Archive of Our Own ^beta

As the alluring melody of the serenade reached Linzer's ears, she felt the bittersweet memories of the feeling of redamancy seep through each note— a feeling she knew so well, yet she didn't know whether she'd feel it again... She felt it once, but that was a long time ago.

The past came pouring into her mind, like one collective flashback... highlights that, even though they seemed like small moments, she would die to experience them again. There were once songs dedicated to her, and she once had someone to dedicate her work to. She once had someone who would borrow books from her, just for the books in question to be returned with extra annotations and a note inside. She once had someone to spend every second with, either in silence or in deep conversation. She once had someone to love... and someone to love her back. 

She opened her eyes that she didn't even realise were closed, as the wistful music was replaced with the loud roar of applause— The concert had ended. She felt herself smile as she watched Crème Brûlée bow in front of the audience... Even just the feeling of her muscles doing it gives her deja vu... She was making that proud, admiring smile that she reserved for him.

She headed backstage after that. Her hands trembled with anticipation as she held a bouquet close to her... She had done this before— plenty of times, actually. So why should she be so nervous...?

She got startled when she felt someone's presence behind her— her nerves calmed down when she saw that it was just Crème Brûlée, looking as startled as she was. 

"Linzer," said he, blush rushing to his pale cheeks. "You came."

"Of course. You invited me." She handed him the bouquet. "Your performance was enthralling, by the way... However, I can't say I'm surprised. What else would I expect from you...?"

He took the bouquet from her warm, rosy hands and held it closely. "Thank you. I... thought I saw you amongst the audience, and I felt a bit hopeful."

"Crème Brûlée? Looking at the audience? Getting hopeful...?" She chuckled, making him blush even more. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, but knowing you well... Something must be up. Am I right?"

"Oh, always so perceptive, Miss Linzer..." he sighed. "It must be so obvious to you that I've been thinking of you lately, huh...? That clever mind of yours..."

She gave him a smile. "Thank you... Now, what do you say about dinner?"

"At that same old place...?"

"Where else?"

On the way there, they just drowned in conversation— it seemed that the only things that mattered were what each other was saying, reminiscing about the old times. Walking to the restaurant felt like a mindless thing that they've memorised to do over the course of time. One moment, they were backstage. Then, they were sitting at their usual booth by the window. Then, they were interrupted by the waiter; they had to order. 

But once the waiter left, the booth went silent. Although between the two, the silence was quite comforting. It always was when they're together. 

Linzer remembered the times when they'd just sit together in the living room in silence, either minding their own businesses or simply sitting there, basking in each other's presence. Or on times like these, when they're in this restaurant, in this same booth, watching cookies walk by and making suppositions about them. 

"Always so perceptive..." whispered Crème Brûlée, as if responding to her thoughts. He had a plaintive look in his precious, honey-brown eyes... and a sense of hesitation in his overall demeanour. 

Everything else was so silent after that. Their meal, their walk to Linzer's apartment.

The night had turned late, and it had just rained. The only sounds emitted between the two were their footsteps— squishing on the wet pavement, splashing on the puddles, and squeaking on the wooden tiles. 

They finally stopped by Linzer's doorstep... and even though she put the key in, they stayed there for a while. Maybe ages. Time had become confusing in each other's presence... It was only them, each other, and the past they shared that still haunts them both, with the fact that they will never relive it again. 

"I was assuming that you would bid me good night and come inside," said he, breaking the silence at last. 

"Well... I felt that you were hesitating," replied she. "Do you want to say something?"

"...This night just... wasn't how I imagined it would be."

"So you're not satisfied with the plot...? Did you want more to happen?"

She could feel his breath shake a bit. His hand, still holding onto the bouquet, was trembling. "Yes..." he finally answered, his voice almost a whisper. 

"Then tell me... what did you want?" she asked— she may or may not have started getting hopeful for what he was about to say. 

"I..." he began, sighing shakily... He stared at her intently. "I was hoping that... our conversation would be more meaningful— more romantic, somehow. I wanted to say something romantic. But of course... I'm not as eloquent as you are." 

