paradisalost | ♬ the pianoman's twenty-first song ♬

[Larry's been feeling like the castle's playing hot and cold with him lately. Things were good, then not so good, then better, then he was kidnapped and...just when he was feeling better...Christmas shows up. He wanted to ignore the whole thing, but the castle isn't making that easy. Especially not with the clothes and the snow and everything.]

[oh, and when he woke up this morning, not only were his clothes different, but his piano was gone.]

[so he's not a happy Larry. And he doesn't want to mix and mingle with people, so late in the evening he will find his way to the music room and take over the piano. First he'll sit there with his journal for a moment]

private.
First snowfall. Sam and I always spent all day outside at first snowfall. Snowmen, snow angels, snowball fights, and breaks between for hot chocolate and Christmas music at the piano...

Christmas isn't Christmas without him.
.private

I'll be happy to have my own clothes back tomorrow, and even more happy when all of this snow melts.

[and he'll slam the journal shut and get back to it in a bit. He doesn't want to broadcast his music right now. So...he'll slowly start to play this, as he thinks about the holiday without his kid. It's sad and if you're passing the music room feel free to overhear or walk in. He'll reopen his journal a little later to respond to anyone who wants to talk to him....but right now, this is him thinking he can get away with playing depressing music alone. Please prove him wrong.]

{backdated to last night}

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[so hesitant. As if he's fully expecting something horrible to happen by taking the initiative and playing more keys. Once he works up the bravery again, and he glances to double-check the man's expression, he reaches out. This time, he tries to mimic what the man did before-- one key, then two keys, then three. He manages to move his hands much like the man had, but it isn't quite on the mark]

[Larry will smile and nod any way. He thinks it's very good for a first try.]

It sounds good. Do you like it?

[he nods quietly. And then, without meeting his eyes, said as mannerly as absolutely possible]

...May I watch you play?

Oh...of course.

[he'll think for a moment, and then....well, why not. It's Christmas...he starts to play 'White Christmas']

[the boy manages to relax a little again, his attention more on the man and his piano than on his own worry. Eyes flicking from one hand to the other, eating up the details of how he's playing, how he's moving his hands and which keys make what notes. As if he can learn how to play by simply watching]

[and when he's done he just sits back and sighs a bit. It weighs heavily on his mind, the Christmas music]

[the boy thinks for a little while, before he notices the man's quiet. He glances over, studies the details of his face without meeting his eyes. When he speaks, it's as an honest curious question]

...Are you sad?

[the boy's words bring him back and he shakes his thoughts off and looks down at him. He forces a small smile]

No. Bittersweet maybe, not sad.

[he blinks a little, thinking. Nope, that's a new one to him]

Bittersweet?

[a nod]

It means....something good that is still a little sad. Maybe because you remember how good it was and you miss it.

[this concept strikes him as strange, difficult to understand, and he lets his eyes fall back to the piano keys. Deep in thought, his brow furrows. Trying to imagine such a feeling, thinking back to something that might fit]

Do you have someone you miss back home? Someone that maybe you love, and...you like to think about them because you love them, but at the same time it makes you a little sad?

[somewhat vacantly] No.

[and then further thought, as if this really a struggle to recall]

...I think I used to have a sister.

Oh.

[isn't sure what to say about that, but nods]

Sisters are good.

[he's not sure either, to be honest]

Are they?

It's what I've heard. I don't know, I don't have one.

♬ the pianoman's twenty-first song ♬

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