Ihold my hands out in front of me as Brandon leads me into our place. He was adamant on only one of us driving into work today despite our opposing hours. But I relented after he woke me up by seeing stars. Yeah. Us living together has been better than expected. We’re now four months post-family fall-out and I don’t see either of our parents coming around to us anytime soon. But Brandon and I? Stronger than ever.
“Is this some new role-play thing you want to try?”
“Ew. Please, make sure that she’s aware when you two aren’t the only ones here,” a voice speaks in front of me.
I yelp at the new voice. “Yeah, a little warning would be great, Ollie Pop.”
“Vetoing that one,” he whispers in my ear and then places his hands on my shoulders to stop me from walking. “Okay. Let me take the blindfold off and on the count of three, open your eyes.”
I nod and then hold still as Brandon unties the fabric.
“Okay, Angel—one, two, three.”
My eyes flutter open and it’s the object at the furthestside of the room that captures my attention. “You didn’t,” I whisper, afraid that if I speak any louder, the piano will disappear.
“I did,” he responds and wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind. “Your voice was taken when your parents kicked you out. And I love hearing you speak.”
My lower lip trembles with emotion. Brandon knows me. He knows me better than my parents ever have. “Thank you,” I tell him as tears trail down my cheeks.
“You’re welcome. Will you play?”
I nod, and Brandon kisses me on the side of my head before releasing me. Tentatively, I walk over to the black baby grand piano. It’s much smaller than the one my parents had, and Brandon must have taken into account the amount of space he had. I would’ve been grateful for an electric keyboard, but he knows me and knows it wouldn’t satisfy me.
I lift the lid and move around to pull the bench out. I run my fingers over the ivory keys before getting settled on the bench and warming up with some scales. If I thought I missed playing when I was down in the depths of my personal hell—when my depression controlled my life, then that’s nothing compared to the last few months.
I play my usual classical pieces before playing the original song that haunted me for weeks with a new added ending, and then finishing up with a piano version of Terrible Love. It perfectly describes my life living with depression and finding someone who accepts that part of me. The song ends, but I keep my foot on the pedal until it fades out to nothing, and I keep my eyes locked on the keys.
“Wow,” someone says behind me, and it’s enough to make me jump.
I take my foot off the pedal and slowly turn around to the living room full of boys with their jaws slack.
“Um, thank you?” I rhetorically say.
“Not that I’m getting married anytime soon,” Carter begins, “but I need you to play at my wedding.”
“Pencil me in for that day,” I tell him, and get up from the bench and go to sit on Brandon’s lap.
“Wow,” Evan, who I’m assuming was the original speaker, says.
“I can teach you some simple songs,” I offer.
“Really?”
I nod and give him a small smile. I’m not sure what I expected when I woke up this morning, but being given a gift that’s more special to me than anything I’ve been given before shows how well I’m known. And being known by the man I’m head over heels for is everything.
It doesn’t take long for the boys to try their hand at awful covers, resulting in laughter so hard my stomach cramps, and when Miles eventually joins us, they lose their shit. I have never seen them so awestruck that it’s incredible that these are the same boys I grew up with. I lay back in Brandon’s arms as Miles regales them with his journey to the professional league and why he pushed so hard to be drafted to Philly.
“Thank you,” I whisper, turning to Brandon. “You didn’t have to get me a piano. I was fine with not getting to play anymore.”
“You’re welcome, Angel. And you may have accepted that you wouldn't get to play as much anymore, but I wasn’t.”
“So you’re saying this gift was more for you?” I ask teasingly as my hands run through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Yes. Especially if after every time you play ends the way it did the first time we were together, then yeah, this gift was for me,” he teases, adding some light back into the moment.
As we hold each other’s stare, the rest of the world fades away. I’d like to think that it can be this easy with Brandon. That the problem with our parents not supporting who we’re dating can smooth out. And that when we tell people how we know each other, they won’t look at us with pity. But the problem with living in the real world is knowing when to throw in the towel. It’s accepting that people will always cast judgment on your past. But it’s you who determines your future.
“What doyou want to do for your birthday?” Brandon asks the next morning while we’re laying in bed. The impromptu piano party lasted well into the evening and early morning, when the sun is now high in the sky.
