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This story was written based on a particularly nice piece of piano music I heard while sitting in a coffee shop one day last summer.

Not a Word

The sound of a piano playing was far from unfamiliar to Cara, or indeed to the ears of anyone who lived in Mitchell Hall. The common room of the university's hall of residence had possessed an upright piano for as long as anyone could remember, and alongside countless amateur renditions of Chopsticks, a few slightly more practised versions of Fur Elise, and various attempts at the Rugrats theme song from the 90s onward, every now and then a either a student resident or just a visitor to the hall would sit down and enchant whoever was around with some complex classical melody or a more advanced contemporary piece.

Tonight however, as the grey mouse wandered in from a rather pleasant night of drinking with friends, there was no crowd. Indeed the light of the common room wasn't even switched on as Cara padded over and peered through the doors' glass panelling, able to just make out a figure illuminated by what was probably the light of their phone. Cara barely paid any heed to the piano's player though, far too caught up in what they were playing to consider anything so shallow or unimportant as their identity. Why would that matter? Nothing could take away from the beauty of the music they were playing; a loose, free-form composition that might have been jazz or some distinct jazzy genre that Cara wasn't versed enough in music to identify.

She stood, face practically pressed up against the glass like a child looking into a pet store, listening with rapt focus to every note the unknown pianist played. The alcohol within her system had kept a giddy, giggly smile on the mouse's face since she bid goodnight to her friends and strolled home, but that smile faded now as the melody changed without ever stopping; flowing seamlessly into a series of far more sombre and repentant bars. Just as Cara felt like tears were about to begin welling up in the corners of her eyes though, the mouse heard the tone shift again. An abrupt yet somehow purposeful transition to renewed jazzy joy. A different tune from before, but filled with the same hope and enthusiasm. Her heart soared, and her smile didn't only return but blossomed to new brightness. At least, at first.

The more that Cara listened, the more she realised that the story the music was telling was far from black and white, discordant keys calling back to the darker portions of the piece even during its lighter elements. The longer it continued, never repeating itself however similar and interwoven the themes it evoked over five, then ten minutes and beyond, the more that Cara began to understand what was being expressed through the music. What the player was 'saying' with such wordless clarity and heart that it could not have been about anyone but themselves, surely.

When the piano fell silent, more than fifteen minutes after Cara had come across the player already well into the swing of their art, only then did the mouse turn any of her attention to the figure attached to the music. Still lit up purely by whatever light source they had set up close by the piano, Cara peered intently at the face of the performer. A rabbit. Lean in the face, with quite short ears that had been standing proud as they played, but now laid back almost meekly against their skull. Their hair was naturally short, a world away from Cara's flowing black locks, and the bulky hooded sweater they were wearing made it difficult to gauge anything even as basic as their gender. Really though, even now that didn't matter to Cara. The mystery piano player could have been the Queen of England or a homeless drifter who had broken in through the cafeteria windows for all she cared, and still the mouse would have done what she was about to do. After hearing this musician lay their soul bare before her, Cara had to meet them.

Pushing the common room door inward, Cara slipped in, and smiled bashfully as the rabbit jumped, clearly shocked to be disturbed by anyone at this hour of the night. Their voice rang out, not shy exactly, but quiet and withdrawn; a world away from the confident and emotionally vibrant tones of their music.

"I... oh. I didn't wake you, did I? S-sorry. I'm such an idiot. Stupid. Stupid fucking b-..."

Horrified by the rabbit's reaction to her presence, Cara shook her head and rushed over to the hunched and muttering figure. She grabbed the pianists hands from where they were still resting on the keys that had ended their performance, and squeezed them tightly.

"No. No, it's not like that. I... I just got back from town and, please, you didn't disturb me at all. I heard you, and I listened, and... that song you played. I've never heard anything like it. It was amazing."

The rabbit said nothing at first, but at least stopped before they could throw any more curses at themselves. They stared at Cara, or rather at the mouse's pink hands clutching their own. A bright blush lit up the flesh of their brown furred face, and as they finally turned their gaze up to meet Cara's own, their head shook with bashful modesty.

"It's... it's not even a song. It's not anything, really. Just something I play now and then. When I'm feeling... n-nevermind. It's really not important. It's nothing."

She... Cara was fairly certain by now that the rabbit was a she, tried to withdraw her hands. Cara resisted though, pulling back and squeezing even more tightly. With an uninhibited, almost desperate whimper, she leaned in towards the rabbit.

"No. It is. It... it really is something. I... I'm not into music. I don't get it like some people do. But, that? I got that. I felt it. That song, it's... you, right? Sometimes. Or right now. Or... it's who you are, and how you feel, and all the things you can't say with words. That's what the song is. Right?"

