It was only a small miracle Dan wasn't home.

Lying in my bed, I watched Tony sleep. He wore a browbeating expression in his dreams and his nostrils flared quietly as he battled with his quiet demons.

My soul watched his. I barely dared to breathe as I watched how tattered it was. Its journey for peace had torn it to pieces.

I pressed my lips together and lowered my eyes to his body. I wondered when he had started letting himself go... I couldn't imagine waking up every morning looking at myself and not recognizing my own reflection. Tony had done that for eight years. At last he had given up on himself, just like the world had given up on him.

Silently arising, I toed out of my bedroom. Drifting into the empty living room, my eyes fell to the note I had found earlier when we had first stepped in. It had been taped to the mirror in the hall. A text on my phone was how we usually did things, but then again, lately, maybe he didn't think I would do what I usually did.

Mel,
I'm staying with Kyle for a few days. I think it's for the best. Call me later when you see this, alright?
Love you,
Dan

My hands cradled my phone as I looked at his number. I picked at my bottom lip, trembling as I hit dial.

Dan had always been there for me. If he had left me... if he couldn't recognize me... if he had given up on my reflection...

The phone rang out. He was probably still sleeping. He was working last night and it was still early for us. Sighing, I put my phone away on the coffee table, but then halted up. Reflection...

Looking at himself, Tony remembered nothing. But when he played...

My gaze was pinned on the violin. It was right there, on the couch, where he had left it after we came back. He had taken it out of the case, fiddled with it, then discarded it—rejected it, and traded it in for my bed. He could fight later.

But now, I couldn't help but stare at it. It just lay there. Lifeless. Soulless. Soundless. Empty and mute without his fingers to wield the bow and strings. It was truly nothing more than a puppet. But wasn't that the kettle calling the pot.

He'd played it in front of me so many times. He played like it was nothing, yet it took everything in him to pick it up—to tap into whatever opened up when fingers met wood and bow met strings. Reflection... recognition... remembering...

My own fingers suddenly twitched. Itched. A need I didn't know was building inside me.

He had played and felt through it, but what was it that truly happened to him? He remembered, but what happened the moment before he did? During? After? It was like... chemistry. Something sparked and caused a reaction. Fireworks in the fog.

Dead apart. Alive together.

Etching forward, my fingers slowly reached around the neck of the tool, but unlike him, I didn't strangle it. I picked it up delicately, like a fragile doll, and placed it in my lap to look at it. Just like he always did.

The curvy body of it looked so strangely ladylike. It was ironic. I wondered if he saw the same thing when he looked at it. A woman? A tool? An instrument? Nothing? I could've guessed for ages, and in a million years, I would be non the wiser.

Slowly, I lifted the violin. I closed my eyes and tried to remember what he did. He lifted the body to his chin, settling his head against it like he was spooning it. He raised the neck to an angle and then... he grasped the bow.

I followed his exact steps, but as I put the bow to the strings, my eyes opened.

I had no idea what I was doing. Right around now was when Tony would disappear. When laying his chin on the chinrest like a pillow, he fell into a dreamworld that somehow always turned into a nightmare along the way. But I didn't.

Because I didn't see my reflection in the violin.

I exhaled shakily and stayed seated on the floor. What now? I couldn't play. I didn't have the faintest clue how to. I'd seen his fingers dance and quiver on the strings, had seen him drag the bow against it more than I could remember, but... had I ever really seen what he had done?

Then again, it was never about looking. It was about hearing. He always closed his eyes and let the music guide him, never his fingers or arm as he steered the bow. He moved with the music, rocked back and forth. It was a never-ending battle of control; Who was the true instrument? Him or the violin?

I closed my eyes and let the bow scrape across the strings. The sound was horrid and mangled, like nails on a chalkboard. Yet still, I kept sawing.

The violin wept, screamed for mercy. I never realized how loud it was until I had it right next to my ear. I could hear every little nuance of pain and screeching in the off-key chaos I was forcing from it; exposing it to a whole new kind of torture. New hands beating the instrument up.

Suddenly, a calloused hand grasped mine. I froze up and snapped my eyes open. I felt him behind me before I heard him, the warmth of his chest pressing against my back. His hand slowly curled around my left one.

"I..." I whispered, not knowing what to say. I was caught. Busted. How would he respond to another person trying to mangle his instrument? Trying to make it suffer? Burn it.

Instead of feeling the icy grip of his hand locking around my throat, I felt his body press against mine. A hand laid itself against my stomach, pressing in on it.

"Sit up straight." His tired voice was in my ear.

Woodenly, like a true puppet, I followed his command. His grip on my hand shifted, moving to my fingers. He placed them on the strings. Guided them. Taught them?

His other hand lifted to my arm. The one holding the bow. He raised it and placed the bow against the strings once more, stilling it exactly where it was supposed to be. I didn't move. I sat still as I finally felt him swipe my hair away from my neck. Then, his command grated into my ear; "Play."

I dragged the violin down. A long, sober note filled my ears, deep and dark. Depression. I released a shaky breath.

His hands directed my fingers again, moved them up the neck. He guided my fingers once more, placing them on the correct strings. His lips against my ear was my cue to start again.

