She takes a step forward and runs a hand through his hair, letting the strands fall loosely through her fingertips like sand through a sieve. And then she pulls him closer and kisses him, and he holds her with more care than he did with his violin, and the kiss is like a flavor of coffee that they both like.
And it isn't perfect and they aren't perfect, but in a way they are, because this is their song, and no one can ever tell them that it isn't beautiful.
Author's note: I know the ending is pretty unoriginal, so I tried to throw in some references from the previous chapters... I'm not sure if you can tell. They're sort of crammed in there.
Anyways, the story's over. This whole thing was sort of an experiment to me... thanks to those who reviewed and gave me advice! Also, if you're still reading this, thanks for dealing with my strange train of thought for so long. It really means a lot. :)