Your Song
A very special Songfic for my beloved lifepartner @FlameAndSong for our 8 Month Celebration. Fin I wasn't originally going to do a songfic this time, but this one came to me after a Moulin Rouge Soundtrack binge. This is one of my all-time favourite E.J. songs, and actually one of the few that I can still sing confidently.
The story was actually what I wrote first (after the French carriage ride), but they song fit with it so perfectly. Just like I do with you.
You are my world, my beloved Fin. My One and Everything, I treasure you and love you dearly. My gift is this song, and this one is for you.
The story was actually what I wrote first (after the French carriage ride), but they song fit with it so perfectly. Just like I do with you.
You are my world, my beloved Fin. My One and Everything, I treasure you and love you dearly. My gift is this song, and this one is for you.
Your Song — A Parisian Love Story
The sun melts into the Seine like candle wax, the water catching gold fire as the day exhales its final breath. Andy sits at the piano by the river, his silver-blonde hair catching the light, fingers tracing a melody half-born of longing and half-remembered from dreams.
Fin stands nearby beneath drifting cherry blossoms, a smile playing at his lips, tender, knowing, full of quiet devotion. For a heartbeat, even Paris seems to pause, listening to the music and the unspoken words hidden between each note.
The song begins, "It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside", and as the chords ripple across the river, it feels less like a tune and more like a homecoming.
Later, in the warm hush of an artist’s loft in Montmartre, the melody continues, not on keys this time, but through laughter. Canvases line the walls, paintbrushes scatter across the table, and the candlelight flickers on two souls who have long since stopped pretending to be anything less than in love.
Andy tunes the piano again, half-distracted by the way Fin sketches him, the way he smiles like he’s been waiting for this exact moment forever. Their wedding rings flash in the amber glow, two small suns circling each other endlessly.
When night descends, they move to the balcony. The Eiffel Tower gleams like a distant flame. The air hums with music again, Andy’s fingers dancing over the keys, Fin leaning close, champagne in hand, eyes full of starlight. The fairy lights strung across the piano glow softly, wrapping them in their own constellation. The notes are vows without words, a love song written not for the world, but for the one listening beside him.
Then comes the grandeur of Versailles. The Hall of Mirrors glitters in the quiet midnight hour, candlelight stretching infinitely in reflection. Andy and Fin dance slowly, hands clasped, laughter echoing softly off marble and glass. In every mirrored wall, a thousand versions of them sway in perfect time, reflections of love unbroken, caught between worlds of light and shadow. It’s a waltz for two hearts that already know eternity by touch.
Rain begins to fall in Paris, soft, silver, full of warmth. On a cobblestone street lined with cafés and amber lights, they walk together, hand in hand, sharing a joke too private for the world to hear. The glow of the signs, the scent of espresso and rain, the hush of traffic, everything fades until it’s just them.
They are laughter and warmth against the storm, the kind of love that turns even the coldest drizzle into music.
Dawn arrives at Giverny, soft and golden. Mist curls through wisteria arches as birds sing above dew-slick grass. The piano stands silent and beaded with droplets. Andy and Fin embrace beneath the blossoms, eyes closed, smiles serene. There’s no performance here, only the steady heartbeat of morning, the gentle sigh of peace. The garden itself seems to bloom brighter around them, as if the earth has decided to sing too.
And then, at last, morning finds them by the Seine once more. The world is new again, awash in gold and rose light. The city stirs, bells toll, cafés awaken, and the water shimmers with the promise of another day. Andy and Fin stand together beside the river, foreheads touching, lips a breath apart. No words pass between them.
They don’t need any. The melody has ended, but the music remains, in their eyes, their rings, their silence.
The piano rests behind them, closed now, its final note still echoing in the light.
And as the Seine flows on, the truth lingers in the morning air
that the song was never about the music.
It was about the two who made it.
"How wonderful life is… while you’re in the world."
The sun melts into the Seine like candle wax, the water catching gold fire as the day exhales its final breath. Andy sits at the piano by the river, his silver-blonde hair catching the light, fingers tracing a melody half-born of longing and half-remembered from dreams.
Fin stands nearby beneath drifting cherry blossoms, a smile playing at his lips, tender, knowing, full of quiet devotion. For a heartbeat, even Paris seems to pause, listening to the music and the unspoken words hidden between each note.
The song begins, "It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside", and as the chords ripple across the river, it feels less like a tune and more like a homecoming.
Later, in the warm hush of an artist’s loft in Montmartre, the melody continues, not on keys this time, but through laughter. Canvases line the walls, paintbrushes scatter across the table, and the candlelight flickers on two souls who have long since stopped pretending to be anything less than in love.
Andy tunes the piano again, half-distracted by the way Fin sketches him, the way he smiles like he’s been waiting for this exact moment forever. Their wedding rings flash in the amber glow, two small suns circling each other endlessly.
When night descends, they move to the balcony. The Eiffel Tower gleams like a distant flame. The air hums with music again, Andy’s fingers dancing over the keys, Fin leaning close, champagne in hand, eyes full of starlight. The fairy lights strung across the piano glow softly, wrapping them in their own constellation. The notes are vows without words, a love song written not for the world, but for the one listening beside him.
Then comes the grandeur of Versailles. The Hall of Mirrors glitters in the quiet midnight hour, candlelight stretching infinitely in reflection. Andy and Fin dance slowly, hands clasped, laughter echoing softly off marble and glass. In every mirrored wall, a thousand versions of them sway in perfect time, reflections of love unbroken, caught between worlds of light and shadow. It’s a waltz for two hearts that already know eternity by touch.
Rain begins to fall in Paris, soft, silver, full of warmth. On a cobblestone street lined with cafés and amber lights, they walk together, hand in hand, sharing a joke too private for the world to hear. The glow of the signs, the scent of espresso and rain, the hush of traffic, everything fades until it’s just them.
They are laughter and warmth against the storm, the kind of love that turns even the coldest drizzle into music.
Dawn arrives at Giverny, soft and golden. Mist curls through wisteria arches as birds sing above dew-slick grass. The piano stands silent and beaded with droplets. Andy and Fin embrace beneath the blossoms, eyes closed, smiles serene. There’s no performance here, only the steady heartbeat of morning, the gentle sigh of peace. The garden itself seems to bloom brighter around them, as if the earth has decided to sing too.
And then, at last, morning finds them by the Seine once more. The world is new again, awash in gold and rose light. The city stirs, bells toll, cafés awaken, and the water shimmers with the promise of another day. Andy and Fin stand together beside the river, foreheads touching, lips a breath apart. No words pass between them.
They don’t need any. The melody has ended, but the music remains, in their eyes, their rings, their silence.
The piano rests behind them, closed now, its final note still echoing in the light.
And as the Seine flows on, the truth lingers in the morning air
that the song was never about the music.
It was about the two who made it.
"How wonderful life is… while you’re in the world."
It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
I don't have much money, but, boy, if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live
If I was a sculptor, heh, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show
I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song, and this one's for you
And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well, a few of the verses, well, they've got me quite cross
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song
It's for people like you that keep it turned on
So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do
You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue
Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen
And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world.
-Elton John
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
I don't have much money, but, boy, if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live
If I was a sculptor, heh, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show
I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song, and this one's for you
And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well, a few of the verses, well, they've got me quite cross
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song
It's for people like you that keep it turned on
So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do
You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue
Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen
And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world.
-Elton John
