Old Man Yaoi

Another ship!
Buff Pianist Grandpa x Homesick Painter Grandpa

My creative juices are flowing.

They both met in Amalfi, Italy back when they were younger when Painter Grandpa was working a part time job as a server in a Grand Hotel in Amalfi to fund his dream.

As The Painter was done serving a table the smooth jazz music slowly came to stop and what replaced it was a soothing piano melody. Looking up, The Painter saw a brown haired man with shoulder length hair playing the piano. He slows down his steps to listen to the piano more not knowing that he was absentmindedly staring at the handsome pianist.

After a while, the music came to a stop and the guests applauded. Waking up from his reverie The Painter sees The Pianist staring back at him. His eyes playful with a small smile on lips. Embarrassed, The Painter breaks off eye contact and heads back to the kitchen to continue serving the guests.

After The Painter's shift, he leaves the Hotel. After a full noon of serving guests, the stress finally kicks in and he sits on a flower bed to rest for a moment. Looking around the streets alight with a soft yellow hue from the streetlights with no cars in sight. The Painter sighs, it seems he's going to walk all the way home today as well he says

As he got up and patted his clothes, a light is seen around the corner and a motorcycle comes into view. Seeing a motorcycle and not a taxi, The Painter ignores it and walks home. The motorcycle slowly comes closer and as it was nearing The Painter, it slows to crawl.

"Hey!" heard The Painter. Confused as to who it might be, he looks over. It was a man in a black leather jacket driving the motorcycle. The Painter couldn't see his face as he was wearing a helmet but seeing the leather jacket and motorcycle one thing came to mind, biker gangs.

Scared, The Painter asks if he needed anything. The man, now next to The Painter, stops his motorcycle and gets off. The Painter fearful for his life shouts at the unknown man not to come near him and that he doesn't have much money, only a few Lira on him.

The man, confused as to why The Painter would think he was robbing him looked down on his clothes. Laughing, he took off his helmet. Under the warm yellow hue of the lights his brown hair looked like rolling hills of chocolate and his eyes like warm like a cup of coffee on a sunny sunday afternoon.

"It's me!" The man said with a laugh. The Painter recalls if he has met this man somewhere but he doesn't quite remember so he asks if he has met him before. Perplexed the man said with a smirk "You were staring at me quite a bit before but now you don't remember me?"

Recalling, The Painter gasps and utters "The Pianist?"