothing but the echo of their duet, Athena realized with a sharp, unwelco clarity, he wasn’t just playing the piano with her. He was playing her.
Slowly, delibrately azrael released her hand, and Athena forced herself to unclench her fingers, to let them move freely over the keys the way his voice had instructed. At first, it felt awkward, like giving in. But slowly, she found the rhythm again, the sound smoothing out until the clumsy edges disappeared.
And then, sothing shifted.
Their hands no longer clashed, it blended perfectly together, like they’d been playing this piece their entire lives. His notes rose where hers dipped, her lody swayed where his steadied. The empty music room filled with sothing alive, a harmony so soft and so achingly beautiful that Athena herself felt her lips curve without permission, into a beautiful smile.
It was small at first, then it stretched, lightening her whole face. She didn’t even realize she was smiling until she caught the warmth blooming in her chest.
Azrael noticed.
He noticed everything.
For a second, he forgot to breathe. The sound of the piano blurred into the background because all he could see was her, head slightly bowed, lashes casting faint shadows on her pale cheeks, and that smile. That damn smile. If she’d been beautiful before, now she looked... breathtaking.
Her white hair slipped free from its braid, a few strands tumbling forward with each movent of her head, catching the faint sunlight filtering into the room. It frad her face like silver fire, making her look less like a student at a desk and more like sothing untouchable, sothing celestial. Majestic. Unignorable.
His chest tightened painfully.
Azrael’s fingers faltered once, almost missing the next chord, but he covered it quickly, refusing to let his own reaction shatter the fragile world they’d created at the piano. His throat worked silently, jaw tensing as if he was restraining sothing he didn’t want to feel, sothing he didn’t want her to see.
But the truth was unavoidable, watching her smile made him ache in ways he didn’t have words for.
They kept playing, neither of them daring to stop. What they’re creating is beyond beautiful, the pleasant sound of it could rise the dead.
Athena didn’t glance at him, but she felt him watching. She knew he was watching. Her skin prickled with awareness, and still, she didn’t stop smiling. Maybe she didn’t want to.
Finally, the lody began to descend, its final notes unraveling like a sigh. Their hands slowed, their fingers brushing one last ti across the sa key, and the room fell into silence.
For a mont, neither moved.
The echoes of the piano lingered in the air, wrapping around them, and it felt like the whole room was holding its breath.
Athena slowly let her hands fall into her lap, her chest rising and falling with quiet steadiness. The smile still hovered faintly on her lips, though she tried to press it back, as though embarrassed she’d let it slip in the first place.
Azrael, however, hadn’t looked away once. His gaze was pinned to her, sharp and unwavering, as if he was morizing every detail of what he had just witnessed.
The smile.
The silver hair spilling across her face. Those hair that felt too fragile for this world.
Sothing about, the way she lips curved into a genuine but shy smile, stirred sothing he didn’t want to admit in his chest.
Then, without turning her head, she said softly, "...Thanks."
Azrael tilted his head, his gaze narrowing on her profile. "For what?"
He didn’t know why she was thanking him. They both played it and they both made it beautiful. Their fingers had moved, blended into perfection.
She finally looked at him, eting those piercing ocean-blue eyes. "For playing with ," she replied, her voice steadier this ti. "It’s been... a while."
Her honesty surprised even herself. She wasn’t the type to hand out gratitude easily, not when it made her feel exposed. But the lody they’d shared had pulled it out of her before she could lock it away.
Azrael didn’t move at first. His stare was heavy, searching, as if her words ant more than they should. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, one corner of his mouth twitched not quite a smile, but sothing close, sothing dangerously close.
"You needed it," he murmured, voice low, carrying a weight that sank deeper than the simple words.
Athena blinked. "And you know that how?"
How did he know she needed it, she hadn’t rember ever telling him that.
Azrael leaned in slightly, not enough to touch, but enough that the air between them tightened. His eyes flicked briefly to the strand of white hair falling over her cheek before locking onto her gaze again. "Because I could hear it."
She frowned. "Hear what?"
"The way your fingers hesitated on the keys," he said, his tone asured, deliberate. "Like soone who’s been carrying silence for too long."
Her chest constricted, her throat drying. She hated how close his words ca to the truth, how easily he’d stripped it bare. Athena tried to scoff, to pull back into her armor. "You sound awfully poetic for soone who barely talks."
Azrael’s lips curved not in humor, but in sothing sharper. "Maybe you just don’t listen enough."
Know, he’s flirting.
Her pulse jumped, but she masked it with a roll of her eyes, forcing herself to look away. Still, her thank you hung in the air, caught between them, heavier now that he’d twisted it into sothing else entirely.
Athena rose from the piano bench, her fingers brushing the smooth edge of the instrunt again as if reluctant to break contact. She wasn’t angry, not at all, just restless, her body urging her to create distance from the way his presence pressed on her.
She has Oliver after all.
Azrael straighted up, eyes never straying from hers. His stillness made her movent feel louder than it was.
"You always stare like that?" Athena asked, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her skirt she knew wasn’t there, her tone airy, almost playful, though her pulse betrayed her.
Azrael’s lips curved faintly. "Only when sothing’s worth staring at."
Her brow arched, a smirk tugging at her mouth though she tried to disguise it. "Careful. People might mistake that for flirting."
"Let them." His answer was smooth, effortless, no hesitation in it.
Athena froze for half a second, her chest tightening. The words landed heavier than she wanted them to. "You talk like you don’t care what anyone thinks," she managed, tilting her chin in order to et his gaze.
"I don’t." His voice dropped, steady, unwavering. "Do you?"
That pierced deeper than she expected. Her lips parted, but no sound ca. She looked away instead, pacing a few steps toward the side, letting her hair slide forward to shield her expression. "You’re impossible," she muttered, though the heat in her voice wasn’t anger.
Azrael leaned forward, resting one hand lightly on the piano, his eyes tracking her every move. "And yet you’re still standing right here."
Athena stilled, her back half-turned. She should’ve walked further, should’ve put the room between them. But her feet disobeyed, anchoring her in place.
Finally, she inhaled, steadying herself. "Don’t read too much into it."
Azrael’s chuckle was soft, low, the kind that made the air feel heavier. "Too late, darling."
Athena’s pulse jumped, and despite herself, a small, unwilling smile flickered across her face.
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