She felt that smile spread across her face. She blushed and looked down for a bit... "If you say so, then... I might know a way to make our time more romantic. And it doesn't involve words." 

The next thing that happened was... a blur. They've been blinded; intoxicated by the moment, and the feelings that rushed through them. Those feelings, in question: It was a wordy explanation of an assortment of feelings— an amorous fervour that makes your heart rush rapidly and shakes your breath with every inhale. It was a certain part of a song or composition that you have to pour your entire heart into making it, so it would make the listener feel how you feel— to make them float or stand still, their mouths open, their eyes closed, completely agog... or make them write a whole paragraph about it, describing the indescribable beauty of it. Because that is how the moment felt: A jumble of synonyms of "passionate" and "beautiful", or that particular part of a song that makes you emetic.

Saying that what happened was "a passionate kiss between the two" was an understatement of how they truly felt. 

Then after that intense climax... silence. Static silence. 

They were on the couch now.

The bouquet was discarded on the floor.

The door was slightly ajar. The hallway light seeped inside the living room.

Their warm, shaky breaths were the only sounds against the silence... those breaths mingled together. 

"It's been a long time since we've kissed like that, huh..." mumbled Linzer. She stood up, brushing herself off. "I'm sorry—"

"No, it's fine..." Crème Brûlée tugged at her sleeve. "It was all I ever needed."

She fell silent, her eyes widening. She sat back down beside him. "We kissed... there's no turning back now."

"I don't mind..."

"We separated for the best, you said it yourself. Are you sure?"

"I kept saying that, but no— I lied to myself. It was nothing but a lie. I thought I would focus more on my career. I thought you would focus on yours too, but... no. I was lonely. Linzer, please tell me you feel the same..."

She held his face in her hand... "I have nothing to say except yes."

Their lips met yet again, this time more gently, and it didn't last as long. The pent-up feelings had been let go, and all that's left now is their rekindled affection for each other. 

...

So much things changed since that night... But really, it felt like things were just falling back into place. They were together, and it feels like that's how it should be. There was no turning back now... and perhaps it was for the better.

Their days weren't as lonely and miserable anymore. They spent almost every second together, and each of those seconds was paradise. The silence that once presided in their lives became comforting, and added to the silence were times when they'd talk to each other, hearing each other's voices say amorous things or reminisce about their past that they didn't have to relive, for now, they still have each other in the present. 

This one afternoon, maybe weeks after that, Linzer was tidying up her desk. She'd just finished another novel, and she was about to go to the publisher's. She spotted a book, one that had been missing since... that night. It was Crème Brûlée's favourite, too. She knew she was in a rush, but couldn't help but want to look inside. 

She took a look at the title page: There were a few scribbles in red ink... her scribbles. But there was also a note in black ink... a note in his handwriting.

"I know I already have my own copy. I only borrowed yours to read your annotations. I just wanted to hear your thoughts." 

She smiled at the note... and her smile widened when she saw another note below it— perhaps from when he borrowed it again. 

"Borrowed it again for the same reason. I missed it all. I missed you."

She sighed, setting the book down... then realised that she was running out of time. She immediately grabbed her manuscript and left. 

While running down the stairs, she opened the envelope to skim through her manuscript one last time... The problem was, it didn't contain her manuscript: It contained sheet music.

"Oh, drat..." she grumbled, stopping in her tracks in front of the door. 

All of a sudden, someone bumped into her— Crème Brûlée, holding an envelope himself. 

"Thank the witches it's you!" she chuckled, giving him the envelope that she was holding. "How many times does this have to happen...?"

"I don't know... But I quite like it when it happens..." He handed her the one that he was holding. 

For a moment they were silent...

"So did you check the title?" asked he... There was a tiny hint of a smile on his lips. 

"No," replied she. 

"The piece is dedicated to you."

"Really?"

He tried to hide a smile on his face. "Yes..."

"Well... the book is dedicated to you, if that helps..." said she, her face wearing a smile herself. 

"I know..." 

They stared at each other for a while, just smiling... then blushing and smiling even more as they saw the smiles on each other's faces.

"Now... what do you say about dinner?"

"At that same old place...?"

"Where else?"