"Are you sure you'll be fine?" Dan asked for the twentieth time, and for the twentieth time, I nodded back. "Because I could stay home and call in sick—"

"No. Go to work and make the dough," I replied, practically shoving him towards the door when he tried to stay. "We can't both be lying on the couch, mostly because you take up the entire thing on your own, but also because that's just ridiculous. Carlos only gave me the week off so I could get my beauty sleep and let my face pretty-up again for the customers."

Dan snorted harshly and shook his handsome head. "Beauty sleep? The fucker should look himself in the mirror. He needs to hibernate."

I rolled my eyes and shoved at his chest again, pushing him towards the door. "Go. You're gonna be late."

Sighing defeatedly, Dan zipped up his jacket and then turned to open the door. "Fine. I'll be back at—"

"Dawn, I know, now shoo!"

Finally, after one last look, Dan left and trotted down the stairs, reminding me he was only a phone call away. I rolled my eyes again and shut the door.

I needed a night alone. Dan had been breathing down my neck ever since the incident and it made me feel like I couldn't relax. He wanted me to talk to somebody about what I had been through, especially since I hadn't wanted to talk to him about it. In a flash, he had been slinging words around like 'trauma' and 'PTSD' as if he had a degree in psychiatry. He didn't think it was healthy that I was already walking around on the street again, unprotected, which had brought us to his next point of business; self-defense. Apparently I should learn that, too.

I honestly had to admit this whole thing had spooked him more than me if he thought I couldn't walk around on the street without knowing how to put my side-person into deadlock. I had grown up in New York and been through loads of shit; this was just adding to the pile. I wasn't scared of my own city and I didn't need to be coddled. Hence, his fussing had driven me a little nuts, even if he meant well.

It had happened. I had been one of the lucky ones that had gotten away. Others weren't as lucky, and if the lucky ones started locking themselves up, then where did that put the unlucky?

I was making a point of moving past it.

Now in the silence of my dark apartment, I finally felt the tension lift off my shoulders as I exhaled, sinking into the couch. I flipped on the TV and sipped my chamomile tea while watching some random reality show until I realized I wasn't really following it. My mind was somewhere completely else.

Guess on what.

I forced myself to to do something else. I decide to order takeout from my favorite Thai place and then went into the bathroom to turn on the taps to the bathtub. I let it fill up, threw in my favorite bath bomb and let it color the water in a light pink color. I then paid for the Thai food when it arrived, slipped out of my jammies and let myself sink into the tub, pinning my hair up first, then grabbing my takeout and digging in.

Much better. This was what I needed. A perfect distraction; The warm water relaxed my tight muscles and the food helped comfort my soul. The cherry blossom scent calmed my nerves and even allowed my head a break. Perfect.

Despite moving on from my assault, I had to admit it had been a couple of intense weeks. I still couldn't understand what had gotten me so obsessed with him; Tony, as I now knew his name was(or was it?). I didn't know why I'd been so caught up with him. Except...

He had a sort of allure around him. A sense of mystery, yet stone cold nothingness. Like... he didn't care. But he still did. He tried not to care. And the violin... it reminded him of what he cared about.

Or what he hated.

I leaned back into the tub and sighed. My eyes closed themselves as my mind began swirling around him again.

That violin... how could he play it so passionately, yet care so little about it? Was it all an act or was it simply my own imagination running wild with me?

You're truly going crazy...

I didn't realize I'd almost fallen asleep before a buzz from the door suddenly startled me awake. The water had grown cold and my skin had pruned.

Lifting myself out of the tub, pulling the plug and tying my robe around myself, I patted to the front door and pressed the intercom. "Hello?"

No reply came. I frowned a little and tried again. Still no reply.

I then swallowed hard. My heart for some reason sped up as I felt a faint hunch...

"Tony?"

There still didn't come a reply, but I could tell something shifted. Holding my breath, I held down the buzzer and let him in. It had to be him. How he had found me, I didn't know...

I soon heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and with each step that came closer, my heart thumped faster. When I heard them falter outside my door, I unlocked it and peeked out through the crack.

He stood there, glaring at the ground, looking exhausted like the inner battle of coming here had worn him out. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, just standing there, unmoving. I didn't know what to say.

"Where is it?" He then whispered.

My heart stopped for a second again, but then jumpstarted and nearly sprung out of my mouth as I opened it. "In here."

I opened the door more and stepped aside, making room for him to come in. For a long moment, he simply just stood there and fought with himself, the task of passing my threshold seeming like a brutal war to him. Then finally...

He stepped in, his body tense and his steps stiff, but he came in and didn't turn around as I closed the door behind him. I lingering there, watched him. He didn't pay any attention to me. He stood there, just looking around in my clean apartment, taking it all in.

Until I realized that it wasn't what he was doing at all. He was searching. Searching for what he came here for.

I swallowed silently, but it sounded loud in the deafening silence. Carefully, I stepped around him in our narrow entrée and walked further into my apartment to the living room. Like a shadow, I felt him follow me.