Pushing the bow up, a shrill, high shriek came from the body of the violin. I sucked in a breath, held it. Heartache. Heart... break?

His fingers moved mine again. I sat still and let him guide me. For the first time since I had met him, I was truly a puppet to his gifts, the gifts I had yet to understand. Before all this, before me, before war, before... everything... he used to play for another reason. Not just to remember, not just to feel...

Why.

And that's how I realized.

That was the question he was asking himself every time he played.

A shaky breath left me, a breath I knew he heard. His hands stilled. The world did. The music died and so did the faint city noise outside. My breath was all anyone could hear.

Slowly, Tony's hand moved. Fading from the grip around my hand, it edged towards my chin. I could feel the calloused tips of his fingers as he ceased the bottom of my face and moved my head. My body complied willingly and I turned, feeling the scratch of his stubble against my cheek.

Then, I his breath struck mine.

With nothing but air between us, my heart was racing, but my soul stayed still. It was trapped in his grip as he let his hand cup my face, his finger trailing up my cheekbone to my hairline. He exhaled, his lips grazing mine. My breath vanished.

A shrill sound broke the silence with a burst and made my eyes whip open and my body do a jerk. Tony remained still, but his lips moved away from mine, his hands letting me go. For all of three seconds, I was whiplashed by the shift in the tension, until I finally realized what had broken the moment.

My phone that laid on the coffee table was ringing and flashing Dan's name on the screen. I blinked, trying to remember and zone back to this world, pulling myself out of Tony's. It took everything to drag myself back and finally suck in a breath. I could breathe again.

Behind me, Tony moved. Just like that, he was gone. My body felt cold and my arms automatically lowered the violin that had been neglected the second Tony changed the tune. I looked at it for only a moment before my phone snapped me out of it again, still ringing.

Snatching my phone, I quickly hit the green button and pressed the device to my ear. "H-hello?"

"Mel," Dan's sleepy voice woke me up in the other end. I vaguely sensed the bathroom door open and shut behind me. I exhaled heavily. "Sorry I missed your call."

"It's okay," I replied, licking my lips. I pulled myself up off the floor and forced myself to move around. "I, uh... I got your note."

There was a small pause in the other end. "Mel, I love you," He then said. "You're my family and you know I'll always be there for you. You know that."

I pressed my lips together, holding back the tears in my eyes. I was nodding, realizing he couldn't tell. Yet he somehow could.

"But, Mel... you're not you right now," Dan's voice was as broken as my soul. "I don't know what's happening to you... what you're going through... but if you want to talk—when you want to talk about it... I'm only a phone call away." He waited a moment, and I closed my eyes. "But until then, I think it's best I stay with Kyle. I can't watch you hurt yourself, Mel, but promise me if you ever get too far out... if you cross a line you can't come back from... you call me. Please. Promise me you'll call."

"I promise," I whispered. He didn't try and talk me out of it. He didn't judge anymore. Maybe he had finally realized this was something I needed to do. Maybe he had seen me walk around for six months like a living corpse, doing nothing but breathing and sleeping. Maybe, he had concluded I had to wake up, but had to do it my own way. Tony's way.

"I still don't trust him," He told me. "I want you to be careful around him, Mel. Promise me you'll be safe."

"I will." That was the thing. Even as chaotic as Tony's world was, even as fucked as it got... I had always felt safe with him. Maybe it was the Nightingale syndrome talking, maybe it was more insanity, but whatever it was, I wasn't scared. But was that the same as feeling safe?

"I'll see you in a few days," Dan broke me out of my thoughts. "I think you should call Carlos and say you need a few personal days. I'll make sure you have a job to come back to. Just... do whatever you need to do right now," He exhaled a brick, holding a small pause. "And then come back to me. Okay?"

"Okay." I didn't bother arguing. I didn't see a reason to. "I love you, Dan. So much."

"I know. Talk later, pumpkin. Stay safe."

"Bye." Pulling the phone away from my ear, I watched the line go dead. Squeezing my eyes shut, I then let my phone fall into the couch, disappearing into the cushions. Tears burned in my eyes, in my heart, in my soul.

What was I doing? I was going so far out, what was I coming back to? I couldn't stop now, couldn't abandon Tony. I had given him my word. 'You don't have to stay... but I will.' Looking into his eyes and saying those words were not unlike carving them into my very skin. It was more than a promise; It was a vow. From one soul to another. I had given him more than my word; I had given him my trust.

Hearing the bathroom door open, I automatically turned and saw him step out. His hair was damp and his skin was wet. He was pulling his shirt on, droplets on his body dotting the white shirt. Once again, I caught eye of the pale shrapnel scars on his chest before they were covered up and hidden away. Clean, but always haunted by the dirt of his past.

I sucked in a breath. I had given him more than my words, and now it was time for him to return the favor. In order to help him, he had to give me... everything. Everything he hadn't said yet. Everything he had left to give.

He had to give me his trust.

"Are you ready to finish our conversation?" The words left my mouth and his eyes shifted to me. Blue pierced my soul and slowly begun dragging me inside his world to search for his blue. Into blue I went.

Into chaos.

• • •

Welcome to the land of chaos I call home.