Prompt: “You can not change what you refuse to confront.”
Fandom/Series: Your Lie in April/Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso
Word Count: 774
Summary: If Arima Kousei refused to confront Miyazono Kaori’s death, he would never find the closure he needs. Perhaps, he can find his closure through one last performance, a requiem to spring.
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
To many people, Miyazono Kaori existed inside of spring. She was a moment, a second, a fleeting glimpse of petals falling over dancing grass. Kaori was a passionate violinist who could convey every single emotion, movement, feeling through her free-spirited music.
To Arima Kousei, Kaori was an explosive girl with a love for canelés and quirky quotes. She was loud, violent and was determined to leave her impression on him, no matter the cost.
Kousei stared down at the piano keys before him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seem them so clean. It always surprised him to see the polished tiles, a vast improvement from the dust that had clouded them for years. Cleaning the piano meant confronting why it had been dirtied in the first place. Playing the piano meant confronting the reason why he’d stopped playing. However many times he saw clean keys, memories of dusty keys would follow. Confrontation lead to memories that would better be left forgotten. Often, memories of Miyazono Kaori lead to grief. That couldn’t be helped. But - of course -, like he’d learnt, Kaori was different. She was worth remembering. She was on his mind every time he passed the train tracks, even without her physically beside him, he would still stop and stare into the depths of the water beneath courage bridge.
“Do you think you’ll be able to forget?”
"How selfish.” Kousei whispered, watching his tears fall on the white keys, pooling together before slipping in between thin cracks. Of course he couldn’t forget her. She came barging into his toneless life with a wooden violin and books of scores. How are you supposed to forget someone like that? How are you supposed to forget someone you love?
He found his hands moving on their own, fingers dancing across spruce keys, head bowed and eyes pressed shut to stop the tears that felt like acid on the back of his hands.
“Whether you’re sad, you’re a mess, or you’ve hit rock bottom, you still have to play! That’s how people like us survive."
“I know that.” His words quivered, his lips trembled, and he played with grace. Of course he has to play, of course he has to remember. Without music, how could he remember how it felt to have her stand in front of him? How could he remember the look she flashed him over her shoulder? How could he remember her free spirit through anything besides music? He wanted to remember her through music; he wanted to remember her through paper scores.
“We risk our lives to struggle because we’re musicians.” His vision blurred, the music pounded through his head like thunder. He no longer played like he was embracing the piano, but he did not play like he was fighting against it either. If he listened closely, if he played louder, he could hear her. He could hear her, he could feel her beside him, he could see her. She was not only in his heart, she was in music. She was in every note, every score, every time his fingers hit the keys he could see her smile. The music no longer sounded like thunder, but the pounding of her heart. Violin chords reached his ears, and he turned to his right, heart leaping in his chest at the sight girl he loved. She danced around, a grin on her face, plucking happily at the metal strings of her violin. He briefly wondered how she could be so carefree, and his breath caught in his throat, tears slipping from the corners of his azuline orbs.
“Sorry I didn't finish all the canelés."
“You’re ultra-violent.” His shoulders shook.
“Sorry I hit you so much.”
“Your personality blows.” His voice quivered.
“Sorry I was such a brat.”
“And you leave the worst impression.” He pressed his eyes shut, shaking his head.
“Sorry a million times over…”
“But… You’re beautiful.” His lips curled upwards, bitter sweet against the tears that streamed down his face. He flashed the girl beside him one last glance, watching her cerulean orbs curl shut as a bright grin crossed her flushed cheeks. Her body swayed, blonde hair catching the light as it bounced around her fragile form. The music died down, everything was silent, Kousei watched her eyes slip shut, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. A breeze blew through the open window, Kaori’s dress fluttered, but no sound could be heard. They existed inside their moment. Kaori’s lips opened and closed, mouthing silent words. Kousei’s smile wavered when their eyes met for the last time.
"I love you too, Miyazono Kaori."
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