It's because... [There's a thought there, floating up somewhere in the depths of his brain that he tries to materialize but it remains just floating shimmers in the light.] Hands. No hands. [That's the best he can manage right now.]
None of them had hands.
[Or at least none suited for playing piano. His brethren would forever be without rainy afternoons trying to learn new melodies as Paul rests on the couch and people move in and out of a space in a way one only can when there's comfort. When there's a space for you.
Idly, he reaches up and brushes his fingers over Paul's, also slender but much longer, before slowly closing them around Paul's hand, closing the gaps, fitting the pieces together.]
no subject
None of them had hands.
[Or at least none suited for playing piano. His brethren would forever be without rainy afternoons trying to learn new melodies as Paul rests on the couch and people move in and out of a space in a way one only can when there's comfort. When there's a space for you.
Idly, he reaches up and brushes his fingers over Paul's, also slender but much longer, before slowly closing them around Paul's hand, closing the gaps, fitting the pieces together.]