I stopped up in front of the couch and then crouched down, picking up the violin case that still laid on our coffee table. I lifted it up and turned around to hand it to him, only to find him standing right behind me. I gasped and almost lost my balance, but managed to find it. Shakily, I held out the suitcase for him, but he didn't take it. He just looked at it.

There was something within his eyes. They weren't hollow like when we spoke back and forth on the street. They weren't tired anymore. The deep circles remained, but his pupils dilated as he stared at the suitcase containing his little submissive instrument... the one that liked to scream and bleed for him. Had he missed it?

Finally, he grabbed the latches of the suitcase and clicked them. As the lid opened and he laid eyes on the suitcase's treasure, his lips flattened. With a diligent hand, he lifted the violin out, taking the bow with his other. I lowered the case once he held the instrument in his hand, looking at it like was an old picture he was trying connect with.

"When you play..." I quietly whispered. He seemed to ignore me, continuing to glare at the instrument. "When you play, something happens to you. What is it?"

His brows creased ever so slightly. Maybe he heard me after all. Even so, he chose not to answer, but simply lifted the violin, exhaling as his chin settled into the chinrest. His eyes closed and then he lifted the bow, pressing it against the strings. I instantly held my breath, preparing myself.

But no matter what I did, I couldn't prepare myself for how he played.

As the first note came from the violin, my heart went into my throat. I felt suffocated, trying to grasp for my next breath as I awaited the next note.

But it never came.

I saw as his hand, the one holding the bow, began shaking and then he dropped it, the clatter of it hitting the floor startling me. I jumped away, protected my bare toes. Tony only let out hard breath as he lowered the violin again, letting it drop into the couch.

What had happened?

"I can't do this," He hoarsely said, already backing away, retreating. "I told you it was a mistake."

"No," I quickly said, holding up my hand again, blinking fast. "No please, stay. If you can't... if you can't play, it's fine. I-I have some leftover takeout. Please stay and eat some with me. Please."

He frowned up at me, his eyes meeting mine. They then slowly trailed down my body, and that's when I remembered I was still only wearing my thin robe. Instinctively, I closed the neck more and crossed my arms over my chest, shielding myself as well as I could.

Except his eyes simply did a scan, then averted themselves, rejecting me too. "I should go."

No. "I'm asking you to stay. Please." I pleaded. I sounded desperate.

"Why?" The one syllable was voiced with such harshness and thickness, my breath caught in my throat. I felt like I couldn't breathe whenever he was around. It was that aura. It was choking everything in his orbit. Suffocating it.

"I don't know," I whispered. It was the truth. I didn't know why I wanted him to stay. Maybe I was curious. Maybe I was crazy.

Or maybe it was because of the way the violin laid naked on my couch, dejectedly. I felt like I was trying to reconnect a mother with its rejected cub. Trying to convince her it was her child and she had to take care of it. Keep it with her.

But Tony didn't have any motherly instincts. He was as primal as they came. He looked at the violin as if it was an enemy. Something to kill. Play with.

"Please," I said again. His eyes flicked to mine again and pierced deep into me. I swallowed. "Stay."

I saw the deep look in his eyes, and then, as if our souls had made an agreement, they shifted and he looked around in my apartment, now actually taking it in. Seeing it. Observing it. Making himself comfortable with it.

I exhaled. He didn't need to say it aloud before I understood. He had agreed to stay. I don't know why, but he had. I was just glad he did.

"I'll go put on some clothes," I said, clearing my throat a little when it came out hoarsely. "And then I'll get the takeout. You can just sit down, make yourself... uh..." I wanted to say 'make yourself at home', but like a soldier out of war, I knew he'd never feel home here. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll... I'll be right back."

I hurried into the bathroom and slipped on my sweatpants and top again, pulling my cardigan on over. I then unclipped my hair from the bun and let fall down my back, cascading in a bundle of untamed curls.

Picking up what was left of my takeout, I then walked out of the bathroom to find Tony sitting on my couch, looking so misplaced with his dirty brown trench coat and soiled hair in the white-beige living room Dan had decorated. I nonetheless approached him, setting down the food on the coffee table. I took a seat in the armchair besides him, pulling nervously at my cardigan again.

Silence. Nobody spoke. He didn't touch the food, simply just stared at the floor. My eyes fell to the violin laying besides him. It looked so stiff. He looked so stiff. The atmosphere was stiff.

I cleared my throat and took a shaky breath. "I asked you that night... I asked who you were and... you said you didn't know."

"I don't."

I exhaled. He replied. "So... your name isn't Tony?"

His eyes lifted to mine, and even in the darkness, they pierced me. "You asked me who I was, not what my name was."

And the two were apparently a very big difference. "So your name is Tony?"

Sighing, he gave a simple nod, then let his hand scrub down his face, scratching his beard. I couldn't help but study his features underneath. From what I could tell, he had high cheekbones. His nose was slightly crooked and the space above his left eyebrow had a small scar I hadn't noticed before now. He probably had more of those. Visible and invisible.

