Author's Note: Inspired by Romance for Violin and Piano. Op. 11. By Antonin Dvorak. Listen to it here. 

Neo loved to sing. Ever since she was a small child she loved to sing. She had the voice of an angel and the looks of one too. Despite her talent, she was extremely shy. She was only ever comfortable singing in the privacy of her bedroom. Whenever her parents would ask her to sing for their friends, she would seal her lips and shake her head, her multicolored bangs falling into her face. She wouldn't even sing at her parents' behest. The only person she would sing for was her best friend, (F/N). Like everyone else, (F/N) loved to listen to Neo sing. When they were young, he would always try to sing with her, but he was never very good. Though he couldn't sing, he was a virtuoso on the violin. His mother and father had been surprised when he first asked for one, but as soon as he touched the well carved instrument, it became clear he had a natural talent. Musical critics from all over the Kingdom, indeed, all over Remnant, had their eyes on (F/N). Experts agreed that he would become one of the greats. In truth, (F/N)'s desire to play the violin arose completely because of Neo. He knew he couldn't sing, but he longed to accompany her beautiful voice, and he loved the way the violin accompanied her vocals. He loved to play for people, but he never got more joy than when he played with her. The rich tone of the violin and the soft angelic voice of Neo's sopranino, those few who heard them in combination thought that surely, this is how the angels in heaven must sound.

That was before the incident. Before the tragedy that shattered Neo's world. A fire, so large it consumed an entire city block. Neo's house had been right at the center of the raging blaze that lit the night sky. She had been asleep at the time; the sound of her bedroom door being thrown open pulled her from her dreams. Her parents scooped her up into their arms and fled, the ground floor of their house already being devoured by flames. They had almost reached the door when the ceiling collapsed, and suddenly, everything was black. After the fire finally burned itself out, emergency response teams were dispatched, and a search began for any survivors. On the third day after the fire, a crew of firefighters came across Neo, miraculously alive. Her parents had shielded her, and her house of brick and mortar resisted the flames which, had the building been constructed of wood, would have surely swallowed her in an instant.

Aside from dehydration, Neopolitan seemed relatively unharmed. She suffered from several minor burns and had a single cut across her soot covered cheek, but nothing permanent. At least, nothing visibly permanent. It wasn't until she awoke in a hospital bed a week later that the complete extent of her injuries were brought to light. Severe smoke inhalation the doctors had told her. The burning hot embers she inhaled had caught in her throat and caused irreversible damage to her vocal chords.

With her parents dead and no other family to speak of, Neopolitan was placed in a children's home. After a brief stint in the orphanage, a wealthy couple had taken interest in the young girl and filed for her adoption. They dressed her in a fine brown corset and white tail coat. At first, they were loving and kind, presenting her with a fine parasol and beautiful necklaces to hang from her neck. But as time progressed and the weeks became months, it became obvious they held no real love for the girl. They simply desired a daughter whose beauty was fitting of their aristocratic nature. A charity case to flaunt at parties, who would obey without question, and who could never talk back.

It had seemed like the fire had happened a lifetime ago, but in reality, it had only been six months. At night, Neo silently wept. Laying atop sheets of satin, her tears gently rolled down her face and stained her pillow. When she had no more tears to cry and exhaustion finally overtook her, she would fall into a fitful state of dreams. She dreamed of her parents. She dreamed of the fire. But mostly, she dreamed of (F/N). His house too was destroyed by the fire, but she never knew what had become of him. Until one night, exactly two years since the black sky burned as brightly as day, she heard soft music coming from outside her window.

At first, she thought it was a dream. Then, realizing she was awake, she figured she must have been hearing things. Hallucinations brought about due to lack of sleep. She ignored the music. The next night she heard it again. The same soft, melodic sound that drifted towards her window, muffled by the glass. Curiosity peaked, she crawled out of her too large bed and threw the curtains back. Much to her surprise, she saw a figure standing on the ground outside her window, shrouded in shadows. She didn't need to see who it was to recognize the sound of the violin. Quickly packing a bag, she crawled out the window and into the loving embrace of her childhood friend. And, taking his hand, the two ran off into the night.

As the sun rose the next day, Neo saw just how much her friend had changed. He was no longer the scrawny soft-skinned child she once knew. In the past two years since she had last seen him, he had grown quite tall, standing just under six foot. His shoulders were broader and his build more muscular. His skin was weathered and calloused, his right arm and right side of his chest covered in scar tissue, a result of the numerous burns he suffered that night. (F/N) also saw changes in Neo as well. She too had grown, though only a few inches. He saw that her hair was longer and, with a blush, that her chest was fuller. They were no longer the innocent children they once were. Now sixteen years of age, the two had gone through more than most twice their age.

That day, (F/N) explained to Neo how the fire had woken him. How his parents had already burned to charred corpses, trapped in their bedroom. The fire destroyed his house, and he had only survived by taking shelter in the bathtub on the first floor. He was placed in an orphanage, respectable on the outside but the owners took pleasure in beating the wards. Spending four months in that hell, he escaped and began living on the streets, spending each waking moment searching for Neo. He had traced her path from the wreckage to the hospital, and from there to the orphanage. Unfortunately, the orphanage kept poor records, and the trail went cold following her adoption. It was only in the last week that he had finally managed to locate her.

