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“Are you both okay?” he inquires.
I glance back at Cato to see him nodding along to something a monster is saying to him, but his eyes are on us and he wears a frown on his face. “Are you okay?” he mouths.
I smile. “Fine.” I turn back to his brother. “We will be.”
He nods again, and my stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me I haven’t eaten recently. His eyebrows rise before he laughs. “Humans are funny.” He takes what looks to be some form of bread or pastry and hands it over to me.
I dare not tell him I’ll wait for Cato, not when he’s being kind, so I accept it and take a bite. I chew with a cringe. It tastes like stale crisps.
He chuckles at my expression. “You get used to it. It’s good for healing and health.”
Despite the fact that it’s like chomping on cardboard, I swallow it. My stomach does feel better, and I seem to have more energy as well, so I smile. “Thank you.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, and I lean in with a wicked grin. “So now that we are friends, want to tell me all the funny stories from when Cato was a kid?”
He throws his head back with a laugh, and I join in, glancing over to see Cato smiling so wide, his face might break, and my heart fills with so much happiness, I don’t know what to do with it.
* * *
“Where are we going?” I giggle, letting him tug me after him.
“You’ll see,” is all he will say as he leads me through the city. We arrive in front of a building that’s standing, but that doesn’t mean anything. We go through an open side door, and dust and dirt follow us in, but the farther we go down the corridor, the cleaner it becomes as we wind through half ruined back areas before we cross a huge black curtain. It’s dark at first, but then lights suddenly flicker on, and I turn to see Cato at a switch. Turning forward, I step out onto a wooden stage and gasp.
A stage! I’m on a stage at a theatre!
There are seats and stands to the left, curling around the stage, with boxes up top. Some are crumbling, but it’s still beautiful. The filigree decorations are gold and red to match the seats, and the stage is dark hardwood.
In the middle is a piano.
Not just any piano, but a gleaming black Yamaha GB1 Grand Piano, just like the one my mum had.
“Cato.” I stare at the piano on the stage, swallowing as he steps before me.
“I know you miss playing, and I know you miss your parents and that it hurt to play after, but I thought if we played together, it might not hurt as much.” He holds out his hand, a slight tremor in it. How could I not lay my hand in his? He leads me over the bench and sits down, trying not to break it as I grin. Lifting the lid, I run my hands nervously over the keys. “I haven’t played in a long time, I’m probably terrible.”
“So we can both be.” His hands smash the keys, making a horrific noise, and a laugh bursts out of me. He always knows what to say to make me feel better. Turning back, I start to run through random songs, and he joins in. It sounds terrible, and it makes me giggle, but then I find my feet with it again, my fingers flying across the keys with sure movements born from years of practice.
The music consumes me, and I don’t even realise he’s not playing anymore. I’m alone on the bench, my eyes closing as I play the song my mum wrote. The music whisks me away, and I recall the feel of her warmth next to me as her hands dance across my own as she smiles at me.
Pure happiness swells within me, and when the last note fades, I open my eyes and glance up at Cato. “Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you for giving me my mum back.”
“Always. Can you teach me?”
The words echo the ones I asked my mum as a kid, and I swallow as my past and present collide. She would love him, I think to myself, monster or not. I pat the bench, and just like my mum did, I start to teach him, carrying on her memory through him.
Through us.
He’s a quick learner, and despite his huge size, he’s delicate with the keys. When he does well, he looks at me proudly, and I fall completely and utterly in love with him harder than before. He sees my expression and leans in.
Cupping my cheeks, he kisses me softly. “Remembering the past is good, but so is making new memories to override the sadness.” He grins, and I gasp as he lifts me, pushes down the top, and lays me across it.
“Cato,” I warn, but he ignores me, tugs down my pants, and seals his mouth on my cunt, making me cry out at the sudden attack.
Lifting his head, he grins wickedly at me. “Now that’s music,” he purrs.
“You’re evil—” It ends in a scream when he nips my clit.
“Want to try that one again, mate?” he teases as he grips my thighs and thrusts his tongue inside me. My voice echoes around the stage like music, the keys depressing under our weight, sending out random bursts of song.
