Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kris and Adam had been downtown shopping; well, Adam had been shopping, Kris had just been getting some much needed sun. His boyfriend had told him he was spending too much time inside. Adam made some comment about there being room for only one pale faced dude in their relationship. Adam had gone into a lot of stores but surprisingly was bringing very little home at the end of the day.

Kris had been working relentlessly on his songwriting. He performed regularly at area clubs and prided himself on using original material. Lately, though, he’d gotten writer’s block and the notes and lyrics were eluding him. Adam had tried many times to get him out of their apartment and Kris declined, saying his breakthrough hit was just there at his fingertips and if he stopped now, it’d be gone.

However, when his frustration got to the point where he contemplated smashing his beloved guitar, he realized it was time to go. Adam was pleasantly surprised when Kris suggested they go out this time. They waited long enough for Adam to touch up his eyeliner then were off.

Passing by a second hand store, Kris’ eyes fell on something through the cluttered front window. The shop was dim but this item seemed to glow, drawing him in.

“Hey, hold on sec,” Kris commenting, catching Adam by the elbow and making him stop.

“What? A sale?” Adam asked hopefully, searching for a big red sign.

“Nope, but it’s an answer to my prayers.”

The aisles were so narrow and overloaded that Kris had to shimmy sideways to get to the object of his desire. There, at the back, loaded down with boxes and other bits of junk, was an old upright piano. The finish was worn to a dull grayish brown and covered in nicks and dings from clumsy movers. Kris moved the boxes off the bench and slid in, almost falling off the other side. It was slippery smooth from years of use and the center was indented by hours of bum sitting. Lifting the cover off the keys, he noticed they too hadn’t escaped the ravages of time. The real ivory was yellowed and chipped and they felt a bit tacky from years of grime.

“Kris, I know you wanted a piano but I thought you were considering an electric one or a baby grand.”

“It’s an antique Adam; isn’t it beautiful?” Kris asked, running his hands over it.

“Baby…its junk, I’m sorry. I bet it’s so out of tune, it’ll cost a small fortune to get it sounding right and you don’t have a small fortune.”

Stretching and arching his fingers, Kris started playing a slow melody and the music that came back at him was perfect. He stopped abruptly, turned in his seat and smiled up at his boyfriend.

Adam sneered. “Okay, I concede it sounds great but it doesn’t go with my décor.”

“It’ll look fine in OUR décor.” Kris got up and charged towards the cashier’s counter. “I’m buying it.”

~~*~~

Adam stood, out of the way, as the movers brought the piano in; Kris directed their every move like a cop directing traffic. The store owner knew some guys who could bring it tomorrow but Kris insisted on having it tonight. It turned out they were willing to move it tonight – at twice their fee. Adam said ‘no’ but was vetoed by Kris since it was his piano.

Something was off, and it was driving Adam nuts that he couldn’t put his finger on it. The movers left and before they shut the door behind them, Kris was already dusting the relic off, polishing what varnish was left on it, and treating the inanimate object like a newborn. He took an afghan off the couch, one that had belonged to Adam’s nanna, draped it over the top, and topped it with stacks of blank sheet music and notebooks and pencils.

“Well, now that the piano’s settled in and comfy cozy, how about some dinner. My turn to cook,” Adam commented, shaking off the weird vibe that now inhabited their apartment and heading for the kitchen. “Chicken, steak, pasta?”

Kris sat on the bench, staring at the keys. “Not hungry. Maybe later.”

“Oooookay then, I guess I’ll make myself a salad.”

A run of notes floated through the living room, pretty but not really what you’d call a melody. Adam made his salad and sat by himself at the kitchen table, feeling like a third wheel. He swore if Kris wanted to sleep with that thing, Adam was out of there.

Several hours later, Adam was in bed, waiting to make love to his sexy hot boyfriend and said sexy hot boyfriend was still caressing the ivories in the living room. Kris had been at it for nearly five hours, without a break. Adam slipped out of bed, threw on a robe, a padded barefoot into the living room.

He would swear his boyfriend was still in the same position. The tune, at least, now sounded like something and it was pretty good, had a bit of an old sound to it. Adam rested his hands on Kris’ shoulders and massaged.

“Baby, its bedtime.”

“Few more minutes,” Kris muttered, writing down some notes in the empty musical bars.

“I’m getting lonely.” Adam pressed his body against the other man’s back, running a hand down his chest.

“Adam, please. I’ve finally got something. Five more minutes, I promise.”

