I'll wait until it's dark before going back.

You wait until it’s dark before returning to Tiny’s Tavern. You spent most of your day on that contract and then at another bar, Blair’s Bar, a budget joint with ugly women and worse men, but you still managed to find someone to waste your time with.

Delilah is at the counter when you come in. Your eyes meet, and you both smile. When you don’t stop, however, she calls out for you.

“What is it?”

“Are you coming back down?” She asks meekly.

“Of course, I just need to dump my stuff off,” you look around and see a few other people. “Looks like you’ll be a bit busy anyway.”

You crash into your room and drop your rucksack on the floor. Arabella and the twins stand up, apparently surprised by your hard entry.

“You’re back early. Everything go alright?” Arabella asks.

You want to tell them about Scarlet and Kenji, but you don’t want to scare them either, so you lie. “It went fine. No hiccups.”

Arabella doesn’t know you well enough to know when you’re lying, so she smiles. “Good to hear, master!”

Gwendolion and Mikko cheer too, but it seems more programmed than actual emotion. You realize you shouldn’t let them go without any kind of warning, so you press on. “Stay inside my room while I’m away. If I’m ever gone longer than a day, just stay in here.”

Arabella’s ears twitch at the change of tone of your voice and suddenly piece together something else might have happened on your contract. However, she sees that you’re staring at the twins and not her and concludes that you’re more concerned about them than her.

The twins' nod like puppies, smiling and jittering. You look at Arabella. “I have questions for you later, but I want to unwind a bit before we dive into them. So over breakfast tomorrow, we’ll have a meeting.”

“Master?” Arabella asks.

You extend your hand out. “Trust me. Just be extra careful from now on.”

Arabella clears her throat. “Is this about Delilah?”

You scoff. “What? No?”

She sighs. “So you haven’t broken up with her, huh?”

“Of course not. Why?”

She shrugs, her cheeks burning with pink. “I- I just thought…she got jealous with us around you all the time and went crazy-psycho.”

You laugh at her concern, and she blushes harder. “Sorry.”

“No,” you chuckle. “That’s— it was cute.”

A harsher shade of pink floods her cheeks, and she grabs her fingers. “Keep me updated on your professions with her, though, please?”

You assure Arabella she’ll hear everything that comes— good and bad. Arabella seems more girlish than usual. Even the way she’s standing seems more feminine. You’re glad to see her relaxed. You also couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that she has grown closer to your personal life and was willing to help and invest her thoughts into the situation.

When you return to the lobby, you find it not so empty. Instead, a few people are murmuring. At first, you consider the worst and wonder if something terrible happened during your drop-off. When you hear the piano's keys being tickled, you immediately relax and slowly step into the lobby, however.

With her back turned, Delilah is playing yet another song you haven’t heard before. The keys bounce with lyrics you don’t understand, but when you listen and watch, you grasp that the tone and start to feel melancholy— but vaguely hopeful.

There’s a lot of movement and striking between the short pauses, but it always returns to a chorus with more character than the time before it. Delilah sways and hunches her back, tilting slightly to listen to the song she’s forcing out to the tavern. You can’t see her expression. Still, you envision her eyes closed and her lips pursed, focused on producing the muscle memory well-enveloped in her fingers.

It’s a beautiful piece. Another one that you don’t know the name of but is oddly her. The last notes hang and linger, filling the room with a mood that beckons to be remembered, despite not lasting more than just a few minutes. The crowd you join doesn’t clap, but they do make some loud comments about how well “the young girl can play” some of the others, however, are more attracted to her looks and not so much her talent, which disappoints you.

Your eyes linger on Delilah for a few seconds longer before your attention is drawn to the bastards remarking more about her ass than her song.

Their comments are about to warrant some of your own physical attention, but you forget about them when Delilah runs up to you, her eyes lingering on the crowd that she managed to gather on her own. Her blissful expression snuffed your negative thoughts, and suddenly she was all that mattered again.

“Warren!” She cried out. “I— did you see everyone watching me?”

You nodded and grabbed Delilah's waist in a loose embrace as you listened to what she had to say. “I‘ve never had anyone stop and watch me. I— mean besides, like, a few random occasions.”

She bit lightly on her lower lip and smiled at you. “I don’t know why, but I’ve been wanting to play again, and… yesterday, when you had me play for you, I got all these crazy ideas about maybe attending music events and playing again.”

“Is that something you’d like to do?”

