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It was on one of his late night walks that he heard it, a sound that at first startled him in its unfamiliarity and then aroused his curiosity as he placed it. Or at least he thought he knew what it was. Brow furrowed in interest, Shiro lightened his steps a little as he approached Simon’s living quarters.
The others were all grouped relatively close to one another, with quick access to the hangars by a slide contraption that Hunk swore was put in just to make him miserable. Lance, of course, used it far more often than necessary and Shiro was surprised he would go through the trouble of adding that distance to his morning walk to breakfast. But it was Lance, and it made him happy. Even Shiro’s quarters were near the rest of the paladins. Simon, however, had taken up residence just across from the big doors of the main hangar. It’s where they had been living when they stowed away, and aside from a few comfort adjustments, they had decided to leave things mostly as they were. They liked the solitude, or so they said.
Shiro was close enough now that he could confirm his guess; the sound was that of a piano. It had a strange din to it that suggested it wasn’t made out of what typical pianos were, but it was close enough that he could pick it out. And soft enough that when a voice was added to the tune, his eyes widened as it reached him.
“Perhaps love is like a window, perhaps an open door…it invites you to come closer, it wants to show you more..”
Shiro stood, entranced by the sound. The song sounded almost like a lullaby beneath the fingers that played it – not perfect, but heartfelt. Their voice was quiet, so much so that as the music built beneath it, Shiro had to strain to hear.
“And some say love is holding on, and some say letting go. And some say love is everything…some say, they don’t know.”
Their voice broke a little as the music paused. Then ceased. Shiro heard a sigh, and then the tell-tale tinking of metal that indicated Simon had stopped playing in order to tweak something. With a light cough, Shiro raised a hand and knocked loudly on the wall beside their door, slowly poking his head around the corner.
Simon’s head snapped up, tousled hair bouncing a little. “Shiro?” they sniffed, ducking their head to hide the blush they always got around him. “Hey – sorry, did I wake you?” Simon gestured at the contraption sitting in their lap.
“Simon, you would have to have quite the speaker set up and some percussion before you risked waking me – I’m five floors up with the others.” He stepped into the open doorway and crossed his arms. “How did you make that?”
Simon glanced at their machine, their shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “There was some piping in the hangar that wasn’t being used, and when I knocked it over yesterday…” they shrugged, “it sounded like home.” They continued to stare at it for a moment, then seemed to come to themselves, shaking their head. “Did you need something?”
Shiro shrugged, “Not really. But I figured if we were both up we could keep each other company.” He smiled, “Unless you’d rather be alone?”
“No, no!” Simon protested, pushing their piano off to the side. “Not at all, you’re always welcome.” Simon watched him carefully as he entered the room, taking the seat in front of what was supposed to be their desk. The surface of the desk was covered in rock samples Simon had collected back on the planet the castle had been on when they’d arrived. Shiro looked them over, gently picking one particularly shiny one up and twisting it so it glittered in the light. Simon smiled as the rays lit Shiro’s face, but their expression faded to concern at the dark bags beneath his eyes.
“Shiro?”
“Hm?”
“Are you alright?” Simon tilted their head to the side, biting their lip.
“Huh?” Shiro’s gaze turned to them as he blinked. “I – yeah, I’m good – why do you ask?” He gave them a reassuring smile, but it faltered and he looked away.
Simon’s heart lurched in their chest at the sight. They wanted to get up, to give him the comfort they could see he needed, but hesitated; what if he didn’t want it from them? “Really?” they settled for being a little stern. “Because from the looks of it you haven’t slept in days, and I’m willing to bet Hunk gave you shit for not finishing your dinner tonight. I also heard Keith scored a blow on you in sparring.” Simon raised an eyebrow, “Should I continue? Because it is the middle of the night, and here you sit. You’ve had better days.”
Shiro stared, then sighed, dropping his head into his hands. The white tuft was shoved between his fingers, sticking out in every direction. Simon resisted the urge to reach out again. “Talk to me, Shiro. If there’s anyone on this ship you can talk to, I promise it’s me.” As they watched, a slight tremor ran through Shiro’s shoulders. He looked at them through his hair, his eyes shining with tears.
“Please?” it was all he could manage.