Adam huffed and went back to bed. He had no clue when, or if, Kris came to bed, as he got bored and fell asleep.

~~*~~

The minute Kris laid his hands on that instrument, he felt down to his core that it needed to belong to him. He didn’t care how much money it cost, he had to have it – he had to have it now.

He sat in the back of the van with it. It had been covered and tied down so not even a tornado could shift it but Kris had to be sure, he had to be sure his treasure was safe.

Thankfully, their apartment building had a freight elevator. The thought of it being laboriously lifted one step at a time up to the ninth floor made him shake. Once it was displayed in its corner, away from doors and windows so he wouldn’t be distracted from the music, he lovingly cleaned it, polished it and covered it. That little corner of their apartment was his shrine to music. He stole a glance at his guitar and took a step towards it, intending on displaying it on its stand beside his newest acquisition. Before he could go any further, he felt himself drawn back to the piano. He’d been killing himself on the guitar for weeks trying to create and nothing happened. Maybe it was best to set it aside for a while and try another approach, see what magic he could glean from the grand old gal.

Taking his place before it, he touched the ivories and felt the tunes flow into him. He plucked at the keys randomly, giving each note its chance to sing a solo, and then he coaxed them into working together and a song was born. He vaguely recalled Adam asking him if he wanted dinner but he was full – music was feeding his soul and that was all he needed. Sometime later, he wasn’t sure when but it must have been late, Adam’s hand touched his skin, stroking and caressing him. Kris stroked and caressed the piano keys. Finally, a song had come to him and he just had to keep working until it was done. Adam had left him to his song and Kris chewed on the pencil between his teeth, playing the notes over and over again until he was satisfied.

The sun was warming the morning skies when he was satisfied with his work. He got up, stretched, dug through the kitchen for something to eat and drink and sat at the kitchen table. He ate his cereal, sipped his orange juice, but his mind was on the piano. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to stop. If the music was coming more easily to him now, he should strike while the iron’s hot. Leaving his breakfast on the table, he went back to the piano and with a fresh music sheet and a newly sharpened pencil, he got back to work.

~~*~~

Adam awoke to the twanging ivories. He buried his head under the pillow and groaned. He surfaced eventually, noting the time. He had to go to work. Singing was his passion but at this point it didn’t pay the bills so he sang a few nights a week and on weekends and worked a nine to five job at a local music store. He crawled out of bed, got into the shower, and then got dressed before grabbing some breakfast.

He found the half empty bowl of Cheerios and the full glass on the table. He wandered into the living room; Kris was right where he’d left him.

“Did you get any rest last night?” Adam asked, crouching down and picking crumpled paper balls up off the floor.

“I took a break,” his boyfriend replied absentmindedly.

“How long of a break?”

“Don’t remember.” Kris spun around on his seat, a big adorable grin on his face. “I finally finished a song Addy. And I think it’s really good. Wanna listen?”

Adam found it really hard to stay mad at him. He cupped Kris’ cheek and kissed him. “Lay it on me.”

Kris scooted over and Adam sat beside him on the bench. The seat was hot and Adam felt uncomfortable. He smiled on through Kris’ song.

“Well?”

“I think its one of the best things you’ve written. But I’m biased, I love everything you do.”

“I know. Where are you going?”

“To work.”

“Work? Is it that time already?”

“Yeah, and don’t you have a meeting to get to yourself?”

Kris was working with an advertising agency as a free lance jingle writer. He worked at home a lot but he did have meetings at the agency now and then. Today was one of those days.

“This afternoon, yeah.” He got up and looked at the piano longingly, sighing. “I suppose I should take a nap and shower so I don’t look like a bum.”

Adam patted Kris’ backside. “It is a cute little bum and those stuffed shirts don’t appreciate it.” Adam got up and gave him a proper good morning kiss. “I’ll be home for dinner then we can go to the Biway.” Adam had a performance tonight.

“Can’t wait. Love you Addy.”

“Love you too.”

~~*~~

The door opened and Kris stole a quick glance. Adam was coming in, looking tired.

“I thought you were going to work?” Kris asked, turning back to his music.

“I’ve been at work all day. You don’t look like you’ve budged since I left.”

Kris felt heat rising to his cheeks. He bit his tongue and did something he’d never done before – he lied to Adam.

“I’ve budged.”

His boyfriend collapsed on the couch. “How’d the meeting go?”

“Um…fine.”

