"Kyle, this sauce is amazing."

Sitting straight across from me at our little dining table that we hardly ever used, Kyle and of course Dan (who had invited him over for a cozy evening of good food) grinned. "That's what they all say," Kyle replied, giving me a naughty wink over the rim of his wineglass. I laughed.

Both Dan and Kyle shared a passion for food. Dan leaning more towards the baking and brunching, while Kyle served solid meals such as the steak we were currently devouring. He had paired it with his cooked-from-scratch whiskey sauce and green beans I swore were cooked in both butter and margarine. The impending heart attack was definitely worth it.

"Fuck, is this actually what heaven tastes like?" I moaned, eating my steak almost pornographically to Dan's amusement. Kyle chuckled as well and shook his head.

"I'm glad you like it," Kyle sipped the wine again that Dan had bought for this occasion. French, of course. "The trick is in the heat; you gotta slowly simmer the whiskey before you let it cook out. You get that smoked flavor all up in there and then you pour in a bit of the juice from the steak. It's a guaranteed winner."

"Never ever leave us." I groaned as I bit into the steak. "I think I'm finally having an orgasm worth something—a foodgasm."

Dan choked on his wine as he erupted into a laughter. "We're still only on the seventh date, Mel. But hey," He turned to Kyle and leaned in towards him, a small smirk on his lips. "S'not like I'm planning on letting you run off."

Kyle smiled, but I swear I saw him blush. Ah, love. Why couldn't it be that easy for me? Of course I knew it wasn't just magically easy for them. They had problems too, I was sure, problems they didn't show right now. But the ease between them...

"So what's for dessert?" I asked while forking up some green beans, swirling them in the sauce first. "More steak? I swear I won't even complain."

Kyle grinned, but then looked to Dan. "Sorry. I left this one in charge of dessert."

"I made cheesecake," Dan voiced, quickly sipping his wine. "It still needs to chill for another hour, but I'm thinking we need some time to chill after this dinner, too."

"Amen to that," I agreed, cutting through my meat. It was so tender and so perfectly cooked it almost melted in my mouth. Maybe I should just fall in love with this steak if I hadn't already. "It's practically late Thanksgiving up in here."

"Mm!" Kyle said. "In that case, we should light a candle on the table or something. Let's call it Hanukkah."

"You' Jewish?"

"Half."

"In that case, happy Hanukkah."

We all clinked our glasses. After taking a sip, a sudden silence stretched, and not the comfortable kind. I noticed Dan eyeing me out and heard Kyle clear his throat a little, both of them shifting in their seats. I let another moment pass before I finally sighed and put my fork down. "What?"

Dan looked at me, then let out a sigh of his own. "It's probably non of our business, but I feel like it's gotten to a point where I have to ask."

I rose a brow, but waited. "Okay...?" When Dan got serious, it was never good.

"What's your interest in him?" He asked, concern tainting his voice. When I immediately looked down and ran a hand through my hair, he turned towards me and reached out to me. "I'm not gonna police you about it, I just want to know... is it a thank-you to him for saving you that night, or is it like a... charity thing?"

Tony most certainly wasn't a charity thing. Maybe I didn't know why I kept wanting him back and why my soul longed to help him, but charity certainly wasn't my agenda. Dan didn't know about our little bloodied night where I'd helped him, so he didn't know that we in a way were... even. There was a whole third possibility I knew he hadn't voiced for a reason; the same reason being my own for not bringing it up myself.

"I just see potential in him," I diplomatically replied, sipping my wine carefully. When I sat it down again, I licked my lips and found both Dan and Kyle looking at me again. "You guys haven't heard him play yet. If you had, you'd understand."

"Mel, we're not judging you for trying to help him," Dan spoke. "We support you, but we're also concerned friends. You spent weeks searching for him after hearing him play once, and now he comes to our apartment and you're having lone nights with him? I don't mean to be blunt, but he's a perfect stranger," He reminded me when I pursed my lips. "Don't you give me the chicken pout when I'm only trying to look out for you. He's homeless, and if it turns out he's been using you for some reason..."

"You're really sweet to care," I said, looking at both him and Kyle. "You both are, but with all due respect, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you?" Dan countered, leaning his elbow against the table. "Really; do you, Mel? Do you know who this man is?"

I pressed my lips into a flat line. I had my suspicions, but like my thoughts, they stayed private. "He's a good guy. You're forgetting how he helped me with Mason the other day. I've been alone with him more than once and he's never tried to hurt me. And, should I point out that I've always been the one coming to him?" That wasn't entirely true though. Tony had come to my apartment without invitation the first time. At least not one extended directly. Yet he came.

For the violin.

"He's not trying to use me," I finished, squaring Dan with a firm glare. "He's just here for the violin."

"Right," Dan said and leaned back in his chair. He flipped his eyes to Kyle whom I now saw sneak his hand to him, squeezing Dan's lightly. "I'm just not comfortable with the whole situation. If this one day ends badly, I won't know what the hell to tell the police."

"Nothing bad is going to happen," I told him. Liar. The blood. "He just comes here to play his violin if he wants. That's it. Now, can we please change the subject and return to our dinner? I'd like another steak if anyone will split one with me."

"One steak coming up," Kyle prompted, seeming thrilled that he could speak up now, after mine and Dan's little discussion. He was still new to our duo, so I imagined him feeling slightly uncomfortable sitting in on our argument.

He got out of his chair, taking my plate with him to the kitchen. In the meanwhile, I sipped my wine again, well aware that Dan was still on edge.

"I just hope you know what you're doing," He quietly said, sighing one last time before averting his eyes permanently.

