Dan sat down at the piano and began to play, his fingers brushing over the keys, tracing the pattern of the familiar melody he'd never forget. In his mind's eye, everything was still perfect; he was playing this the way it should have always been played, with him by his side. The warmth of his body pressing against his side, his blue eyes lighting up as he heard how all of the notes fit together perfectly, for him. Glancing over, and seeing his amazed smile light up his face. Feeling proud of himself, for writing something so beautiful that it never ceased to take either of their breath away. He looked to his right briefly, and the illusion was shattered. Nobody was sat next to him, sharing this, the way it should be.
That world wasn't real. It had been, once, but it was long gone. The nights they'd stayed up together, repeatedly playing it, Phil watching him with that unforgettable look of adoration in his eyes. Even thinking his name hurt. Everybody was wrong. Time doesn't heal all ones, it just allows them to grow and become infected, eating away at you until there's nothing left. Dan's hands moved automatically, there was nothing else but these notes, the rise and fall in the tempo, and if he could just hang on to them, everything would be okay. He would be okay.
It had never sounded sad to him before, but then Phil had always been there, and the music had been for him. Now it was just memories, memories that made him smile, but filled him with an aching sense of loss. Three minutes. Everything that had ever been important to him, written down into a melody, finished in exactly three minutes. Nobody else understood. They could hear the music, but they could never really hear it. They heard the notes, the patterns, but it was so much more than that. He could close his eyes, and see the oceans of electric blue staring back at him. If he listened, he could hear Phil's laugh, see the way he'd smile, and then cover his mouth with his hand to hide his tongue. Everything they'd ever done, every experience they'd ever shared, every time they'd laughed, kissed, fought, cried, it was all there. Everything,
A single tear slid down Dan's cheek, splashing onto his hand. He didn't stop to wipe it away. It became lost against the piano keys, just another part of himself he'd given to the music. To Phil. He remembered the times he had tried to teach this to Phil, giggling at how quickly he became frustrated with himself for playing the wrong notes. Phil didn't understand either. He couldn't get it right, because he wasn't playing it for Dan, and even then it wouldn't be the same. It was everything he'd ever felt for Phil, and it was perfect.
The melody drew to a close, Dan tracing his fingers over the now well-worn keys. Some of them hadn't been touched in years. He didn't need them. They weren't important. They didn't mean anything to him, they held places in other songs, but they weren't right. He began to play again, the song saying everything he could never put into words. I miss you. I'm sorry. I love you.