A black eyebrow arched. “Baby?”

Kris huffed and turned around. “Okay, I didn’t go. The meeting was rescheduled.”

“Why?”

He turned back to the piano, lightly touching the keys. “I … ah … wasn’t feeling good so I called and asked them to.”

Kris heard Adam get up and moments later a gentle hand was touching his forehead. “You do feel a little warm. I hope you got some rest.”

“Yeah, yeah, I slept for a few hours then got bored so I decided to write some more,” Kris fibbed.

He’d had every intention of going to the meeting; he’d showered and got changed, grabbed his briefcase and was heading out the door when a new song idea came to mind. He stopped and jotted down the lyrics, telling himself he could work on the melody when he got home. Kris got as far as the elevator when the urge to compose just overtook him and he went back to their apartment. He called the agency, told them he was sick, throwing in some coughs for good measure, and asked them to reschedule for next week.

He’d never done anything like that before. He was always so honest and knew when to put a paycheck over creativity but this was different. Kris rationalized that since he’d had writer’s block for such a long time, that all the songs trapped in his brain just needed to time to be released then he’d go back to regular life.

“I guess you aren’t coming with me tonight then,” Adam stated.

“Guess not. I’m sorry.”

“Well, it can’t be helped.” Adam started walking away. “I have to get changed. I’ll grab a bite at the club.”

Kris heard the disappointment in Adam’s voice but he had to do what he had to do. He turned back to his music and continued.

~~*~~

Almost a week passed and Kris’ obsession with the piano didn’t lessen. In fact, it was getting worse. The only time Kris left the apartment was to buy more empty sheet music after he’d used his pad up. Even then, he was back in record time, panting heavily as if he’d run the three miles to the store and back. Adam tried unsuccessfully to get him to eat a decent meal or get some real sleep. The few times Adam actually got his boyfriend in bed, he had to physically hold onto him to keep him from rushing back to that instrument. Kris would moan and kick and pull away until Adam released his hold.

Adam ran out of pleas and resorted to tricks. He stuffed pillows into the top of the piano to mute the sound of the hammers on the strings. They were easily discovered. He prepared himself for a tirade from Kris; instead, his boyfriend just removed them and continued on. Next, when Kris’ body had forced him to use the bathroom, Adam shoved all the remaining blank sheet music into his messenger bag and left for work. At least a shopping trip would get him out of the house. Instead, when Adam came home, Kris had hand drawn musical bars on any sheet of paper he could find, including black marker on newsprint and pencil on paper towels.

At first, Kris was productive. He wrote ten new songs then everything after that sounded the same. Kris insisted it was a new song even if only one note was changed or one word. He got really defensive when Adam tried telling him he was having writer’s block again.

Now, it felt like Adam was living alone, sharing the space with a loud wooden box and robot stuck in gear.

Adam went back to the second hand store and asked about the piano – who owned it before, what was its history, where did it come from. All the sales clerk knew was it had been found in an old boarding house that was being torn down and one of the construction guys brought it in to be sold rather than destroyed. He handed Adam the guy’s phone number and Adam called. All the info he got was the address of the now empty lot.

When Adam got home, he left Kris to his obsession and grabbing his laptap, he locked himself in their bedroom and tried to learn more about the history of the building.

During the 1920s, it had been a boarding house for performers. Singers, actors, dancers, composers, song writers, musicians – if it performed, it had lived there. He didn’t recognize many of the names; obviously they didn’t make it big. Six songwriters had lived there over the 30 years it functioned as such. One of them died in his room, at his piano. He’d had big success with one or two songs but it went downhill from there. According to a news article, his landlady said he played that darn piano night and day, trying to churn out more music. Some songs had moderate success but he wouldn’t give up. He stopped sleeping and eating and in the end his body just gave out.

That room had been rented out a few times afterwards but the new residents either insisted on another room or left completely. No one ever said why but the landlady hinted sometimes late at night a piano could be heard playing and it was the only piano in the house. The room was closed up and never rented out again.

Adam closed his laptop and stared at the bedroom wall, like he had x-ray vision and could see Kris. Now he knew what the hell was happening.

Kris wasn’t obsessed – he was possessed – or at least the piano was. Adam had to get rid of it before it killed again.

~~*~~

Kris’s arms barely lifted but he had to keep playing, he had to keep writing. Lasting careers weren’t made on a single song and if he wanted riches and fame, he had to keep at it. His head lolled forward then snapped back into place. Warm hands touched his arms and Adam’s familiar scent seeped its way through his creative fog.

