She’d never told them that she could play piano. Maybe they’d been too busy, snogging Jayden behind the canteen every lunchtime and selling cigs and various low-level drugs - think less weed, more paracetamol and, weirdly enough, the strangely popular calpol - on the walk home. Maybe they just didn’t pay enough attention to her anymore. In any case, as they perched on the end of the piano stool, they were astounded by the effortlessness of her fingers gliding over the keys, recognising the music from a video which someone had shown them at lunch. Music, unlike other things - like names - was easy to recall, especially with a little help, such as one of their closer acquaintances playing the exact same song right in front of their face.

“It’s beautiful.” Even as she ended the song, the notes continued to waver in the air, making their voice sound hoarse in comparison. “You never- I mean, have you ever told me you could play like this?”

“Your memory’s bad, but not that bad.” She smiled diplomatically, taking her hands away from the piano and turning to look at them. “I haven’t told T yet. Gonna surprise him, with a nice song for his birthday. But anyway, I’ve heard you in Music, so - there you go. It’s all yours.”

“W-what?” A little stunned by the sudden change in topic, their gaze flickered between her and the piano, face uncertain. “I only play when everyone in my group forces me, I honestly don’t enjoy it-”

“You don’t need to keep up the tough seller facade here, Jey.” And there was her touch, comforting, on their arm - honestly, they should’ve guessed she played piano, or some kind of instrument. “I booked this practice room, and no one else bothers to come in Music at lunch, now that they’re not allowed to eat in here. Just… just play what you practiced last, that way you’ll be most comfortable with whatever it is. And-” cutting them off before they could even speak, her look alone made them keep their mouth shut, “don’t tell me you don’t practice, because I’ve seen you sneak in here at break sometimes.”

“Stalker.”

She didn’t object to that last comment, clearly telling them that their usual tactics of argument-forming as a distraction from the main subject of conversation wasn’t going to work on her. Sighing, and with a dramatic flipping of their fringe and rolling of their eyes, they set their hands on the keys, closing their eyes for a moment. If they were being serious about this, then they’d actually have to play the last thing which they’d practised, which was… what was it? No, they could remember music - they had to remember music. It was… oh, of course it was. It had to be.

Even as they began to play the opening, they could feel themself losing control of their emotion. It was breaking out of wherever it usually stayed, locked away in the back of their mind, and seeping into an area behind their eyes, forcing a horrible sensation to travel through their nose. The first drop of salty water rolled down from the corner of their eye, past their nose, diving across their face to miss their mouth and find the jawline, running over and down it, until it became lost in the greyed collar of their shirt.

It had to be that song.