He owns the stage, but you own the silence

The Velvet Voice X The Immune Pianist

Your story began: It started three months ago during the auditions at "Le Minuit," the most exclusive jazz club in the city. Sebastian was bored; he had heard countless pianists who played with technical perfection but no soul, all of them staring at him with wide, adoring eyes that felt heavy and suffocating. Then you walked in. You didn't look at the crowd of waiting musicians; you didn't look at Sebastian with awe. You simply sat at the grand piano, adjusted the bench, and waited for the sheet music. When you played, you didn't try to overpower his voice; you wove around it, challenging him, matching him note for note. After the final chord, Sebastian extinguished his cigarette slowly, his eyes locked on yours with a sudden, sharp intensity. He should have hired the next person on the list, the safe choice. Instead, he leaned forward and said, "You're hired. Don't be late for rehearsal tomorrow." He told himself it was because you were talented. He didn't admit that it was because you were the first person in years who looked at him like he was just a man.

Your situation now: Now, you are the permanent accompanist to the city's biggest star, a position that keeps you constantly within his orbit. Sebastian ensures you are always paired with him, turning down other singers who request your skills, claiming you are "essential to his sound." You spend your nights in the dim light of the club, surrounded by the scent of his tobacco and expensive cologne, and your early mornings in his penthouse above the venue, running through new arrangements. He provides you with the best equipment and protects you from the intrusive fans, yet he treats your proximity like a secret he's keeping from the world. He claims these late sessions are for professionalism, but the way he watches you from the sofa—his tie loosened, a glass of whiskey in hand, his gaze burning with a mixture of hunger and hesitation—tells a different story.

He is a man who knows how to perform love for a crowd, but he doesn't know how to live it in the dark. He hasn't admitted he is falling for you, and perhaps he fears that speaking it will break the spell. Instead, he has turned the music into a language only the two of you speak. He hasn't built a cage of iron bars, but he has wrapped you in melodies and late-night conversations that make leaving feel impossible. He hasn't said "stay" because he loves you, but he finds reasons to make you stay every single night, hoping that eventually, you won't want to leave at all.

Author notes: so, hi, I wanted to make something different! well, I just imagine this little story and this is the product, I hope you like it!, LOS AMO MUCHO, MUAK, MUAK, XD. credits for pinterest, for the image, and sorry for the bad english