“C’mon baby, you need some sleep.”

Kris shook his head weakly. “N-no Addy, I have to finish this. I need another hit.”

He felt himself being carried. “Shhh, you need some sleep.” Kris floated through the air then felt the softness of the mattress and the warmth of the blankets. Lips kissed his forehead. “Rest. You can write later okay?”

His jaw cracked as he let out the yawns that had been trapped in his chest. Silently, he nodded and drifted off into a restless sleep where published music swirled around him like a tornado, taking him further and further away.

~~*~~

Adam locked the bedroom door. Now that Kris was safe, he had to get that instrument out of their apartment. He called the guys who moved it in but they couldn’t be there for a couple of hours. Adam decided he could at least get it into the hall and they could take it from there. If the other tenants complained, he’d tell them where to stick it.

Nothing messed with his baby.

Adam stood in front of the seemingly innocent piano. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and took a deep breathe.

“Okay whoever you are, I know what’s going on. Your drive for success killed you and you’re somehow living on in that musical coffin but I’m not letting you lead Kris down the same path. It’s time to go.”

He knew he didn’t have much time. When Kris did sleep these days, it didn’t last long, hence locking the bedroom door. Adam quickly removed everything that was piled on top, dropping it on the floor and then he took the bench out, leaving the door into the hallway open. When he stepped back into the room, he heard the air crack and his skin tingled like it does when your circulation comes back. He wouldn’t be deterred. Adam got hold of the piano and pulled. It was damn heavy and the wheels under it were rusty but he managed to shift it. Waves of nausea overcame him and he felt resistance. Swallowing the bile, he pulled again, gritting his teeth. He moved it a foot before he had to dash into the bathroom and throw up. Immediately, he went back and pulled again until there was enough space between the wall and the piano for him to slid in there and push.

The minute Adam wedged himself in, the piano took on a life of its own. It started playing some ragtime piece and pushed itself back into the corner, trapping Adam. He cried out as the pressure increased.

“Adam?” he heard faintly from the bedroom.

Adam growled, positioned his hands and with all the strength he had – and then some – he pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed, fighting the otherworldly force until the upright was in the hall and locked out of their apartment. Collapsing against the floor, he dry heaved. The electricity in the room was starting to abate and Adam thought that was that.

Not quite.

There was a pounding on the bedroom door. “Adam?! Adam???! What the hell! Let me out!”

Adam struggled to his feet and made his way over the bedroom door, carefully sidestepping the mess on the floor. He unlocked the door and Kris came out.

“Why did you….,” Kris stopped when he noticed the piano gone. He turned accusing eyes on his boyfriend. “Where is it?”

Adam felt like his brain was burning from Kris’ gaze. He stood tall and declared, “I got rid of it.”

Kris’ mouth worked up and down but nothing came out. His face got red and Adam could have sworn the air wavered around him. Adam took a step back.

“You … you had no right to do. It was mine,” Kris said, his voice low with suppressed rage. He clenched his fists and Adam took another step back. “Bring it back. Now.”

“No. There are things you don’t know about its history.”

“I don’t care about its history. I … want ... it … back … NOW!”

Adam had never been scared of Kris before but he was downright terrified at the moment. This wasn’t his Kris. This wasn’t the man he loved. This wasn’t the man who loved him. Adam didn’t know what Kris was right now but he knew there was something evil about him.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do that. You’ll just have to trust me.”

Suddenly Kris was on him, pounding him into the floor. His hands were around Adam’s neck and he was pressing against his windpipe. Adam frantically grabbed Kris’ hands, desperately trying to remove them. Kris had the strength of two men. Adam looked into Kris’ eyes; the pupils were blown and the white’s of his eyes had gone red. The voice coming out of him wasn’t his; it was the manic voice of the long dead songwriter.

“You can’t stop me! Don’t even try! I have to keep composing. Death tried to stop me and couldn’t do it. Some pathetic priss isn’t going to either!”

Adam could feel himself blacking out. He didn’t want to hurt Kris but he had to get him off so he could breathe. Adam made a fist and swung, catching Kris on the chin and sending him flying. Sitting up, Adam rubbed his throat, eyes tearing. He saw Kris lying on the floor across the room. He wasn’t knocked out, just stunned. Adam got to his knees, took off his belt and secured it around the other man’s wrists before attaching him to the leg of the couch.

