His choices could not have been random. Melpomene had - by her very existence - been helping people express their feelings through music and art for thousands of years, she could tell when a voice was genuine, when the meaning pouring out with the song lyrics was true. He sang about splitting up on a dark sad night and she squeezed Apollo’s hand and let it go, turning onto her side to hide her face against Alan’s stomach. He sang about the promise to meet again some day and all she wanted to do was curl up here, close her eyes, let the time pass till that day was today.
The pain overcame her again before he finished, and she struggled to sit up, hunching over with one of her hands clamped down on his, another digging her nails deep into the expensive leather of Apollo’s seats. She shook her head when his voice faltered, keep singing and clung on to his voice, and all the unspoken unsung undercurrents swirling around them.
When she started to sing, her own voice was rough, her face hidden by a tangled curtain of hair as her head had dropped forward, over her stomach. “You are my sweetest downfall, she sang, slowly leaning sideways to press her shoulder against Alan’s. ”I loved you first, I loved you first." Rough, breathy, worn as her voice was, she was still a muse, and before she’d been tragedy, she’d been song. Singing carried her though, as listening to him had carried her through, but it also dredged up every buried emotion, and they were so strong, singing was not cathartic enough to free her from all of them.
She wasn’t finished when they arrived, and Apollo opened her door and reached for her. Melpomene wrapped her arms around Alan’s neck and held on, held on till Apollo gently, with barely-heard words of encouragement, peeled her away from him and lifted her out of the car.