Paige and Jono Piano Log

[x-foliate.livejournal.com]

Set way far away ago. Before Mexico. Last weekish.

There'd been enough Grand Theft Auto to make Jono's thumbs sore. He'd tried Vice City as well, but since he couldn't remember enough of the eighties, the humour of it was lost to him. He'd played Soul Calibur 2 instead, dedicating his night to unlocking all the extra characters. It had been a nice, brainless activity after returning from the Medlab where Logan had been scary in his unscariness. Jono was glad he didn't need to sleep if he chose not to, he'd probably have had nightmares.

Guilt was also a prominent figure in his inner landscape right now, between the anger and the depression. He'd almost lost count of how many things he felt guilty over, and figured it probably meant he should be doing something to fix the matters. Possibly the first step was to never play poker again, and preferably forget the game even existed. Things with Sarah had reached their status quo again, but the previous night's game while hiding from the camera crew had been one of the most uncomfortable things ever in his life. Not much helped by Angelo's presence.

Jono stopped in the middle of the corridor, on his way to the music room, and tried to count all the people he needed to apologize to. Then he shook his head and continued on his way. It didn't do much good to mull over things. At least the things he could do little about, such as Emma's disappearance. If he had faith in someone to bring her back, it was Pete.

Outside the music room, he paused to contemplate the frantic sounds of someone playing the piano. It sounded like something he probably shouldn't interrupt, but with a humourless shrug he entered nonetheless. When had he really bothered with things he should and shouldn't do? Besides, there were some notes in the room that he wanted.

Paige.

Of course it was her.

Avoiding people never seemed to work in the mansion.

"I didn't know you could play the piano," the thought was out of Jono's head before he could stop it, and he closed the door with a decisive click. Maybe this was a guilt he could alleviate.

The runs that had been pinging around the acoustics of the music room slowed to eighth notes, to quarter and settled on half. Simple enough chords, but long and dark and interspersed with just enough minor to make the muscles in Paige’s neck tense. She was pleased with herself at her reaction, the lack of jumping and whipping about at his words replaced with a slow glance over her shoulder and no halt in her playing. “I can. I just do not.” Except when the world tumbles down around me and there’s nothing else left…

There was a simple enough reply to that. "Why?" Jono asked, as casually as he could, hands worming into the back pockets of his trousers. He could hear the echo of the words Paige had left out, but couldn't make any sense of them.

“My father taught me to play,” she replies, simple words with even more undertones than the piece she is currently playing. It’s by Chopin, fitting in that’s whom she began with, who her father always preferred, and the switch from minor to a loud power chord makes her heart wrench.

That wasn't quite the reply Jono was expecting, although he can't say what he had actually expected. "Other than the piano-playing, which you don't do," he finally hazarded, "how are you?"

The playing quickens a little, slipping into something that’s started to sound a little like the speeding up of her heart before slowing down again. “As well as can be expected,” she said quietly, barely heard over the chords. You know… considering I’ve lost my friend, my roommate and you all within the course of a week. It’s just great. Paige smiled a little, lifting her shoulders with as little enthusiasm that went into her attempt at mirth.

And there was the echo-y feeling of thoughts that Jono couldn't quite make out again. He didn't like the feeling too much, so he moved distractedly towards a window and peered out. He remembered the notes he'd come to pick up, but they had become a lower priority. "I'm sorry", he said suddenly, turning back to face the room, silhouetted against the window.

Paige watched him for a moment before her neck started to hurt and settled for having him in the corner of her eye. It was easier that way anyway; her neck wasn’t the only thing in pain. “For what? You had every right.” Paige stared at the sparkle of her silver nails on the keys carefully.

He studied her for a moment, regretful and quiet. "Oh, come now," he snorted then, or what passed for that with him. "I overreacted and I'm sorry."

“Which part? The punching, the vicious comments or the hiding in the basement for days? Or the other part, that we’re all very good at not talking about?” Paige replies with surprisingly little malice. “It’s fine, Jono. I would have done much the same thing had I been within arms length of you. The testosterone ridded things I mean, not the taking off of my clothes.”

"That was just a game," Jono shrugged, then looked down at the floor, knowing he'd probably said the exact wrong thing. "Well," he amended, " I suppose I wasn't thinking. Something that seems to happen to all of us from time to time." The last bit came out a bit more pointed than he had meant.

Paige’s hand slipped, a crunch of notes that accented her already on edge teeth. “Yes, of course. It just makes me wonder what isn’t just a game to you, that’s all.” So much for lack of bite, her voice was coated in a thin layer of frost that cracked much like her knuckles as she stretched out her fingers.

At this point, Jono knew, everything he said would be under suspicion, so he settled for a non-committal, "Oh." Then he strode across the room to pick up the notes he wanted, flipping through the pages. "You might have to stick around to see."

