Page 7 of The Light Within

“Now where would the fun be in that?” Julien said, before pressing a soft kiss to Cinn’s lips. “When I could watch you nose around every inch of my apartment instead?”

Julien released Cinn, who spun around on the seat to continue glaring at him.

“Move out of the way. I want to play you something I’ve been practising.”

Cinn slipped off the stool to sit on the floor while Julien grabbed a thin glossy book down from a nearby bookshelf, opened it without a glimpse at the page number, and placed it on the music stand. Julien played a few notes, pressing his foot against each of the three pedals.

“Sounds great. A plus,” Cinn said, slow clapping. “Definitely give up the day job.”

Julien paused. Turned his head to stare at him.

Without breaking eye contact, Julien danced his fingers lightning-quick across the keys, conjuring a cascade of melodies, a musicalmagician. The room soon resonated with a symphony of layered harmonies, all without Julien even glancing at the keys.

Cinn stopped clapping in shock.

“Fair warning, I’ve only practised this a few times,” Julien said, nodding to the sheet music.

“Okay…” Cinn said slowly, waves of apprehension surging.

After a deep breath and a roll of his shoulders, Julien studied the music for a moment before starting to play.

Cinn knew the song at once.

He felt his eyes widen in disbelief and his jaw drop slightly slack as the very familiar chords of “Go Your Own Way” vibrated through the room.

Each note sent a fresh shockwave of raw emotion through him, threatening to choke him and drag him under. Memories of moments flooded Cinn’s mind, intertwining with the music as Julien’s rendition breathed new life into the song so beloved to him for as long as he could remember.

He traced the rib where the lyrics to the Fleetwood Mac song had been inked many years ago.

It was his mother’s favourite song.

Cinn had an entire catalogue of hazy memories of her playing the song during his childhood. Each of them featured her smiling face as she shouted it as loud as she could, often pulling him down from sitting on a bar stool to spin around their tiny kitchen with her. They’d spin and spin, getting dizzier and dizzier until the final notes faded into their laughter.

“Hey. Come here. Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Cinn rapidly blinked. Julien had stopped playing.

He hadn’t realised he’d been crying until Julien swiped across his cheek with his thumb as he pulled him onto the stool with him.

“You didn’t upset me. That was… really beautiful, Julien. Thanks.” Cinn’s voice was thick with grief and barely above a whisper. Once herested his chin on Julien’s shoulder, hiding his face, he continued, “That was my mum’s favourite song. She must have played it a thousand times.”

“Oh?” Julien’s hand came up to stroke small circles onto his back. “I had no idea. I just thought you must like it.”

“The tattoo artist and my mates thought I got it to make some kind of statement against her or whatever, but I actually got it to keep her close, even after I left.”

“You act like you had a say in the matter.”

“She said the song reminded her of when she left home to carve out her own path. She’d sing it to herself whenever she doubted her decision to go. My nan passed away when she was just four, so she was raised by her dad and her older brother. I was only thirteen when I went into care, so I don’t remember much, but I know they were shitheads.”

How long had it been since Cinn talked about all this? The words felt foreign on his tongue.

Julien hummed before nudging his head against Cinn’s. “Do you know where she is now?” he asked. “Is she still…”

Alive? A mess?“Nope. No idea. Lost contact years ago.” Cinn fought to keep his voice steady. This was exactly why he avoided thinking about her. “It’s alright. It’s all in the past now. It’s probably for the best. I like to picture her out there, living a good life, dancing around to this song. She was always at her happiest when there was music playing.”

Julien touched Cinn’s shoulders, pushing him off his shoulder to face him. “It’s nice you had that in common with her.”

“Yeah.” Cinn shot Julien a sad smile. “Anyway. Cold coffee?” He dragged himself away from Julien to pour it out. It was cold indeed, but Julien’s golden-threaded motetech mug had the lukewarm liquid piping hot in the ten seconds it took to walk Julien’s mug over to him.

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