Theme: Seven Deadly Sins – Sloth
Rating: NC17 overall
Summary: About decisions, right and wrong, and the path they build.
Thanks a lot to Anne for the beta.
I sit at the bar and watch them play. The band is a trio: Del, Quatre and a base player. Quatre's hair is still wet and now and then a drop of water falls on his face. His hands are busy so he rubs his cheek on his shoulder, and keeps playing as if nothing happened.
I order another drink; vodka on the rocks. I sip it slowly, watching Quatre, and listening to the music. When I left the circus, Catherine said she would send me and Quatre an invitation. I never said I was leaving but she knew. She knew I was going to Quatre and that when I found him, I would stay.
But, he doesn't want me to. He doesn't want me to give up my life for him, and I can't ask him to come with me, not when he's clearly so comfortable, when he has finally found himself.
"You know what you have to do." A black man, looking about sixty, refills my drink. I frown. He isn't the bartender. "And you don't seem the kind to be afraid. So why don't you?"
"Who are you?"
He extends his hand. "My name is George and I own this joint." I take it and he gestures towards Quatre with his head. "He's a good kid. I can tell he's been waiting for someone." He gives me a look. "Is that you?"
I nod and take a sip of my vodka.
"If you are here, then why is he still waiting?" He shakes his head slowly. "It ain't good to be lazy, boy, especially lazy to do something for love. My mama, God rest her soul, used to say sloth is the mother of all vices."
I look back at Quatre. His gaze settles on me for a moment and he smiles. "Is this the whole band?" I ask.
"It is now." He gestures at his throat. "Too much smoking. I don't have the pipes anymore." He bends over and then places a gold saxophone on the counter. "I keep it here 'cause maybe one day there'll be a young man willing to play it."
My fingers trail over the cool metal, testing the keys.
"Can you play, boy?"
I nod once.
"Are you any good?"
I nod again.
"Then what are you waiting for? You don't seem like the lazy type. Go and do something, boy. Ain't you tired of watching?"
I take the sax and walk to the side of the stage. Quatre is watching me. I bring the instrument slowly to my lips and Quatre starts playing softer. He's waiting.
It is easy to play with him. It always has been. I give him one look before I close my eyes; let the music speak for me, give him the answer that he's waiting for. I tell him everything I can't say and I know he understands.
He replies, the piano blending smoothly with the sax, a tune where each instrument makes a distinct sound, plays a different melody, but merges perfectly together.
I open my eyes and see him looking at me. He has his answer, and it's the right one.