She nods energetically. “Yes! It’s getting late in the year, and I know there’s bound to be a recital somewhere nearby before this year is over. Would you mind?”

The real color of her becomes vivid with excitement. “Of course,” you chuckle slightly. She blinks and hugs you.

“Thank you!” She pushes away and stares up at you. “We haven’t done many proper dates, have we?”

You thought about it for a second and realized you hadn’t in reality. “We can change that now.” Delilah is so fixated on you that you almost feel embarrassed. “What’s on your mind, kid?”

She blinks, her face going red now that you’ve mentioned her directly. “I don’t know. A lot of things, I guess.”

Delilah exhales, and let’s go. “I should clean up…catch you later?”

“I can stay around,” you offer.

Surprisingly, she shakes her head. “Nah, don’t stay up. You look tired, and I don’t want to be the reason you’re losing rest.”

“You’re worth it,” you tease.

She kisses you. “Don’t make me the excuse.”

“Fine,” you kiss her back and step away. “Have a good night, Delilah.”

She blushes. Her smile was crooked, and her cheeks pink. “You too~!”

Before you go back upstairs, you sigh and turn around, stopping Delilah before she can get behind the counter. “If anything is bothering you, Delilah…please tell me. I want to help you in any way I can.”

Delilah makes a weird noise. “Of course.”

“Really. I mean it.”

She puckers her lips to one side. “Thanks.”

“Delilah…”

She shakes her head. “I will…”

You both stare at each other, and when she doesn’t break, you decide you’ll tackle the subject another time…

…

…

Your eyes flutter as you’re unintentionally drawn out of sleep. You wiggle around your sheets and stare at the ceiling. You flip and turn a few times and suddenly feel homesick. You can’t help but wonder what everyone was doing in your hometown. Was your hometown even still around? Or was burned down for some reason? And if not, how many of the original residents remained? People filter in and out constantly, either in search of something better or to get away from the daily routine that becomes redundant drags. And…

You push off the covers and swing your legs off the bed. You were getting too emotional and worked up about your decisions. You mutter something under your breath, something to the degree of “what is done is done” or “can’t change it now,” which doesn’t make you feel any better. Arabella rolls over and takes your spot on the bed, soaking up your lingering heat like a sponge in water. Before leaving, you get off the bed, put a jacket on, and slip on some shoes.

Once the door is shut behind you, you feel alone but quite at peace. You stroll down the hallway, and all is silent for a few steps, but a sound builds and rolls down the corridor that only grows more powerful the further you get from the rooms. It’s a piano, rolling with heartfelt notes and carefully played keys. The player, a phantom of the music being produced, is. Your ears dialed into the beautiful noise echoing from the lobby of Tiny’s Tavern.

You creep along the hallway, tip-toeing as if the slightest sound would disrupt the player’s concentration and ruin the song. The light keys turn bitter and slow, deep and meaningful. It's filled with unsureness and definite heartbreak. There's no light or joy in the pressed keys. It leads to dim memories that have regret, worry, and worse. You wonder if the song is meant to sound this way at first, but the longer you baste in the echoes, the less you consider this.

You scan the lobby at the base of the stairs and find it vacant—no one on the stools, an empty bar, and tables without guests. Yet, the keys are still tickled, introducing a new song with a different taste. The beginning is soft, light, and alluring. It then steps into a steady beat of wonder. It flatters before it lifts however, making the world around you seem silent. You descend the steps, going down to find the player as they mindlessly bring you closer as they struggle to find what they are looking for.

The pianist sighs. You find Delilah with her back turned, unaware of your presence. Before you can say anything, she brings her fingers back to the keys and tries for something else. A gentle song takes place, more hopeful than the last this time. There’s energy in this one, too, maybe a little more **** than the previous, but you can tell she’s enjoying it as her head sways lightly with every stroke that is put down. You fold your fingers over a chair and listen, relaxing to the sound of every note that echoes and reverberates in the room. You smile and then think, you’ve heard this song before but only sang…

You step into the carpeted area and sit, listening to the hobby she was so humble about. The sense of **** energy fades. It’s replaced with a melancholy characteristic. Distant memories stuck on repeat with surreal landscapes flash dimly in your head while her nameless song continues. It’s sweet, magical, personal, and honest. And it fills the otherwise empty room with human emotion.