Simon was up and over to him in seconds, arms wrapped around him, letting him bury his face in their shoulder. Luckily he was sitting, or it never would have worked. Simon almost laughed at the thought. As he leaned into them, Simon could barely breath their heart hammered so fast in their chest. Stroking Shiro’s hair, they tried to stay focused on him, and not the way they wanted to melt into him just as he was doing.
“Simon?” his voice was muffled, so they pulled back a little, looking into his face and trying to project warmth and understanding.
“Yeah?”
“Play for me?”
Simon froze, trying not to let their emotions show. They glanced at the thrown together piano, with barely enough keys to play a full song. Their throat went dry and they took a deep breath. “I-If that’s what you want, I’d be happy to.” They smiled. Moving back to the bed, they pulled the contraption into their lap and faced Shiro. “I’m not very good,” they warned, shaking their hands out to try and control the sudden trembling that was running through their veins.
“Liar,” Shiro countered with a smile, scooting his chair closer to the bed.
“I knew you were out there,” they responded accusingly, the first few notes rising as they set their hands in place.
“Does it matter?” he asked, “It’s soothing. I didn’t even know you played.”
Simon shrugged, letting themselves feel the music, rather than playing any particular song. “Not exactly something that comes up on the outskirts of the universe. But if it helps, I’m glad.”
Shiro leaned back in the chair, propping his feet up next to them on the bed, and closed his eyes. “It does,” he sighed. “With everything going on, something like this is…grounding.”
“Feeling a bit adrift?” Simon asked, suddenly realizing that they weren’t stumbling over the keys as the usually did when they spoke and played. There was something about speaking to Shiro that just felt…natural.
“Mm,” Shiro nodded.
“Remind me not to loan you any of my music,” they grinned, “you’ll suddenly remember what good stuff sounds like and I’ll be out of a night gig.”
“What was that you were singing, before I came in?”
Now Simon’s hands did stutter. They almost stopped, but the relaxed set of Shiro’s face, and his closed eyes, made them continue.
“It’s called Perhaps Love, by John Denver. One of my dad’s favorites…though he always liked it faster paced. I’ve always thought of it more as a – ”
“ – lullaby?” Shiro asked.
“Yeah.” Simon bit their lip, trying not to let their own emotions overtake the calm that Shiro was experiencing.
“Sing it for me?”
Simon stopped playing. Shiro’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked at them, frowning. “Everything okay?” He watched as they looked away, the telltale sign they were going to lie. “Simon, you don’t have to – I didn’t…look, you don’t have to.”
The silence stretched between them, Simon’s hands fidgeting in their lap as they seemed to fight some internal battle. Shiro couldn’t tell which side was winning.
Taking a deep breath, Simon closed their eyes, and gently set their hands upon the piano. Shiro watched in fascination as they took a moment to relax each muscle in their arms, but were unable to stop the slight tremor of their hands. He held his breath, unsure if they would follow through or if he had pushed too hard.
“Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm…it exists to give you comfort, it is there to keep you warm, and in those times of trouble, when you are most alone…the memory of love will bring you home…” Simon’s voice was soft, and he was sure the vibrato was mostly their nerves, but to him it sounded incredible. Slowly, so as not to startle them, Shiro slid off of the chair and onto the floor, resting his arms on the bed, and his head in his arms, as he closed his eyes and listened.
“Perhaps love is like a window, perhaps an open door, it invites you to come closer…it wants to show you more, and even if you lose yourself and don’t know what to do…the memory of love will see you through.”
Simon breathed in, their volume rising as they reached the bridge, and Shiro found his heart aching with the feeling behind their words.
“Oh, love to some is like a cloud, to some as strong as steel. For some a way of living, for some a way to feel. And some say love is holding on, and some say letting go. And some say love is everything, some say they don’t know…”
Shiro sighed as that line faded, his head feeling heavy atop his arms. Simon’s voice dropped back down to nearly a whisper.
“Perhaps love is like the ocean, full of conflict, full of pain. Like a fire when it’s cold outside, thunder when it rains…” they opened their eyes to gaze down at the fast asleep Shiro.
“If I should live forever…and all my dreams come true…my memories of love will be of you…” As the last chord faded from beneath their fingers, Simon reached out, brushing the white tuft of hair out of Shiro’s eyes with shaking hands.
“I wish,” they whispered.