It didn't work.

By five I admitted defeat, and with a sigh, relinquished the delicious weight of Darren in favour of the cool night air and a muse who just wouldn't leave me the fuck alone.  Attempted to exorcise this tune from my mind so I could return to bed.

That's how I wound up, naked, perched by the window with my acoustic in hand, strumming out fragments of a melody that wouldn't let me rest.  I played softly, so as not to disurb Darren.  I tested out notes, chords, hooks til I had a chorus and a few sketchy verses.  After four weeks of being unable to squeeze one song from my tortured, unco-operative mind, this melody flowed from my fingertips like honey.

Incredible.

Days earlier I would've given anything to be writing again, but when the inspiration was finally flowing all I wanted to do was finish so I could crawl back into Darren's arms.  Fate has a strange sense of humour.

I worked on the tune til I had the skeleton of a song, scrawling down chords, pushing hard to get close to a rough draft so I could call it a night.  Before I packed it in I decided to play it through - just once - to see if it was working as well as a whole as it did in pieces.

I'd just strummed through the introduction when my guitar ceased to be the only sound in the darkened hotel room.

"Maybe it's intuition..."

I turned my head to see Darren, reclined on the bed, one hand propping his head up, singing softly in that "not of this world" voice.  I almost stopped playing from shock, but he gestured for me to continue.

"...some things you just don't question..."

And he sang.  Not an entire song, of course, just... snatches... sometimes humming, sometimes just singing one line or one word - like he knew what the song would be, he just hadn't finished it yet.  The same as me.

It was beautiful.  I could hear in his voice everything I wanted the song to be, forming and crystallising in his lyrics.  I found myself waiting to hear what he'd sing next, and once he'd voiced it, feeling like I'd already known.

When he sang...

"I knew I loved you before I met you..."

...it was pure rush.  It was more than just desire.  It was every part of me wishing it was true - not just a song - not just lyrics - wanting him to mean it.  Because I knew then that I did.

"That's gorgeous, Darren."  I stated in awe, after the last note was sung.  His mouth quirked at the corner and he wrinkled his nose a little.

"Kinda schmaltzy..."  He started, but I didn't let him finish that thought.

"No way - that's exactly how I want it to sound."  I could feel myself grinning, and decided not to fight it.

"So, do you always write music in the nude?"  He arched an eyebrow at me impertinently, eyes roving my unclothed form.

"Do you?" I challenged, and was rewarded with soft laughter.  He rolled on to his stomach and shot me a look.

"So you *are* a musician then."

"Only in my downtime."

//Why did I say that?//

//He's not ready to know yet, remember.//

//Fine, but I'm telling him tomorrow.//

//You do that.//

"So what *do* you do then?"  He pressed gently, startling me out of my inner thoughts.  

"Oh, this and that.  Nothing major."

//God I hate lying to him.//

"Always the mystery man."  I couldn't tell if that intrigued or disappointed him.  Perhaps both.  He rolled onto his side and regarded me assessingly.

"Who are you, Daniel?"

//Someone who's falling for you.//

"No one special."  I choked out, immediately deciding to steer to conversation back to safer waters before he asked any more questions I couldn't answer.  "You should write those lyrics down - that'll be a great song."

"No need to, it's all in here."  He tapped his forehead softly.  "That's a beautiful tune - did you just make that up?"

"Yeah, just then..."

"Wow..."

"Whaddaya mean wow?"  I piped up, suddenly mischevious.  I shucked the acoustic and took a flying leap onto the bed, just about bouncing Darren off.  "Your lyrics are incredible." I rolled him onto his back and pinned him to the bed, my body straining over his.

"Oh really?"  he jibed in a mess of giggles, struggling, but not hard.  Moving just enough to *invigorate* certain nether regions of my body.

"Really."  I reitorated, suddenly serious.  "How do you do it?"

"I told you.  I write what the music tells me to write."  He took hold of my hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart.  "It all comes from here."

It's strange, but those words made my vision blur a little and suddenly I was tired, so tired of lying.

"Darren, I have to tell you something."

"Shhh, not now."  He placed a finger on my lips, silencing me, then replaced his finger with his mouth and kissed me til I couldn't speak nor think.