a starter for @bratxprincexlestat from delilah simmons. ♡
the sound of the piano is haunting.
she feels the vibrations on her skin, and it takes her back to days where things were a lot simpler. uncomfortable uniforms and a strict teacher who loved using a metal ruler to punish her for daring to make a mistake. her thirteen year old self rears her dramatic head up, and she finds herself following the sound of the music before she can really stop herself, the sound of her leather boots and heels scruffing on the floor of the private studio—it's the snobby kind of place big artists get invited to, and smaller artists hoping to make something of themselves pay a big fee to get papped entering.
the owner is a fuck buddy of hers. delilah likes their acoustics for when she is feeling melancholic. but she has never heard anyone playing that old piano they had in one of the older recording rooms until tonight. she opens the doors. the lights are down low.
there's no one else in except the player. the room smells like expensive perfume and something she can't quite place. she licks her licks, tasting the expensive lipstick she was wearing as she followed the sound. it was beautiful. the kind of melody that required real talent and vulnerability. she invited herself into the recording booth, where the instruments were. it wasn't usual to have a piano like this inside, but james liked his vintage, and some people preferred the sound. it definitely paid off. she didn't interrupt him, simply leaned against the door and watched, arms crossed.
she'd recognise that golden crown of hair anywhere. he was everywhere right now. people were raving about him online. and here he was, in the flesh, playing music so beautifully she was almost weeping. though she wasn't sure if it was his skill or if it was the memories of the girl she had been before hollywood entered her bloodstream. delilah knows she needs no introduction, but she still lingers behind for a moment or two as he plays the last notes—she's wearing a sheer peach blouse that might as well be nothing, with a black lace bralette underneath it. her pants are black leather so tight it's a wonder she can walk in it. the velvet choker at her throat is her own touch.
her hair is more ash blonde than golden, and she always wears it in the typical i just got out of bed rockstar way. she finally starts walking toward him, her flowery perfume giving her away, giving him every chance to tell her to fuck off if he wanted to. when she reaches the piano, she positions herself where he can see her, and when her dark eyes meet his? she smiles. she can't help it. he has the most striking eyes. she licks her lips again, fingers drumming against the piano. “ you know, i haven't heard someone play that song like that since i was thirteen years old. ”
she leaned forward, breathing him in. her eyes drifted to his fingers, the instrument of his art. “ my piano tutor, mrs. higgins. god, she was a fucking cunt, but she could play the piano like god. she was just as good using that ruler to correct me when i fucked up. ” she laughed, like she genuinely said something funny, and looked up to meet his eyes again. “ dee. ” she gives him the intimate version, not the artist name. the one that people she liked called her. she doubts he doesn't know her. her new album was top 10 in the charts for months. “ you're the vampire rockstar. ” she said it like it was a secret. “ you bite? ” and there's that tongue in cheek smile she's famous for.