[Don't think about anything. Don't think about how much it hurts don't think about all the missing pieces don't think about it don't think. Just wedge yourself into the spaces between the notes, curl up, and be. He can never reach the point where it all vanishes, but with the well-worn tune of days long gone he can at least come a few steps closer to it.
He doesn't want to stop. Instinctively he knows nothing will be different when he re-opens his eyes; he'll just remember again. He plays as he always does when he's alone, repeating entire sections to draw the song out longer and let himself hide a little more. He does nothing about the unannounced tears that slip down his face; his hair gives an adequate veil.
It has to end eventually, though. The final note dies. He lowers the pipes and his eyes open reluctantly. With the back of his hand, he wipes quietly at his face. He doesn't lift his head. Nothing to acknowledge that Silver is there, even as his existence presses into the back of Mithos's neck.]
no subject
He doesn't want to stop. Instinctively he knows nothing will be different when he re-opens his eyes; he'll just remember again. He plays as he always does when he's alone, repeating entire sections to draw the song out longer and let himself hide a little more. He does nothing about the unannounced tears that slip down his face; his hair gives an adequate veil.
It has to end eventually, though. The final note dies. He lowers the pipes and his eyes open reluctantly. With the back of his hand, he wipes quietly at his face. He doesn't lift his head. Nothing to acknowledge that Silver is there, even as his existence presses into the back of Mithos's neck.]