Obviously keeping the piano in the hall was still too close. All Adam had to do was keep Kris at bay until he could get the piano out of the building. He asked the Universe for protection and left the apartment, facing the demon piano once more. To hell with the movers, it had to go now.

Adam moved it towards the freight elevator. He pushed it into the tight space and pressed the “G” button. Just before they closed, a freezing wind blew in and Adam knew he was trapped with the spirit.

The elevator was lit by a dim bulb. He shivered, feeling the presence, waiting for it to do something. When nothing happened, he figured the songwriter chose inhabiting the piano over inhabiting Kris. Adam worried how Kris was doing but he had to get rid of this damned thing first.

The doors opened on the parking garage and he laughed when he saw the moving truck.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here for two hours.”

“We had a cancellation.” One of the movers looked past him. “You got that down here yourself?”

“Yeah, and now I want it taken away…for good.”

The two movers got it in their van, secured it and shut the doors. “Where is it going?”

That was a good question. Adam hadn’t thought that far ahead. It wouldn’t sit right on his conscious to put it back out there where some other musician could fall prey to it. He got an idea; it was drastic but the only thing he could think of.

“Take it to the city dump.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer – and I’m coming with you.”

~~*~~

Kris woke up with a killer hangover. It must have been one hell of a party – too bad he didn’t remember it.

He tried moving his body but his limbs felt like dead weight. He had absolutely no energy and his thoughts were moving slower than molasses in January. He opened his eyes upon the dark bedroom. He felt the warmth beside him and reached out to touch Adam. Kris had absolutely no idea what time it was. Keeping the light off so he wouldn’t wake Adam, he headed for the kitchen. Suddenly he was ravenous, like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

Passing through the dark living room, his feet slid on something and he landed on his butt. Feeling around, he discovered the floor was covered in stuff. Getting back on his feet, he turned on the light and got the shock of his life.

The living room was a disaster area. Papers and pencils were scattered everywhere, one of the side tables was broken and at his feet, he saw Adam’s belt connected to the leg of the couch.

And the piano was gone.

Flashes of memory appeared before him - pounding on the bedroom door … yelling at Adam … choking Adam … flying through the air and hitting the floor hard … being tied down. He rubbed his chin; it was tender and sore.

Adam.

Oh Lord no, he attacked Adam.

Rushing back to the bedroom, he turned on that light too and froze. Adam was still asleep on the bed. His hands were blistered and a ring of finger shaped bruises circled his throat. Kris carefully crawled on the bed beside him, gently brushing his hair off his forehead. Another bruise showed up.

Adam opened his eyes and smiled. “Kris, is it really you in there?” he asked seriously, carding his fingers through the brown hair. Kris nodded and Adam reached up, drawing his boyfriend down on top of him, holding tight. “Thank Ra you’re alright.”

Kris couldn’t have gotten up, even if he wanted to. “Me? You’re the one that looks like he had the crap beaten out of him. I can’t believe I did this to you. Why did I do this to you?”

Adam told him an incredible tale about an obsessed songwriter long since dead and a possessed piano that had been controlling his life. Kris didn’t remember much of it. He remembered buying the piano, thinking he had to have it and composing his first song in ages and then the rest was a void.

It was probably for the best, Adam assured him. The fact that one of them remembered was more than enough. He gingerly touching Kris’ chin. “Good thing I didn’t have any rings on when I slugged you; could have caused a gash.”

Kris took his lover’s hand. “Addy, what happened to it?”

“I called the movers, the same ones who brought it here, and we took it to the city dump.”

“We?”

“Last place you ever expected to find me huh? I wanted to make sure it was destroyed. I think that spirit was attached to it so I hoped if I got rid of it for good, I’d get rid of him.”

“What if someone decides to use it?”

“Won’t happen. I asked them to put it in the trash compactor but they refused so I found a sledge hammer and compacted it myself.”

Kris sat up. “You smashed a piano? I’m impressed.”

“So were they,” Adam grinned. “I just had to make sure no one else could be hurt like you had.”

Kris’ fingers feathered over Adam’s bruises. “You’re the one that got hurt worse than me.”

“Let’s just say, we’ve both suffered. I’m glad to have you back.”

“Glad to be back.”

They cuddled, their love life another victim of the phantom songwriter. But right now they didn’t want sex, they wanted love.

There’s a corny platitude that claims ‘Love overcomes anything’. At this moment, Kris believed it.