It’s Paige’s turn to snort now, snatching her hands away from the keys to spin around on the bench. “Why Jono? So you can throw in my face that obviously I mean nothing to you? You give me just enough to keep me interested and I take them as deeper feelings and we part with loving words and vague understandings. But they’re always my loving words and your vague understandings, aren’t they?” Paige caught herself in her rant and sighed, leaning back, as if suddenly exhausted. Her elbows rested on the piano keys with a clang, neck arching so that she looked at the ceiling. “It’s no one’s fault. You made no promises and I made no demands.”

Then where's the problem? Jono wanted to ask, but these were words he kept to himself, and instead fixed Paige with a long look, notes quite forgotten in his hands now. He couldn't understand what he'd done to deserve her love, couldn't really fathom any of the things he'd been offered after moving to this grand mansion and school when all the time he'd turned away from them. "I still can't make any promises," he ventured finally, half to himself. "And you should save your loving words to someone who knows what to do with them." It pained him to say that suddenly, and he would have laughed if he could have, knowing it was heartache for a heartless person. He ducked his head, not able to look at her anymore.

“I’m sorry, Jonothan. I just… I guess I thought we had more than what you do. I shouldn’t have assumed like that, put you in that position. I’ll let you make your own decisions in the future. I, however, will not let you make my decisions for me either. So whether you like it or not, I still love you.” Paige paused, slowly raising her head up to see him fully. “Come here,” she said suddenly, stretching out a hand to him, before she could think about how she’d promised herself to be strong against him. Paige knew it wasn’t one of her more brilliant plans but she just wanted… well. Wanted things she couldn’t have it seemed.

Jono shifted on his feet first, then slowly walked up to Paige, and took her hand, intertwining their fingers. "You know, you're the only person who ever calls me Jonothan," he said, completely serious. "I don't know if I like it, but at least it gets my attention every time."

Paige couldn't help but smile a little from the corner of her mouth. She didn't pull him forward, or stand to meet him, just let their hands rest between them. "I'll keep that in mind. Power abuse and all that."

"Control freak," Jono accused her softly, his eyes on their hands.

“Not denying it.” Chuckling, Paige absently ran a thumb over his knuckles before realizing what she was doing. She tried not to sigh, keeping herself still. “And you only know the half of it.”

"What's the other half?" Jono asked automatically, lifting his gaze to her face. The rolled up notes in his other hand tapped an erratic rhythm against his thigh.

Paige tsked, looking so very amused at the predicaments the two of them managed to get themselves into. “Perhaps when you give me a reason to stay you’ll get to know, hm?”

He thought about it a moment, then shrugged, slipping his hand out of hers. "Fair enough," he conceded.

Pulling the suddenly cold hand to her, Paige crossed her arms and laughed. “Well. I think that’s the first time we’ve agreed in a while, if not grudgingly.”

"Better than nothing," Jono said philosophically, eyes crinkling a little. His words were accented again by the soft tap-tap of the notes against his leg.

“You’re antsy,” she observed, idly. “I won’t keep you if you want to leave, hea- Jono.”

After a pause, he nodded. "I probably should." Then he tilted his head questioningly. "Unless you'd consider playing something more."

She stared at him for a long moment, whether pondering or shocked into silence unsure, before finally clearing her throat to reply. “Music is not something we agree on, but I… I think I would. If you’d like.” Paige smiled a little, as if this was rather stunning.

"Room enough for two on that?" Jono gestured at the bench, raising his eyebrows. They might not agree on music very much, but he would have been lying to himself if he'd said there was no pleasure in watching Paige play.

Crooking her finger Paige grinned up at him. “Of course. Although, I do warn you, I use the pedals.” No one could ever accuse her of being impolite. She turned, blowing on her fingers to warm them up.

Jono sat carefully next to her, keeping a slight distance. "I'll keep my feet out of the way," he promised, completely serious.

“Any requests?” she asked, not quite as seriously, as she shook out her hands and laid them on the keys, warming up to them with a few chords.

"Just play whatever you want," Jono set his palms flat against the bench, hunching his shoulders a bit. He looked at Paige from the corner of his eyes.

Paige nodded, her eyes closing for a moment as she took a deep breath in. When they had opened, she was playing; gentle almost loving chords that contrasted like the black to white keys from her previous selection. It sounded vaguely familiar, like something he had heard, but couldn’t possibly of. Most things about Paige were like that.

Comments

[x-marrow.livejournal.com]

<3

[x-shinobi.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry, but Sarah posting "<3" has got to be THE most disconcerting thing I've seen in a very long time.

I have to agree, though. <3

[x-marrow.livejournal.com]

Just wait. There are worse. How's this comment?

The testosterone ridded things I mean, not the taking off of my clothes.

Prude.

[x-shinobi.livejournal.com]

She's just sad she wasn't invited to the strip poker game, I bet.

[x-foliate.livejournal.com]

Yes, what Shinobi-mun said. Clearly Paige is just disappointed at not being invited.

Clearly.

(because remember, Jono doesn't know the half of it)

(<3)