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Every Melody

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Laurie sat at his piano bench as his fingers moved quickly over the keys. His body swayed in time as he played. Baby blue and sunshine yellow flashed rapidly in his mind's eye. He desperately tried to hit every note as it flowed through his body from his memory.

It starts high and cheerful echoing her voice as she ran from her carriage to him in the streets of France. Her footsteps sounding quickly against the stone streets. His name is a short staccato of two notes. It's a wistful sound as the nostalgia of their shared childhood took over their conversation. She'd invited him to a ball and the melody rose only to fall in disappointment when he realized he couldn't attend. He'd promised his grandfather his presence elsewhere. She'd understood but her sunshine had dimmed. 

The lower notes remain but they sway now as he watches her paint him. Her eyes are gentle as they decide which color matches his suit the best. Her hands are gentle as they conduct the colors movement on her canvas. She conducts people in the same way. Her natural ability to see where people are best suited in a situation and conducting them to do as she wills absolutely enchants him. Everything about her does. The tempo changes at his realization and seems to rise with his heart in his chest.

He tries to explain it to her in the garden. He isn't eloquent like Jo. He can't paint the picture for her the way that Amy does. The melody is choppy through this portion. Their voices are sharps and flats that clash in their conversation. Their duet is painful to his ears. Her beautiful soprano ends abruptly, leaving nothing but his somber bass. The melody is sad and low, it's temper as slow as Laurie feels. The world seems to fly by but he remains permanantly in that garden where she took the most pivotal parts of him in her exist. He walks around as an automaton, feigning a real person.

He opens his eyes and adds the next few measures to the paper in front of him. He'd fled to London with his grandfather after his falling out with Amy. If his pain and discomfort would make her life easier, he would gladly bare it. He rarely did anything. He went to work with his grandfather in the morning but upon his return, Laurie found himself at his piano. He needed to capture every part of her that he could remember. Drinking and flirting did nothing but dull her image, it's how he coped with Jo's rejection. He couldn't even imagine trying to dull Amy's memory. No. He would remember each blissful, joyful, painful moment and write it down the only way that he knew how. 

He rolled his head in a circle and breathed a long sigh as he stretched out his tense muscles. It had gotten dark outside of his windows and his previously steaming cup of tea was cold. 

"Laurie," his grandfather called and opened the door. 

He stood from his bench to meet him halfway.

"There's a letter here for you," he paused, "I'm right downstairs if you need me."

Laurie furrowed his brows but took the letter from him, watching as his grandfather shut the door softly behind him. He had been waiting for Beth's response to his previous letter. She'd been busy recently helping Meg with her young children and their correspondance began to take longer to reach him. She was the closest thing he had to a sister and they frequently shared their favorite music sheets with each other. 

He turned the envelope around to read who had sent him the letter. 

His breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a beat. His stomach turned. He wanted to rip it open and devour it. He wanted to light it on fire. He set it on his chair, walked across the room and slid down the wall so that he was crouched on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees, burying his face in them. 

Amy March. 

He took slow, controlled breaths through his nose. He lifted his head to stare at the offensive letter. Laurie wouldn't be surprised to read that Fred Vaughn had finally proposed. He'd taken at least a year and a half to ask her and it was about time for him to make the offer before Amy would be forced to move on, she would be ruined socially otherwise. Amy was kind enough that she would write to him personally, he had no doubt. She wouldn't have wanted him to find out from someone else. 

But, what if?

He crossed the room. His shoes making a sharp, high sound on the floor.


Mr. Laurence,



He sighed. She had given him the nickname when she was forced to stay at Aunt March's when she was younger. Amy had been upset that Jo had a personal nickname for him and decided that she deserved one as well.

"First, I must offer my deepest apologies. I should never have walked away from you the way that I did. I let my anger get the best of me and I am so incredibly sorry.

I feel as though  I couldn't bare to watch you proclaim you feelings towards me, not when I had grown up seeing you chase after Jo. I've always come second to her, in every area of my life and the thought of being second to her in regards to your emotions is one that I've battled with for longer than you know. I love you too, Laurie. I have since I was a girl. When you professed your emotions to me, I was blinded by my outrage at the belief that I was a replacement.

I've had time to reflect. Aunt March has, surpringly, been a listening ear and a voice of reason as I processed everything. Beth too, though that's unsurprising. If you still feel that way I'm here, waiting for you if you are still offering. 

All My Love,


His grandfather rushed into his room at the loud noise, "Laurie!"

He looked up from where he was suffing his suitcase full of his clothes. The letter lay on his piano bench and all around the room his belongings were scattered. 

"What are you doing, son?" He asked him.

"She loves me," he said as the tears in his eyes fell down his cheeks. 

His grandfather studied him for a minute. His eyes searched the deepest parts of his soul that had been so gaurded before. He felt flayed open at her words and couldn't find it in him to bring his walls back up around him.

His grandfather nodded and offered him a small smile, "Then, go to her."


The notes shuffled back and forth quickly. It was quick. Exciting. It was a loud creshindo, all of it until he laid his eyes on her again. His memory didn't do her justice. She was infinitely more beautiful. Her voice, a melody that he hadn't quite gotten right. Her tears were a mournful ballad that broke him down the middle. 

But when they combined, his lips on hers. There wasn't a comparison. The sound was a perfect harmony that spoke of love, new beginnings, and cherished whispers. 


She'd said yes this time and they married under the warm, afternoon sun that reminded him so much of her. A summer song. Her light was focused on him.

He'd wanted to give her a grand wedding at home with their family surrounding them and their laughter permeating the air, but Aunt March was sick. Amy had desperately wanted to return home, had for a long time, so they married in France. It was small but beautiful ceremony and the people who were there filled the space with so much love that neither of themselves found it lacking. 

They returned home as soon as they could. Their letters had arrived before them and they were greeted with cheerful melodies of excitement. Beth had claimed that she'd known all along from the way that they wrote of each other that they would end up together. Meg giggled and said that nobody caught Laurie's eyes so much as Amy. Jo was ecstatic that Laurie was officially part of her family. When they'd left, Laurie's soul was so full of music that he wondered if he'd ever hav enough time to get it out. 

Laurie didn't share his music. It was not until Amy expressed her continued insecurity that surrounded his love for her.

"Where are we going? Theo, I'm hardly appropriate to be meandering through the house what if someone see's us," Amy was saying as he led her out of their bedroom. He ignored her protests and continued down the grand staircase to the music room on the first floor. 

He found his normal seat and settled there as only someone who'd been there for hours previously, could. He pulled her to sit next to him and prepared his fingers over the keys.

He played through their childhood, their reunion and departure. The rise of being allowed to love her. The rush of their wedding night and the pounding of his heart. The peace that came with each gaze they shared from across a room. The feeling of her hand in his own. Her hair underneath his hands and her eyes as they stared into his. Laurie's heart was placed carefully at her feet once more. 

The song came to an abrupt end as he removed his fingers from the keys. 

Her head came off of his shoulder, where it had fallen during his performance. Her blue eyes were glistening with tears, "It's not finished?"

He shook his head and wiped her tears away with his thumbs, "I would hope not. I hope it never finishes."

Her tears were falling faster than he could wipe them away, "It's us?"

"It's you, Amy. All of my music, it's all you. It always has been. My love for you, it's all there, woven into every melody that I'll ever play," he told her. 

She pulled him into a deep kiss. They were tangled together in body, mind, and soul. They were a symphony, a cacophony of sound. 

"Will you play it again?" She asked him. 

He did.