Wine and Gun

That's exactly what happens on a Christmas morning, the last long note drifting from under the fingers, the hands that held guns and knives, dazzled body and soul, and were able to create this fragile, beautiful and eternal thing. There was a comfortable silence between them after the note fell, until at last Albarino gave a soft cough as a signal that he was about to speak.

He ran his fingers lightly along the seam on the shoulders of Herstal's shirt and asked, "...do you want me to cheer for you, or do you want me to kiss you at this time?"

Then he heard Herstal tut softly, but it didn't seem like he was really helpless. Then Herstal turned around, reached out and grabbed the front of Albarino's pajamas, dragging Albarino down with a slightly rough movement.

It wasn't a very comfortable position, and Albarino kept his balance on his shoulders, smiled slightly as he kissed the man's ruthless lips, and asked vaguely between that kiss: "Liszt's "Dream of Love"?"

Maybe Albarino smiled a little too clearly, or maybe his good mood was bubbling up, but Herstal grabbed his shoulder and pulled a little distance, and when he spoke, he didn't know what it was. Because of embarrassment, embarrassment, or some more complicated emotion, it seems a bit fierce.

Herstal frowned and asked, "What are you laughing at?"

Apparently he thought he was calm enough, but in fact Albarino noticed with sharp eyes that his earlobes were a little red, and that red looked so soft that it made one want to touch it with a hand. But Albarino consciously refrained from this thought, knowing that if he did, Herstal would definitely be angry on the spot.

—because they all knew what they were doing, and it might even have been something more intimate than kissing, having sex, and throwing dead bodies in the woods together in the dark and windy night: for those sleepless men in St. Anthony’s Church many years ago. At night, because Herstal has not touched the piano in thirty years, and because there are so many piano songs in the world, Herstal chose to choose "Dream of Love" because it was Christmas morning, and this song The tune was a gift from Albarino.

"I didn't want to laugh, I just couldn't control myself at this time." So Albarino told him, after Herstal had given enough (it was like opening his own chest and giving it to others) Look at his heart), he deserves some good words. But then, Albarino couldn't help but ask: "How long have you been practicing?... After all, I never heard you play the piano when I was at home."

"It didn't take long," Herstal replied, his expression still as cold and disgusting as ever, he paused, and then added: "When you go to buy the flower shop."

This is not exactly the truth, the real answer is "three months". He didn't forget the staves, and his sense of music was always good, but he didn't touch the piano for so many years that his fingers were fighting with fingers, and sometimes he wanted to get angry with himself at the end of the connection, and pick up on himself that he never wanted to in his life. The art of picking up was something more difficult than he imagined.

But...Albarino does need a Christmas present, and for the past three Christmases he has received nothing. And Herstal had a hunch that no matter what he tried to give the other party, the other party's gift could easily be better than his.

(It was indeed the case, Herstal's eyes fell on Albarino's neckline, under the collar of the pajamas there were some gauze corners, and those gauze covered a name)

And now the Sunday Gardener was watching him, a sort of almost soft smile in those impressive green eyes. After a while, the expression seemed to subside, and Albarino turned slightly serious. He chose to press Herstal's shoulder, put a kiss on his brow, and said softly, "Thank you."

Hestal looked up at him and raised his eyebrows: "Why do I think you are more frank than usual today?"

"Indeed," Albarino smiled happily, blinking his eyes, "—it's a Christmas miracle."

Note:

[1] "Love! Love as long as you can, as long as you want!"

-Freyer Glatter, "Love! You can love so long", the third poem in Liszt's "Dream of Love".

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