You had a secret. You were going to visit Rachmaninoff. The famous composer. You had always deeply admired the man, and now it feels like a dream, being able to just..go and visit him. He had always been a bit odd, but you never really minded all too much. He was nice to you most of the time, at least. Unless you interrupted him while he was making music. Then he would get pretty pissy about it. But, you learned how to avoid getting him mad.

Sometimes, it was very tedious trying to make sure he didn't randomly snap at you, and even if he did, he would most certainly not apologize for it. As his assistant, you had seen a lot of his anger and other emotions taken out on you, with little apology. It irritated you, but you admired him so much that it almost didn't really matter. You wondered if he felt as strongly about you. You hoped so.

As you visited him, he was playing the piano. You knew that was your cue to shut the hell up until he finished. As you wait, you become transfixed by the music. He had always been able to write such beautiful music, and you both admired and envied it. Suddenly, he finished playing. You were a little sad, since you had been enjoying the piece. He glances to the side and notices you.

"Staring?" He said in his usual blank tone, but you could almost hear a little amusement. Almost.