A Melody so Soft and Powerful
The bow drew across the strings, Jefferson’s fingers flew over the neck, pressing and moving as a melody evolved. It started out as a lullaby but it was changing, an edge of madness slipping in as he leaned into the neck, his head fell and lips pursed. There was sweat on his brow with how hard he played.
He glanced up once, at the bed, and the corner of his lips twitched up as the music became lighter again, sweeter, hopeful.
“Beautiful,” said his audience, and Jefferson’s head dropped again.
His music changed, dropped. His fingers rose as the bow was pulled, drawing out a long and low sound. It was powerful, it was menacing, and it was strong. It moved faster, something on the edge of inspiring, in the land of dreaming, pulling away into new lands.
“This was inspired by you,” he said, looking at the body of his cello, leaning until it rocked on point. All he felt was the vibrations of the music against his bare torso.
He shivered at the touch of wood against the scar on his neck. It slid, making his back straighten out, and he tilted his head back as the bow fell away.
“I love it,” they said in his ear, and Jefferson shivered.
He turned to look at Rumpelstiltskin and bit his lip a moment before smiling. “Yeah?”
His face was different. Human. He wasn’t what he used to know. But Jefferson still liked it anyway, the darkness of his eyes and the calculating stares he knew so well.
“You don’t need reassuring. I said it once, not again.” But Rumpelstiltskin was smiling, hand curving around Jefferson’s throat.
Jefferson’s eyes closed and he hummed, the cane hooked his shoulder.
“Come to bed.”
“You know I can’t resist a direct order,” breathed Jefferson, and let himself be led.