Archive of Our Own ^beta

It is somehow a fact of life that if there is a college library, there will be a piano. They may range from a new baby grand to a beat up upright, but there will be one. It could be the main feature in the lobby for all the student body to see, and every once in awhile a brave soul will play it for a crowd that is more coffee than person.

Or, in the case of Columbia, it was an old studio piano deep in the stacks where few ventured. It was battered and scraped, having been moved a lot in its life. The C8 key was missing, but the ivory and ebony of those remaining were sturdy. They stuck sometimes, and the pedals worked when they wanted to, but it still breathed music with excitement whenever it was touched.

Matt would get this look on his face sometimes. He’d be studying (because that was all he did despite Foggy’s efforts) and his brow would pinch, mouth turned down, and neck tense. It was different from his frustrated face don’t ask him how he knows the difference Foggy is trying to deny how much he stares at his roommate. When this face made it’s appearance, it was time to go to the library.

“C’mon, we can study there and not have the background music from next door,” he tempted.

Matt sighed, nodding and packing up.

They made their way across campus in the early evening, Matt’s hand in Foggy’s arm. While Matt couldn’t see how nice the school looked at this time with all its lights and sprawling lawns, Fog made sure to describe everything to him. It eased the look on his face somewhat.

Being the guide, Foggy easily led them to the stacks, down a few floors, near the back. Matt scoffed.

“Judging by the dusty smell of the seventies, I know where you’ve taken me.”

“You love the old book smell don’t lie. And it’s quieter down here.”

They came to the piano, standing proudly with its old wooden bench and clawed feet.

“We should be studying.”

“Just one song Matty, then we can study to our heart’s content.”

Matt sighed, but it didn’t take long for him to put his bag down and take a seat, fingers brushing against the white (more yellow) keys. Foggy sat right beside him, bumping shoulders.

Because of the closed space, the sound didn’t echo as much. It didn’t stop the notes of Ave Maria from vibrating through Foggy. While it wasn’t the smoothest performance, with some sour notes, by the end of it, the look on Matt’s face was gone, and Foggy was that much more smitten.

“…One more?” he asked.

Matt smiled, reaching over to squeeze Foggy’s hand, before returning to the keys.