Cara saw the rabbit's eyes turn away from hers as they widened, like the mouse had somehow caught her naked or otherwise deeply vulnerable. Her cheeks flushed brighter, but she didn't attempt to pull her hands away from the mouse's again. Actually, she squeezed back even as she stared down at black and whites the piano before her. She inhaled deeply, and the breath that escaped her soon after did so with a visible and audible shudder of emotion.

"Please. I... I don't like talking to people, not about this. About my feelings. Or... well, it's not that I don't like to. But, I'm no good at it. When I try, I just confuse people. Or make them angry at me. Or they just don't listen. Don't care. Don't want to know. So... when I want to talk. To... express something, I play instead. But not when people are around. Not when people can hear. Because then they'll talk to me. They'll ask me about my music. About my feelings that make me want to play it. And then it starts all over again. And, I can't deal with that. I just... I just want to be able to play."

In that moment, Cara knew that she had two choices. To respect what the rabbit was telling her, or to follow her instinct, and totally disregard the other woman's obvious plea for the mouse to drop this line of conversation. She didn't know whether it was the alcohol still running rather rampant through her bloodstream that helped her make the choice, or if the music really had just stirred something up inside of her. Regardless, she could see that this woman in front of her was hurting. Was lonely. And whether stupidly, selfishly or otherwise, the mouse felt compelled to at least try and help her.

"So don't talk. And I won't ask you to, or expect you to either. I won't ask for even one word. But, just because you don't want to talk? It doesn't mean you have to be alone. Your song. Your music. I... I thought I heard sadness in there. Mixed in with the happiness. But, it's not that, right? Not exactly, I mean. You're... you're not any more sad than the rest of us. But, you're lonely. You want someone who listens. Someone who'll still care, even if they don't understand all of what you're feeling. A friend who... gets it. Gets you."

Before the rabbit could respond, she was being dragged to her feet from the piano stool, and into Cara's arms. The mouse held the taller woman around the midsection, arms rising up the length of her back, and felt her tense, rigid, awkward figure soon begin to loosen. She felt hands on her own shoulders before too long. Hands that moved down across her own back, attached to arms that started to squeeze. And then she heard the rabbit's voice, speaking despite no obligation to do so.

"You say that. But... friends expect you to want to tell them things, even if they say you don't have to. They expect you to be able to share in a way they understand. They expect you to get them get you. How do I make a friend without talking to them? How do I find someone who gets me, when I can't show them anything to get. I... I've been here for months, and no-one knows me, because I don't know how to try any more. All the friends I had before uni... I lost because of what I said, or what I didn't say. When I got here, I told myself it would be different. That I wouldn't force myself to be uncomfortable, just to make others comfortable. And because of that, I haven't lost any friends. But, I haven't made any, either."

Cara said nothing. Not at first, and not for quite some time afterwards. But when she did break her silence, the mouse's first vocalisation shocked the rabbit. Not with what she said, because it wasn't any form of words, but because Cara gave a soft, warm laugh.

"I'm standing here with you, and all I want to do is figure out a way to help. I keep telling myself I don't care if you feel like people don't want to get to know you, or don't have the patience to try and understand when you express yourself. That I do. And that I don't care in the slightest if you say a word to me, just so long as you know if you did, I'd listen. And the more I think about it, the more I feel like... if you want to know how to make a friend? That's easy. Just look at me, and I'll show you how."

The two women withdrew from the other's embrace, slowly and rather nervously on the rabbit's part. She shivered as Cara's hand released her from their hug, and immediately returned to grasp reassuringly at her hands once again.

"I know I said you didn't have to talk. But, since you have... can I ask for one more word? Your name?"

The rabbit blushed, and spoke simply.

"Janey."

Cara smiled.

"Janey. I'm Cara. And the way you make a friend? Is exactly like this."

The mouse squeezed Janey's hands within her own, then for a second time pulled Janey forward into her arms. She felt the rabbit's body tense up again, and remain that way even as the other woman grabbed at her own torso in a tight hug. That made sense though, at least when she felt the rabbit's figure begin to tremble and heard the first tearful whimper escape Janey's lips. Lifting one hand to stroke the back of the rabbit's hair, the mouse closed her own eyes and leaned into the embrace as Janey began to weep openly, face burying itself in the welcoming shoulder of the shorter woman holding her with such care and compassion.

There were no words, nor even music filling the air, but never had Janey felt it easier to make her feelings known than as she stood there, crying in her friend's warm, welcoming embrace. She was happy, and grateful, but scared too. Scared that this friendship, so long in coming, would not outlast her unwillingness to share and express on anything but her own terms, just as so many of her friendships in the past had come to a bitter end.

And yet, for possibly the first time in her adult life, the rabbit felt like Cara might just have understood that, too. For as they stood there together for five minutes, then ten, and then for longer than Cara had listened to Janey play her beautiful tune on the piano, the mouse did not say a word. Did not ask a word from the rabbit. She just hugged her. Held her. And stood there in her arms. Caring. Willing. Patient. Just like the friend she knew Janey needed so badly.

By Jeeves

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