Nimble fingers plucked repeatedly at the strings on the golden harp, creating beautiful melodies that floated through the air to grace Yifan’s ears. It was mesmerizing, the way the way the male before him played with his wide eyes closed, pink, kissable lips parted and jaw slack with relaxation, and every now and then swayed his dark head to the melody.

It is not simply playing music that’s written across a sheet of paper, but a story composed by passion and the soul of the one before him. Yifan tells himself that he wants to know this story, to understand how easily, so enthusiastically he manipulates the strings of the instrument to create something that literally has him rooted to the ground. Thus, when later, the musician’s fingers finally slows to a stop, and his head comes up from it’s tilted position and the dark eyes open to lock straight with Yifan’s, that the latter finds himself at lost for words.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The voice quietly asks, a small smile working its way up the other’s lips, and he finds his lips mirroring the action.

“It is. Really,” Awkward laughter sounded from his mouth, raising his right hand to run his fingers through his hair in a practiced movement that he often finds himself performing when at a loss. “it was… just wow.” Pleasant laughter ripples through the male’s lips as he pushes his form up from his seat and moves so he is now only a few feet from Yifan.

“I know. The sound, the feeling, it just captures you, doesn’t it?” Pure delight graces the dark haired male’s face, shaking his head in exasperation. “I tend to get absorbed in it.” The smile only seems to grow.

-//-

And lost Zitao certainly seemed to get when he played. After exchanging names, a few laughs and eventually their numbers, Yifan slowly became a regular in the small practice room, leaning up against the doorframe and getting pulled into the wondrous world of Tao.

“You know Yifan,” The younger mused, raising a brow from where he typically sat behind his harp, slowing down his song to only a few soft cords. “You don’t have to stand at the door every night. There are chairs in the closet.” A small dip of his head pointed to the direction of closet, fingers never taking a break.

“I’m fine right here.” Yifan replied, a small playful pout forming on his lips as he crossed his arms across his chest and continued his leaning. Amused with the way Zitao exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, laughter spilled from his mouth to mingle in with the melody of the harp.

“Come sit with me then.” Came the reply, causing the elder to choke on his laughter, doubling over slightly. When Yifan straightened back up, Zitao was looking straight into his eyes, face completely serious. “Seriously, come on Yifan. I’ll teach you to play.” I’ll teach you to play-

Slowly, almost as he was unsure of himself, Yifan crossed the room, and upon reaching Zitao, the younger drew his piece to a close, and scooted as far back on the stool as he possibly could. “Sit in front of me.” He then patted the rustic red of the plush covering between his thighs.

“Are you sure?” He asked, eyes wide as he slowly took in the mere size of the harp, having never ventured into the room before, and was amazed at the beautiful, almost microscopic details added into the dark polished wood. He reached out, hand ever so gently reaching out to touch the top, gliding alon