» Majors & Minors || Miles & Silas
Relieved and pleased, Miles gave Silas a brief but warm grin before smoothly taking a seat at the piano. Hands rested tentatively on the keys, not yet pressing. Instead he felt over the texture of the ivory before pressing a couple of keys. He slowly went through the scale, which made it appear as though he were merely toying around, and didn’t know a damn thing about pianos or music…
Miles straightened his back to the proper posture for playing and set his fingers to the keys.
When Miles played, he did so with the skill of someone who had been rapped repeatedly on the back of the hand (not the knuckles) by an instructor at a young age. He played with a discipline of someone with the proper sense of hearing to maintain the proper pacing of the song. Everyone went for Beethoven in front of a piano. Miles had always had a particular fondness for Suite bergamasque and the third movement. Clair de Lune had always Miles’ favorite. It made him think of New York on Autumn nights, of the coast of North Carolina the summer he spent with his grandparents…
It would’ve been rude to play the whole song. Reluctantly, Miles stopped, fingers dropping from the keys rather than lifting. He had no room in his current apartment for a piano.
As soon as the man sat down to plunk away at the keys, Silas turned to walk away. Years of dealing with doe-eyed window shoppers had him callous to the kind of passion that used to light his younger self up. God only knew how many afternoons he’d spent up topside hiding in the backs of record stores, ogling instruments he couldn’t have hoped to own in his wildest dreams. New York City had never taken kindly to his particular brand of dreaming, nor did any shopkeepers pity his empty wallet. Though, as he filled the latter’s role, the disciple figured there was no harm in humoring someone else’s pipe dream, if only for a few minutes. In fact, so long as the piano was handled with respect, Cobb couldn’t have cared less about the sap playing it—striking eyes and all.
But, when amateur plinking all at once turned to a Debussy standard, Silas paused in stride. Though classical pieces weren’t his forte, the timeless melody was unmistakable. He’d watched from afar as Cohen played through it the very day they met, nearly twelve years back.
“Huh.” The southerner spun to face his customer again, brow lifted in mild interest. He crossed a pair of gangling arms over his chest as he waited for the man to finish up, snorting once other’s hands eventually withdrew from the keys. If the display was meant to impress him, it failed. But, whoever this schmuck was had still managed to catch his attention. That in itself earned him a couple of bragging rights.
“Not bad.” Silas slunk forward to claim his previous spot, a knowing grin spread over his face as he leaned an elbow on the piano top.
“You got a name, hot shot?”
» String Vibrations
"Hell- Cobb, I’ve been tuning this piano for the last two or so hours, it’s the only thing that keeps me out of Cohen’s sight. ‘Course I haven’t seen the loon." Kyle muttered. He passed a hand over his hair, smoothing it back into place from where it had started to fall over his forehead as he thought for a minute.
"Wait a minute. Cohen’s been locked up working on that new theatre piece hasn’t he? What, has he finally managed to hurt your feelings over your music? Or are you just looking for a place to hide?" As he talked, Kyle walked away from the door, turning his back on Silias and going over to the piano bench. He picked up his tuning hammer and placed back in his tool pouch. With Silias here he wasn’t about to have the silence he needed for tuning. He looked over to his fellow disciple and shot him a look.
"Your best bet for finding Cohen’s always his apartment. I’m guessing you’ve been by there, so is there another reason you’ve got for preventing me from my tuning?"
Cobb scoffed first, then snickered in earnest. He’d expected a petulant dig or two from his fellow disciple, sure, but Kyle was way off base. Looking for a place to hide. If anything, Sander was hiding from him.
“‘A’course I have,” as always, his humor faded fast, “An’ a’course there ain’t. No need tuh get yer panties in such a twist.”
The southerner stepped inside, nudging the door behind him shut with his heel. With Cohen MIA—again—he regrettably had some time to kill. Though, Kyle’s clear discontent encouraged him to stay a while longer as he approached the piano, brow narrowed inquisitively towards the open body. It’d been some time since he’d been tasked with tuning one. But, looking over those inner bits and bobs brought him right back to his mama’s den, hunched over their old antique upright with aching arms and ringing ears. Silas very nearly smiled at the memory. Of course, he thought better of it before glancing back to Kyle, irritation dulled down to impassiveness.
”Need some help?”
A faint smirk touched his lips as he eyed the smaller man up and down.
“I’m sure yer tuckered out by now.”
Ronny was more or less slumping against the wall as the other man closes that distance between them. His green eyes lift to meet Silas’s own as he leans in to fiddle with his collar, flashing a playful smirk at him. A small conversation and a few drinks later and here they were, but he was making absolutely no complaints.
He licks across his own lips briefly and swallows when he feels the hot breath and lips against his exposed throat, earning a reach and tug to Silas’s hair. Maybe to bring him even closer.
”By all means… Please do. It’s no fun without some risk.”
The disciple returned Ronny’s smirk against the man’s own neck, tracing that same vein up to a very prominent jaw. Silas began to nibble along its edge as his hands wandered down, eventually finding their way to Sterling’s hips. He squeezed hard, a fierce possessive streak rearing its head under the sway of whiskey—a mere two helpings of it. For a man so fit, Cobb was a notorious lightweight. What that held in store for his partner, however, remained to be seen.
“Right here?" he teased in a rough whisper, smirk widening as the other man’s fingers tightened in his hair. Though, the southerner didn’t wait for an answer before smoothing a palm down between Ronny’s legs, firmly cupping a sizable bulge.
”Now that’s risky.”
True Detective Inspired Gifs [ 1 / 3 ]
From the dusty mesa her looming shadow grows
Hidden in the branches of the poison creosote.
You Want Me To Burn ||
Cohen + Cobb ⌊A mix for Rapture’s greatest artist & his favorite disciple;
songs of heated passion & it’s decent into burning hatred.
⋙ Track Listing ⋘
1. Beautiful—Alan Cumming || 2. I Hope That I Don’t Fall In Love With You—Tom Waits || 3. Love Runs Out—OneRepublic || 4. You Belong To Me—Atlas Sound || 5. You Really Got A Hold On Me—She & Him || 6. My Greatest Mistake—The Ink Spots || 7. Falling Down—Muse || 8. The Artist—The Hush Sound || 9. I’m Not Calling You A Liar—Florence & The Machine || 10. Love It Dissipates—Mother Mother || 11. Things We Lost In The Fire—Bastille || 12. If I Had A Heart—Fever Ray || 13. Burn—The Pretty Reckless || 14. Overdue—Muse || 15. Up In The Air—Thirty Seconds To Mars || 16. Justice For Saint Mary—Diablo Swing Orchestra || 17. I Don’t Care Much—Alan Cumming (Cabaret)
⋙ [Listen] [Alternate Cover] [Art Credit] ⋘
"Yes, he does. I was just admiring the piano. I work-- well, I guess it doesn't matter where I work so long as my money's green, right?"
Silas sighed first, and let go the urge to roll his eyes as he turned to meet the man head on. His impatience, however, abruptly ebbed as he was met with rather striking features—prominently, a set of shining baby blues that set his stomach in a familiar, sickening twist; the kind that blended palpable want and burdening guilt together.
"…I s’pose so."
Brushing the twinge aside, the southerner gave a single, curt nod towards the baby grand in question.
"Do try tuh’ behave yerself.”
"Uhm, hi. I just would... are customers allowed to try out instruments?"
"Does the customer have the cash on him
tuh’ buy anythin’ he breaks?”