That song, too, however, dwindles out of character. It switches to something so intimate that it feels like you’re almost invading Delilah’s space. Just a few strings are struck at first, but they strike without warning and then are joined with another hand which supplies a rapid supply of deeper struck strings. Too much of what Delilah is feeling is bled into keys. You can’t read all of it, but watching her from the back, you realize she’s directionless— her song speeds and opens up gaps, the passion is mixed with raw emotion, she hunches over, and then…The song stopped as fast as the music started, leaving you and Delilah genuinely alone…

How many seconds pass in silence? You didn’t count them, but your ears perked at quiet sobs. Then, finally, your eyes shoot up and see Delilah as she bobs slightly. You stand up and swallow. The concern comes over you, and you consider what to do. “Delilah?”

Delilah tenses, but thankfully she doesn’t scream or jump…. She doesn’t turn around either. “How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “But, you’re amazing.”

She still refuses to look back, but you can hear her chuckle. “Dankeschön, Herr Visser.”

“Gern geschehen, Frau Schulz," your Germans rolls out with imperfections and it accented so horribly it sounds like mispronounced English.

She turns around, letting you see her usual rosy complexion damp with tears and deep, nearly ruined makeup. “Can you hug me?”

Delilah has her fingers clenching the fabric of her dress. “What’s wrong?” You ask her while you advance.

She closes her eyes and folds into your embrace. “I hate it here. I want to go home so badly, but I don’t think my family will take me back in. I’m so embarrassed. I’m so dumb.”

“It’s OK,” you tell her. She hugs you tighter and sobs louder. “Hey, hey, hey. You’re going to be alright. I'm here for you, baby.”

“Don’t let me go. I’m scared of being alone. I’m so scared. Don’t let me go, not yet, please.” Delilah is hanging on to you so tightly that you can feel your breath squeezed from your body.

“I’m here,” you promise. “I’m here…”

… “Do you want to talk about it?”

Delilah shakes her head. “I don’t want you to think I’m… anything less.”

“I would never think of you as anything less,” you’re almost offended. “I love you too much to mistreat you like that.”

Delilah gasps and begins crying. You’ve heard people cry before, but listening to Delilah break down made your eyes water. You held her close and rested your chin on her head. “I’m here for you. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

“I’m so lonely, Warren. I don’t want to lose you. But I’m scared I'll only push you away if I show how I really am. I’m not happy. I’m not cheerful. I’m not perfect and certainly not your best option!” Delilah grips you harder. “I’m scared. I’m so scared that I’m going to screw this up like I’ve screwed everything else up! I’m selfish and rude! I want you for myself! But God damnit, I don’t know why but I can’t– I can’t trust you for some reason!!”

Women in your life have grown attached to you, but this is different. The girl in your arms feels fragile, so fragile you know she’s experienced being broken already. You just hold her. “I love you, Delilah. That’s all I can say to you. I love you.”

Delilah used every ounce of her strength to hold onto you. She sobbed and choked. “I love you, too! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ve been lying to you!! I can’t bare–“

She stops herself. “I’m not even worthy of being your girlfriend, lead alone your wife. I can’t have any children! We couldn’t have any kids together if we wanted. So I'll never have my own baby. My daughter or son! How can I express my love if I can’t bare your babies?”

The concept to you for a moment seemed a little silly. You scoffed and blinked away the tears, pushing her back to look at Delilah. She’s a mess. Snot and runny makeup. Heartbroken and lost in this chaotic show of emotional distress. “We— we’d adopt!”

Delilah’s face wrinkled. “It wouldn’t be the same. I want kids. I want to have kids! Your kids! My mom always said that was the perfect expression of true love. The bond that kept families together, a symbol of-of true love!”

She started to fall. You lowered yourself to the floor with her. She sat down on the carpet, too embarrassed to say anything more. You still held her hand, though. “You know why I don’t drink much? I get too emotional, and I spill my guts out. My family hates me– hates me because I didn’t want to help with their business. I was blackmailed by one of the boys in my village. My brothers left, and my sister was vastly better at everything. My dad is…my mom is… God, listen to me… they were right… I’m fucking useless. I’m more worthless than the dirt you walk on. Now I’m telling all of this as if you—“

“I do care. Haven’t you been listening to me? I love you, Delilah. No matter what makes you imperfect or whatever physical problem you have. Everything about is… is what I need,” you hold her face and bring her close. “Fuck your family. The things they’ve said and the boy that tricked you. Fuck all of them. We have each other now. We can do something new with each other!”