From that day the two were together. Life was hard, but (F/N) took care of them. During the day, he would leave Neo's side and hire himself out as physical labor to anyone that needed anything done. It was hard work and took a heavy toll on his body, but it kept them fed and clothed. At night, he would play his violin. Neo was sad that she could no longer sing, but she still loved to hear (F/N) play. He hadn't lost his skill over the two years they were apart, and every night she drifted off to sleep to the sound of his playing. Once her eyes closed and her breathing slowed, (F/N) would gently cover her in her patched quilt before rolling up his own blanket and placing it between her head and the hard concrete of the sidewalks on which they slept. He would then remove his jacket and add the extra weight on top of Neo's body before resting his back against a hard brick wall and allowing the pure exhaustion to overcome him.

The first winter was hard. As snow fell and the wind blew, (F/N) and Neo huddled together beneath their small collection of ragged blankets and sheets, bodies shivering and teeth chattering. With no one in need of any physical laborers, the two ran out of money within the first month. Each night brought with it more snow and harsher winds, and each night (F/N) and Neo were in danger of succumbing to hypothermia. But still Neo smiled each night as (F/N) played for her. As hard as life got, as cold as she was and as empty as her stomach might be, Neo knew she would rather spend such a life with (F/N) than a cushiony life with her loveless adopted parents.

Christmas time brought with it colder weather and more snow. Neo was sick, her body shaking violently as cold sweat rolled down her hot forehead. She needed medicine and food, more than just the scraps they were getting. (F/N) knew that if he didn't do something, she would die. So, wrapping her in their collection of increasingly fraying blankets and his now worn jacket, he placed a kiss on her forehead as she slept, and braved the cold of the night in nothing but his torn jeans and ragged t-shirt. The next morning Neo woke to the smell of hot chicken soup. (F/N) carefully spoon-fed her, encouraging her to eat as much as she could. When she had finished sipping on the warm broth, (F/N) pulled a bottle of medicine from his back pocket and measured the recommended dose, tipping the disgusting tasting liquid into her mouth. Next, he handed her a new, heavy winters jacket which held in the heat of her body. (F/N) kissed her on the forehead and swaddled her in every blanket they had. She huddled up in their alley, her back against the brick wall as she watched (F/N) take inventory of their supplies. Their cans of food stacked against the wall next to the medicine and the rags they called clothes. But something from the collection was missing. That night, Neo went to sleep without the sound of (F/N)'s violin.

Another year passed, and by next winter the two succumbed to desperation. No matter how hungry or cold he got, (F/N) never would have done it if he didn't also have Neo to think about. An unsuspecting couple, scarves bundled round their necks as they waited for a taxi, would return home to find their wallets were missing. (F/N) never took more than they needed, and not a single lien was taken nor spent without the thought of Neo in his mind.

One cold January day, (F/N) targeted the wrong person. A man dressed in a white suit coat with a bowler hat and twirling a cane was sure to be carrying a sizeable amount of cash on him. Sneaking up behind him, (F/N) lifted the man's wallet. That evening he and Neo were approached in their alley by the very same man. Fearing the worst, (F/N) stood protectively in front of Neo, but was surprised when the man laughed. He said he was impressed with the young man's skill, that not many could successfully pickpocket the infamous Roman Torchwick. He offered them a job. A place to stay. (F/N) was wary of the man, knowing exactly what 'job' the man had in mind. But over the sound of Torchwick's offer he heard the chattering of Neo's teeth and the sniffling of her running nose. He accepted.

By February (F/N) and Neo had become well acclimated with Roman's operation. They were pro's, and as much as they hated hurting the innocent, the memories of the cold winter air and the hard concrete sidewalks were fresh enough to keep them encouraged.

Having been saving her money from their jobs over the past four weeks, on the fourteenth day of the second month, Neo presented (F/N) with a new violin, replacing the one he had sacrificed the year before. He played for her that night, and afterwards, she gave herself to him, mind, body, and soul.

As the snow melted and the flowers bloomed, so too did their love. Neo was happier than she had ever been. She was happier than she had ever been, and yet she cried. Though she had always missed it, it was now more than ever that she missed her voice. She cried at night when she thought (F/N) was asleep. During the day, (F/N) comforted her, asking what made her weep so. She tried to tell him, but resorted to frustratingly pointing at her throat and mouth. (F/N) wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his chest. He told her that he too missed listening to her sing, missed playing his violin in accompaniment with her heavenly voice. And as she listened to his heartbeat as he stroked her hair, she smiled. But it was a sad smile, because (F/N) was mistaken. She had never much cared for singing. She had never much cared for talking either. She had always been extremely shy. But with him she was always happy. And here, now, wrapped in his arms, she was happier than she had ever been. But still she cried. She cried because no matter how strong her love for the man holding her, she could never tell him.  

Author's Note: I personally think this is some of my best writing. Please let me know what you thought.