"Well..." I quietly begun again. "I don't know if you remember, but my name is—"

"Melody." He finished before I could. His deep voice said the three syllables like they were a prayer. "I remember."

I gulped. A chill went down my back as he shifted and leaned back on the couch, sighing longly. My eyes couldn't help but trail down his body as well, doing a scan like he had me, but his clothes revealed as much as his face did; Nothing.

As my eyes trailed back up to his, I found him staring at me. My body automatically tightened at the way they hardened; He noticed.

The air suddenly turned too thick to breathe. His eyes didn't stray from mine, but kept my gaze locked on him. For what seemed like forever, we stayed like that, watching one another. He kept holding my eyes locked to his, unable to escape his orbs. His orbit.

But then, he released me.

I exhaled hard and blinked several times. Had I been holding my breath? Had he made me? How?

I shook my head and tried to find something to say, but it was impossible. I wasn't sure if he knew the power he had. Of everything. If he ignored it or simply just played with it for the fun of it like he did with his violin. Or was it all about the torture?

"What am I doing here, Melody?" He finally asked. My eyes flipped to him again and I found him looking tired, exhaustedly at my floor. Truth was, I didn't have an answer. At least not a good one.

"Where'd you learn to play?" I asked instead of voicing an answer I didn't want to. No point in scaring him off already.

But it appeared my seemingly normal question made something clench inside him. I saw his shoulders tighten like when I'd brought up the violin on the street earlier, and saw how his lips flattened and his jaw probably clenched. I couldn't tell for the beard, but if his rigid expression was any indicator, I realized I'd struck a nerve.

"It's... non of your business," He replied, his voice low. Something sounded off, though. He wasn't angry. Nor agitated. He was... on edge? Something very faint in his voice shook.

My brows creased ever so slightly. Small pieces of information was slowly clicking together, but it was too early for me to make a conclusion. I didn't want to jump to anything too soon. I had a feeling that one wrong move with this guy and he was gone for good.

"I'm sorry," I therefore replied. I averted my eyes and silently shook my head. What was I doing, really? I was keeping him here, clearly against his will, but he was being polite for some reason. I hoped it wasn't because of what he had saved me from. That he didn't want to upset me. God. That was probably it though, wasn't it? Why else would he volunteer to stay?

I cursed at myself mentally. Fucking think a little, Melody.

"You don't have to feel like you have to stay," I said, looking up at him and finding that he met my stare. His eyes narrowed a little like he was trying to read me. "If you don't want to, I shouldn't keep you. You can take the violin and be on your way. You can take the food as well."

When I stood up from the armchair, he did too, almost like a reflex. Manners. The kind they drilled into you through military training. She stands, you stand. Is that clear, maggot?

Sir, yes, sir!

"I don't want the violin," He almost gritted out, like the words were a bother to say. "I told you. Just take it back. It's not mine."

"I know it's not," I said crossing my arms over my chest. Why did I keep defending that poor violin and why did he keep rejecting it? "But I can't just take it back. It's stolen, Tony." Stolen, but now with its rightful owner. "If you don't want it, what am I supposed to do with it?"

His lips thinned again. "Destroy it."

"What?" I exclaimed and gaped at him for a second. Like hell if I was going to destroy such a beautiful, not to mention expensive instrument. "No!"

"Want me to do it for you?" His voice was emotionless.

I was pinned stiffly for exactly two seconds by his eyes again, those two thunderbolts lighting up at me. Then, my eyes flickered and I looked down at the violin. It still laid exactly where he had disposed it. On my couch. Just lying there. Lifeless.

If it was already dead, then why did I feel so bad about killing it?

Because it wasn't dead when it was in his hands.

My eyes lifted to Tony again and found him still staring at me. It was a stare that challenged me, waited for me. Like he wanted my permission to kill it. I wasn't gonna give him that.

I shook my head. "No. If that's the case... I'll keep it. If you don't want it, I'll keep it here. If you ever want to come back for it..."

"I won't." He stated, then turned on his feet and stalked around the couch, heading directly for the door. It happened so fast, I had to use two full seconds before I snapped back into action.

"Wait," I said, rushing after him. He was by the door, but he stopped up with his hand on the doorknob. I stopped right behind him, looking at him. He didn't look back. "No matter what you say, the offer stands. You have a gift, Tony. If you decide you want to use it..."

I swallowed hard and watched as his eyes lowered to the floor, then after a second, he twisted the doorknob and walked out without a word. He was down the stairs before I could blink.

He was gone.

Quietly, I closed the door and walked back to the couch, looking down at the violin. It still just laid there. I don't know why I had expected it to move. You're going crazy, for sure.

I should just quit it. He clearly didn't want this violin. Why couldn't I just let the poor man be? He had rejected it three times now; How many more times did he need to do it before I got the message?

But if he really didn't want it... then why did he come here tonight?

• • •

Wanting what we can't have... or not wanting what we have?