It started in a low, resounding moan. A lulling sound that drifted through the air, dissipating into the crowd. In the stagnant air of the auditorium, the notes sparkled, like little floating orbs of light, mirroring his perspective. His song told a story, the chords carried words he could never say out loud. He closed his eyes. Through the fog, a bubble in the sea of his conscience emerged, a bubble of the music he played. Fragile so that if he held it tight enough, it might pop, delicate enough so that if he let go of it, it might dissolve entirely into seafoam. Somewhere in that sea was a bigger bubble. A colourful bubble, dancing with beacons of light and shades of pink and green. Holding faded blond hair, faded grey eyes, a steady smile. Holding a hospital bed, canèlès, stuffed animals. This bubble, was easy to burst but impossible to release, to lose. It could so easily break, shatter, melt away. But he could never let that happen if he kept it in his grip. Somehow, if he let that bubble stray in that sea of thoughts, his bubble of music would break too. And his eyes were doors. Keeping them closed shielded him from outside, and kept him afloat in his ocean. When he opened his eyes, a new landscape had played out before him. No more mellow, faded lights and specks of dust in the air. Here, the edges of the sky spilled into the water, and everything seemed to glow like a crystal. When a breeze curled by, cherry blossoms descended from the Sakura trees and rippled the surface of the still water, floating away like tiny pink boats. The piano sat in the middle of an endless lake, the pianist's legs dangling off the edge of the chair, toes dipped into the water. It was beautiful, there was no near or far, but everything was boundless. No walls, no ceiling. Simply shade from the Sakura trees and the refreshing coolness of the water. Somewhere in the distance, a figure appeared. First shapeless and blindingly bright, then an outline formed. Tracing the edges of her golden hair, the folds in her skirt, her shoes and her bow. When the flash of light died down, he saw her back. Her spine, elegant and long. Her collarbones, brittle and thin. She turned, the sparkles in her eyes, as playful as the cherry blossoms, swirling patterns in the waters of her deep blue irises, yet if he missed them they would meander. Her eyes, bright now, illuminated by her smile, as lively as the spring gale. Tugging at the corners of her skirt, twirling it around her ankles. He felt his throat twist into a knot and close, drowning out his voice and tearing away at his breath. He felt his stomach lurching and churning, protesting as loud as it could. He felt his vision cloud over again, hot tears prickling furiously at the back of his eyes, like needles threatening to pierce through. He knew what had happened. She was ghostly. Her skin glowed, her hair was golden, her smile was bright. Please go back to being sick. Her legs were not weak. She held the violin with strength and confidence, brought it to her chin like nothing was wrong. Please go back to the way it was. An aura radiated from her, angelic and graceful, reflecting her bliss. Please...
She stepped forward and nodded, her hair draped over her shoulders and her face flushed feverishly. Please...
But he saw the promise in her eyes, a glint only he could decipher.

"I want you to perform with me."

So he bit back his tears, regained the stead of his breath and tried to smile through the pain. Through the daggers that stabbed at his chest every time he inhaled, through the guilt that burdened him in every note he played. It plagued him, burned through his fingertips and lapped endlessly in his mind, popping out every bubble in his ocean of thought. Yet he cradled her bubble, gripped it like if it were a feeble infant, so that those waves could never reach it. And then he heard another sound. An elongated, tall sound. Audacious and rich, strung out by the strings of her violin. And in the muddle of harmonic synchrony, in the beautiful mess of music that they created together, he almost forgot that painful truth. She was there, like always. So much normalcy that he almost didn't notice when her knees buckled, when her face grew gaunter, when she let her arms fall to her sides limply, when her bow dropped to the ground pathetically.
Almost. How he wished he hadn't at all. He watched her skirt crumple. He watched her posture slacken. And he saw those beautiful colours dull.
The grief came rushing back. In huge, catatonic waves, crashing and tumbling in his mind, only to fall apart and sink to the seabed over and over again. He saw her dress begin to sparkle. Faeries of light were weaving their way around her, threading into the creases in her skirt as if they were sequins. Tugging at her bow, at her fingers, ready to bring her home. This sparkle was too cheerful for the purpose it was meant to convey. And his tears were stuck. As if cast into stone in his eyes, poised to streak down his face, to fog up his vision and leave behind traces of moist heat. But almost crystallised, unable to fall.

"No, don't leave. Please don't leave."

She cast him a smile. But this smile no longer sparkled with lustre and youth. A weary smile now, curled in grim acceptance.
Her violin crumbled to shards, each as sharp as the notes she had played, as her wit and way with words. Riding the wind, clinging to it like strands of her hair, into the horizon.

"Pester me for caneles again. Call me to kill time."

Her skirt began to disintegrate. Laces and frills met ripples and water, melted into the lake until her feet disappeared behind a curtain of silk.

"I don't care if I'm just friend A."

The sparkles died down. Perhaps the faeries had changed their minds? They pulled aside her skirt and slipped out from under her golden locks. Floating away, nestling into the Sakura trees.

"Don't go... Don't go... Please don't go! Please don't leave me behind!"

And then a burst of light blinded his vision, an electric current that buzzed to life in an instant. Such an incredible force that cut through her chest and vented her frustration for her. Light and sparks of colour, of cherry blossoms, of emotion and words. Like she was screaming through a closed mouth. Words he couldn't hear but already knew too well. His breath hitched, his playing grew frantic. His fingers had gone completely numb for a while, but now all the feeling came flooding back in with a vengeance. It wanted to slice through his fingertips, and play a different song of its own. Those ivory keys felt like blades, slashing against his fingers. Black, white, black, white, yet all he could see and feel was stained in a striking red. And then he let the tears fall. He let the waves of his mind cease. He let the storm subside. He watched in forlorn as the last of the light seeped from her chest, and she got back onto her shaking knees.
The faeries hadn't changed their minds. They circled around her, twinkling like christmas lights, whisking her away into the afterlife. Her colour began to fade off. Her body began to give out, breaking off into tiny fragments of her former self, each carried away by the breeze. And as her shoulders started to vanish, she turned back once more. She let a single tear slip out from her blue eyes, and a final smile grace her lips.

"You're awful. Your personality blows. You're ultra-violent, and you leave the worst first impression."

He watched her neck begin to disappear. And he forced a smile upon his tear-stained face. Though his cheeks were sore, and the sickening metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth, from biting his tongue, he used all his remaining effort to lforce a smile for her.

"But you're beautiful."

He saw a flicker of life returning to her eyes, just for a moment. Before the vast, blue firmament, dotted with stars, the colour of her eyes, engulfed her completely. The tight embrace of the afterlife, welcoming a new angel home. No more golden hair, no more smiling eyes. No more cherry lips. Just the quiet hum of faeries, gathering around the vacant spot where her violin should have been. Without her, this virtual land could not exist. The lake pulled back, gorgeous, glistening tides rolled up like a velvet carpet against the piano, and made way for the polished auditorium floor. Gentle blue sky opened up and shattered like brittle glass, spotlights glaring through the clouds. Sakura trees withered, branches hanging low and imploringly, before dusty velveteen curtains swept them away. Until he was left, sitting in front of a grand piano, in a stark auditorium, on a nauseatingly elevated stage. Under the spotlights that demanded attention be on him. But nobody focused on the tears rolling down his cheeks. Crystals, like bubbles in his ocean of thoughts. Her bubble, now smashed to smithereens, its contents overflowing from his arms, spilling through the gaps in his fingers where he could not grasp them. Though she was gone, the notes of her violin rung in his ears endlessly. He swore her voice was in there somewhere too. Hushed, pursuing the dynamics and curves of her music, singing her song.

"Sayonara."