Summary: He couldn't count how many times he had let her slip out of his grasp. But now, it was too late. They couldn't go back. Now, they could only stay where they were and listen to empty melodies.
How many times had they told him to hope for a cure? There previously wasn't any meaning in their false words. Why should he expect there to be now?
Yet when he was given cold, hard evidence that his lifespan could, in fact, be lengthened, and that he would regain movement in his left arm, he still felt nothing. In truth, though he maintained such a calm and confident demeanor, he knew he had nothing to truly live for. Even his logic and dream was no longer something that he could strive for. The Blade Children were doing fine finding their own path without his help. They could find their own way.
But he resigned to the treatment anyways, keeping in mind that it wouldn't be his happiness; that he was forever damned to live a life that could never be truly fulfilled. So he was modest when they congratulated him, but never mentioned it otherwise. Of course, she was never there. No longer his pillar of support, she had no reason to come. After all, she said she would only see him once, and she kept true to her promise.
So he really was shocked when he met her another time. However, the circumstances called for silence between the two. It wouldn't do for the musician to flirt with the bride, now would it?
The only explanation he received was from the groom. It was a typical arranged marriage; however, he supposed the groom really did love her, from the way he talked about her. She never said a word. Only smiling genially, as if she were about to take a stroll, rather than marry… He echoed her behavior. But unable to hold his curiosity, he asked a question he disguised as a relationship test.
"In light of your marriage, I'd like to ask who you would prefer to last see before your death." The groom smiled brilliantly.
"This woman right next to me, of course!" There was a pause before said woman answered.
"The man I loved." The groom didn't seem to catch the past tense at the time. Those were the last words she would speak before she would lose her independence. The pianist bowed, hiding his face from the couple.
"I see. Very suitable answers from both of you. I'm afraid I must take my leave of you to attend to the piano." He couldn't put on a smile even if he wanted to.
As she walked down the aisle, beautiful, stunning in her simple white gown, he played a slow, beautiful, almost somber piece he himself composed.
"The music really suits the occasion, doesn't it? And it's so filled with emotion…" a guest whispered to her neighbor. However, she was deeply mistaken. There was no emotion, no meaning to the piece. At least, there wasn't now.
Those words that bound her freedom were spoken with a flash of pain in her eyes.
He was later approached by a few musically interested guests.
"Excuse us, but that piece you played during the ceremony was brilliant! Your own composition, correct? What's it entitled?" The genius's handsome features held an empty smile.
"Happiness, sir." The inquirers seemed confused.
"Not to insult the piece, but it seems rather somber and burdened, with a light sense of logic, rather than an upbeat tune." He only smiled mysteriously.
"Sir…that is what happiness is." They nodded, each interpreting his words their own way. "Would you like to hear it again?" They nodded enthusiastically, eager to see the master pianist at work. But he played only for one person: the one the piece was dedicated to. But the music that had once made perfect sense in his mind was now emotionless, void of any meaning. Across the room, the newly wedded bride recognized the tune being played again. It was the third time she had heard it in her life. And she realized the song was no longer for her. For the one it was dedicated to disappeared that day.
The tortured pair, formerly closer than lovers, became strangers as they sat in mutual silence, listening to empty melodies.
A/N: More like a long drabble, really. I should be working on my stories, but I had to get this oneshot out. It's actually like part of a story I wanted to do, but I held back because I need to work on my Hikaru no Go and The Girl Who Leapt Through Time stories. So fans of those: BE HAPPY! Those who don't care for those stories...sorry.
Now, about the actual oneshot. I wanted to heal Ayumu's arm while still keeping the mood somewhat like a tragedy. Why? Because fans think that it can't be a huge tragedy without his arm being disabled. I purposely left no names in the work because I felt that it wasn't conveying the right mood when I tried writing it with names. It's a little confusing and ambiguous, but I like it that way. You can interpret "that day" as some point in the story or some point in the fanfic. I didn't have a specific point in time in mind when I was typing the sentence.