His Name is Oxygen

Prelude

Prelude

As I sat nestled in the corner of The Bitter End café, surrounded by the hushed whispers of Greenwich Village and the soft melodies wafting from the piano, I struggled to stifle the tears that threatened to betray my composure. 

The familiar hum of the place, its cozy ambiance, and the dimly lit corners had always been a refuge for lost souls like me. But tonight, it was where I found myself unraveling, reeling from the shards of a shattered love story.

Aste—his name echoed through my mind, each syllable a pang of heartache. The memories flooded back, taunting me with moments that once danced in the golden hues of happiness. They felt like distant echoes of a past life where love didn't ache.

Damn you, hard Aste!

I pulled my coat tighter around me as if the fabric could shield me from the emotional tempest raging within. My eyes, swollen from relentless tears, scanned the room absently, hoping for a distraction, a fleeting moment of solace.

And then I saw him.

A figure draped in the Fordham University uniform, fingers effortlessly dancing across the piano keys, orchestrating a melody that seemed to encapsulate the melancholy that hung heavy in the air. His presence was magnetic, drawing the room's attention like a silent conductor amid a chaotic symphony.

But it wasn't his music alone that caught my eye. His enigmatic aura, the air of mystery, clung to him like an invisible cloak. Dark tousled hair framed a face with an unreadable expression, and his eyes—oh, those mismatched eyes—were a kaleidoscope of intrigue. One a deep, captivating emerald, the other a mesmerizing shade of sapphire, a beautiful irregularity that beckoned a thousand unanswered questions.

I wiped away the last tear trailing down my cheek, momentarily forgetting the ache in my heart as I found myself inexplicably drawn to this stranger. His fingers continued ballet on the piano keys, coaxing emotions I hadn't dared to confront. Yet, there was a distant sadness in those eyes that mirrored my own.

Lost in this unspoken connection, my mind couldn't help but conjure a single thought: "Who the hell is that guy?"

Those mismatched eyes flickered in my direction as if sensing my gaze, catching mine in a fleeting moment of unspoken understanding. The world around us seemed to blur, the sounds muted, as if we existed in a separate realm where only our silent conversation prevailed.I averted my eyes, feeling a blush creep onto my cheeks. Yet, the curiosity lingered, tugging at the corners of my heart. In a place where broken souls sought refuge, someone seemed to hold a story of his own—a story waiting to unfold.

I took a shaky breath, feeling a glimmer of something unfamiliar amidst the wreckage of my emotions. Perhaps, in this bitter end, I had stumbled upon the beginning of something uncharted beyond the shattered fragments of my past.

I wiped away my tears, drawing courage from the unknown, and ventured closer to the piano. With each step, the clinks of my heels against the floor resonated like a heartbeat in rhythm with the melancholic melody. The mysterious pianist continued to play, his eyes never leaving the keys. Yet, his awareness of my presence lingered in the air.

"Hi," I murmured softly, unsure if he'd heard me over the haunting music that enveloped us.

He glanced up, the corner of his lips tugging into a faint smile, a silent acknowledgment of my existence. His gaze held a depth that felt like diving into an ocean of secrets. For a moment, the world around us faded into insignificance.

"Hi," he replied, his voice a melodic whisper that blended seamlessly with the mournful tune of the piano.

As the melancholic notes of the piano continued to fill the air, I dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, those mismatched eyes held the key to a story yet untold—one that might rewrite the broken melodies of my life into a symphony of unexpected harmony.

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Yumi: Hello there, fellas! It is my first time writing this story, unedited and full of grammatical errors. Hopefully, you'll like it. <3

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