I hoped so, too, I agreed silently. Damn, I hoped so, too.

~~~

Kyle and Dan decided to head out to catch a movie after we ate dessert. The cheesecake was amazing, of course, so good in fact, that on top of eating the steak, I felt absolutely full and fat for the next week. Thank God it always went to my butt.

After Kyle and Dan had said goodbye, I'd switched into my sweatpants and a loose shirt that hid my muffin top. I slung myself into the couch, covered up in a blanket, but still couldn't sleep.

I therefore zapped through the channels on the TV until my eyelids slowly drifted shut. I had only just nodded off when there suddenly came a buzz from the door. Like electrocuted, I jolted awake and sat up.

The sound was my siren call.

I arose from the couch and patted to the door, hitting the intercom. I held down the buzzer until I heard the door go, then waited till I heard his characteristic footsteps. Sliding the lock off, bracing myself, I slowly opened the door.

He stood silently as always, hulking like a ghost. Meeting my eyes, none of us spoke. The words weren't needed. His hesitation was shorter than the last time. He came in after just a moment, closing the door for me.

And then, like a choreographed ballet, we walked into the living room in a single file line.

To his violin.

Per instinct, I sunk into the armchair when he sat down on the couch, clicking the violin out of the case. With light fingers, he pulled the instrument out and looked at it.

I licked my lips and waited while he greeted his old friend again. It was a ritual, I had realized. He had to look at the instrument for almost a minute before he could torture it. Establish contact with the victim. Zone into his state of numbness, before...

Before the chaos erupted inside him.

I held my breath when he finally lifted the violin and pressed it to his chin. The bow met the strings, just as my heartbeat sped up.

Here we go.

And then he played.

It was torture again. It was agony. Wrath. Sadness. Frustration. He might as well have whipped the instrument. Hacked at it with an axe. Cut it with a chainsaw.

I couldn't breathe. For centuries or just minutes, I was entrapped. And then...

I was shaking when he finally lowered the violin again, putting it down, beaten and bleeding. Crying.

I was crying.

He was breathing hard himself, his eyes filled with so much... resentment. That violin... he tortured it, and yet, it was never good enough. Never enough.

Hearing my sniffle, his eyes jacked up to mine. I froze up and rolled my bottom lip into my mouth as he looked at me. His brows furrowed, tracked the tear tracks down my cheek, all the way to my chin and lips. His eyes zinged with something.

"You're crying," He bit out, as if the act was prohibited.

"So are you." I replied. "Inside."

His eyes flicked up to mine again and hardened. They drilled into me, stabbed me. How dared I prod into him?

Then, finally, he cut the connection and looked down; let the violin sink back into its cage, shutting it. He stood up, his height shadowing me.

"I should go."

"Sta—"

"Stay?" He cut me off before I could finish. His eyes clipped to mine again, anger dripping from them. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"I-I..."

"Answer me," He suddenly growled, taking the two steps that separated us, sinking down to my eye level to glare at me. He was angry. Furious. "Tell. Me. Why."

"I don't..." I didn't know why. Fuck, I didn't know, but I could tell if he didn't get an answer, he would... he would...

He will mangle you like that violin.

'I just hope you known what you're doing,' Dan's voice rang in my ears.

"I don't..." I repeated, but this time it wasn't enough for Tony.

He gripped my chin, not harshly, but enough to make sure my eyes didn't waver from his. He leaned in towards me and watched me from behind the curtain of his dark hair. "You know me, don't you? You recognize me. You know who I am."

I blinked, perplexed. Wait, what? Recognize? "Tony—"

"Tell me!" He roared into my face, pushing me back into the armchair as I recoiled in shock. "Just fucking tell me if you know; who am I?"

I stopped breathing.

All my suspicions... all my questions... they got answered in that second. Army Veteran... PTSD...

Amnesia.

Licking my lips, I slowly raised my hand and swiped his hair aside, seeing him grit his teeth as I did. I carefully traced my fingers across his scar by his left temple, feeling out each little jagged line. Neurosurgical stitches.

"I don't know who you are," I finally whispered, watching his eyes flicker. "I don't know, but I want to..."

Tony watched me for a long, silent moment, contemplating. Was I telling the truth? After another thirty seconds, he finally drew back, stood up, and walked away from me. I watched with a stiff body as he dragged a hand through his hair, yanking off his beanie. Wrath rolled off his back as he leaned his hands on our dining table, lurching over and breathing hard to control whatever was trying to erupt within him.

Control. Just like when the violin disobeyed him, he was currently beating himself into his own submission; Keep. It. Together.

"Fuck." He looked like he was breaking apart, crumbling like an unstable wall, yet stubborn as a soldier, he kept shoving the bricks back into place. They fell just as quickly as he stacked them.

I slowly arose from the armchair and walked up to him. "Tony..."

His eyes squeezed shut and he shook his head. Ditching another breath, he refused to meet my eyes as my hand reached out and softly graced the sleeve of his trench coat. "I can't do this anymore..." He grated out, his voice coming from his chest. "I'm so fucking tired of not... not... fuck..."

"Tony," I said again, now squeezing his arm.

Wrong move.

In one action that blurred before my eyes, I was shoved against the table, his hand locked over my throat, eyes tasering mine. I sucked in a gasp as his thumb moved over my pulse, feeling it beat hard against his touch. His eyes narrowed and he came closer, too close...

"Why are you helping me, Melody?"

I tried to swallow, but my throat refused to cooperate. Instead, words slipped from my mouth.

"How much do you remember?"

His eyes now lit on fire. They burned mine and I felt his hand squeeze lightly around my neck, maybe even without him realizing. His eyes were firmly pinned on mine as his mouth moved. They shaped the words that afterwards echoed eternally inside my head.

"Nothing. Nothing but that violin."

• • •

Control is all you have when you've lost everything else, so you practice it like religion.