He pressed a chord on the piano, randomly, slowly. It chilled him - a minor chord, he didn't care which. But he didn't look down at his fingers. They didn't matter, nothing did, nothing mattered. The sound faded out. He played it again, smashing it, not caring how much his hand hurt.
He couldn't think of the memories he didn't have. He couldn't think of the ones he did. In the back of his mind, he saw her, like always.
"You don't remember?"
"You don't remember me?"
He swallowed, hard, and reached across the keys. He didn't know what he was doing, and did it matter? Left hand pressing slowly and deliberately, that same chord, even lower, wrenching his stomach. right hand fluttering, quick and short. He could never put them together. His left was slow, right was fast. It always was.
She was helping him to fix it, teaching him, coaxing and quiet. Never did he doubt he loved her, he just didn't know why.
Before he knew it, a croaky voice echoed through the room. It was his. No... He wasn't supposed to think about her red face, crying and crumpled and -
No.
But there she was, now almost as real as he had seen her in the hospital.
Love is a secret.
Stop it stop it stop it. His right hand came down with a crash, discordant, angry. The sight of her - he could see her so clearly - tugged at him. He didn't really know why.
Don't call it a game.
He knew why, though, but not really. She told him that he loved her, that she loved him. Fiction. Unreal. As believable as a unicorn sighting.
No, no, it was all wrong. His right hand was fluttering, high pitched D's and F's pinging off like screams, like her screams, like his...
I want it to stop.
She was standing there, right in front of him, begging, pleading, if only he could remember.
I don't want to play.
And he wanted to yell, wanted to pound his fist on the piano, making the mournful sounds. But it was his fingers, really, that were the cause. Splintering, cracking, breaking. Shards of wood went every direction, ivory keys ripped away -
No, it was all in his head.
I wish I could remember.
There was something, just out of reach for him, waiting, teasing. It infuriated him. Always there, watching him suffer.
I wish I could forget.
Sometimes he saw little memories, a picnic, a pet store, and they were gone, blinked away, snapped out of his mind. Cruel, torturous.
Watching you cry those eyeliner tears.
His left hand was moving faster, playing different chords, different sounds. All minor, melancholy. He didn't notice. Too busy choking out meaningless words and phrases.
Wish I could forget...
Fluttering, copying his right. He was doing it.
"See? Look at your hands! It's so beautiful, Lys!"
Head snapping up, fingers abruptly stopping. Another snapshot, a snap of her happiness, her radiant smile -
What did I mean to you?
She was so happy, so proud. Running towards him, whipping out her phone to capture the moment. Maybe he smiled at the camera. Maybe he was too busy trying to impress her...
Don't tell me, it doesn't matter...
It shouldn't have ended. It did though, leaving him grasping at nothing, at that empty space where her smile was.
But do you miss me too?
He could've started over, could've tried to remake what they had. The doubt that he could live up to what he was, what he used to be, it overcame him. He couldn't.
Love is a challenge.
Should've gotten up and left that desolate room. But the piano called to him. He didn't want to play anymore though. It made him remember -
No. He will get up, he will leave. Please, listen...
Don't call it a gift.
Singing again. Feet not moving, arms reaching for those white keys, itching. He reached, reached...
Don't leave, but don't come back.
Dammit. He's playing, both hands fluttering, gliding. Perfectly, just how she liked. He knew that now. Knew how hard she had tried to fix him, fix his playing. He remembered that, out of anything, he remembered that.
It's just makeshift, right?
The piano sent shivers through him, worse than the thoughts racing through his head. Goosebumps, arms, legs, under that thick coat. Why was he wearing it again? Did he even care?
I want to remember.
She would be proud, and that made him feel worse.
I want to forget.
Stop it stop it stop it! He could see her again, right there, crying. Trails of makeup down her face -
Watched you cry your eyeliner tears...
This was too hard. Too much. He should find her, apologize, stare at her beautiful face and maybe she'll smile that smile... Maybe she won't cry, so he'll show her his left hand that can flutter now.
I want to remember.
No...
It was too late. She was gone. Maybe she still lived here, but even so, there was no chance for him. He's the one who forgot her, anyways. It didn't matter.
The piano clanged out the keys now. Left hand following right, playing tag across the piano, chasing, searching. But it was time to leave.
Ending in the same chord as it had begun, the damper pedal making a dull thud when he released his foot, the bench screeching. A hard swallow and he was gone, leaving footsteps and those sweet memories.
One may find the chilling words, the heartbreaking laments of half a person, in his abandoned notebook. One may find the empty pages following it, and nonsense and fragmented words preceding it. One may find the broken man (or boy?) lying on his bed, dreaming of fluttering hands playing a piano, singing a forgotten song with words only he knew. One may find the dust settling in the crisp white keys, the bench, the ornately carved wood.
Hello! I didn't want to bother you before you even read the story, so the author's note is down here. I'm sophiatheidiot and this is officially my first fanfiction on this website! This is a WAY different style than my usual, so excuse me for inconsistencies. I also wrote this on my phone, so there's bound to be typos and such.
Constructive criticism is appreciated and honestly, asked for. I'm always looking to improve!
Reviewing would be really nice! Even following and favoriting me or the story is awesome. I hope you enjoyed. Any questions, personal reviews, etc.? Just message me!
Um, I don't really know what else to put down here... Uh, have a nice day?
Byyyyyyyyyye!
I would like to point out in light of recent messages and reviews that the "song lyrics" in this story are not copyrighted material and therefore do not violate site rules. Thank you!