You and Schroeder have played the same game of cat and mouse since you were kids. He sits and expertly plays the piano, and you lay on top and bother him. Although, weirdly enough, this is both your strange ways of flirting.

Yes, Schroeder pretends to be bother by you. He works really hard to convince himself he hates you. But there’s a fine, fine line between love and hate. He thinks about you all the time regardless.

He especially thinks about you when you’re on top of his piano going on and on about all of the people you know and he doesn’t care about.

He hits a wrong note and huffs, finally glancing up at you. “Do you ever stop talking?” He mutters, refusing to let on that he doesn’t mean it.

“Well shut me up,” you reply jokingly, punctuating it with a wink.

He desperately tries to hide his blush with anger, snapping, “Beethoven, you’re annoying.”

“Do you seriously still say Beethoven instead of God?”

“…Yes,” he murmurs, avoiding your eyes.