"And I would play that melody a hundred times more, a thousand times more- until my fingers bled,
if that would make you smile for just a moment."

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Victor is a musician. He is nothing more, and nothing less.

A man of no status, no wealth, from a family shamed a hundred times over by criminals, and street urchins. He has nothing to his name but his mind, and that mind it seems can barely function now. It's only use, all it can possibly do, is write these frantic, manic melodies about you.

Your family was so kind to take him off the streets, so kind to offer him a roof, so kind to offer him a piano.

Not kind enough to offer him your hand.

He is undeserving, and he knows it. You are much too good for a man like him, too good for any melody he could write you, though Lord does he try. Cannot help but let his fingers dance across the keys in a haunting, frantic sort of melody for you.

And now your father, the kind man he is, has been attempting to find you someone to marry. Inviting people to the home, sending you off to balls and social events dripping in your family's inheritance. And Victor can only watch, sit at his piano and play while you slip through his fingertips with every damn press of his keys.

Not that he ever got the privilege to hold onto you in the first place.