Two Pieces of a Puzzle ✔

Chapter One

ELIOTT 

My fingers danced across the once white keys that had now been stained a creamy yellow with time, hitting every note with such accuracy you could nearly hear the pain and longing the player had been burdened to carry for a decade. 

I shut my eyes. Something I'd never dared attempt before, perhaps because I was afraid of ruining the rhythm. But, this time, it was different. 

I was playing his song. Our song. 

And even with my eyes closed, my fingers carried on with their mesmerizing waltz, and the music reached straight to my ears and rushed to my heart. Then came the heartache, as each note produced a talon of it's own and pierced into my heart, draining every last emotion out mercilessly. 

My back was aching from having sat in front of the piano for nearly six hours, I believe it had been. But the ache was nothing compared to the ache I'd been carrying for an entire decade, and more to come. 

There was only one thing on my mind. 

Him. 

With every note, I could envision a certain distinct feature of his. The minor notes reminded me of his voice that was so uniquely hoarse, from having been a former smoker, and the major ones reminded me of his smile. 

That smile. 

My fingers came to a sudden halt at the recollection of that smile. 

And then they began to shake, as did my vision - and it didn't hit me until I felt something wet on my finger that I was crying. 

Not again.

"You almost had it this time!" 

I quickly wiped away the evidence of my pain with the back of my sleeves before turning around with a forced smile, "Got distracted, sorry."

"Sounded great," Toby commented, taking a seat on the edge of my bed with a yawn. "What made you stop?"

I didn't answer. 

I couldn't.

I fidgeted with my fingers, blinking furiously. 

He noticed, and I wished he wouldn't bring it up, but he did, "You were crying?"

"Don't ask, it's just going to make me cry more," I warned with a light-hearted chuckle in the hopes that he'd let it go.

And he did. 

"Wanna play pool with the boys today?" 

"Not today."

"That's what you said yesterday, and the day before, and every other day before that," he said, shaking his head, his ginger curls bouncing. "You've gotta live a little."

"I am living."

"No, you're existing."

"Same thing."

"No, it isn't-" he began, but cut himself off with a disappointed sigh once the realization hit him that nothing would alter my state of thinking. 

After all, this was how I'd been for the past ten years. 

I looked down at my hand and pulled my sleeve back just an inch, and proceeded to rub the pad of my thumb over the puzzle on my wrist. 

The puzzle piece tattoo him and I had gotten together in that nasty garage. A friend of ours had tattooed it onto us - he said he was practicing to become a tattoo artist - but somehow, he messed up and tattooed the same piece onto the both of us. 

I was supposed to be one piece, he was supposed to be the other half which fit perfectly into mine. 

But we ended up being the same piece - and thus, would never fit. 

Now that I think about it; that could've been a sign from the universe. The universe was probably saying, 'Get out of your head, even forever comes to an end'.

"What are you going to do in here all day if you're not going to come play with us?" Toby said after a moment of silence. 

"Probably stay in and stare at the moon, like always."

It was a habit I'd picked up after having to let him go. I found myself gawking at the moon, entranced by it's beauty, like I'd been with him. It's quite cheesy and embarrassing admitting this, but it were as if I were attempting to fill in the void he'd created with his departure by forcing something else in it's place. 

But nothing seemed to work. 

Nothing could replace that voice of his, that longing stare of his, those beautiful dark eyes of his, and especially that heart-stopping smile. 

God, that smile. 

"You don't get bored of doing that all night?"

I didn't answer. 

I would never get bored. 

After all, all I did while staring at the moon was think about him. 

God, I was such a mess. I was so done for. 

"Am I ever going to get over him?" I said out loud in a daze. 

"Over.." he began, before finally catching on. "Eric?"

And when he said his name, all those memories came flooding back once more, like a giant wave; and they crashed down onto me all at once, stirring up all my emotions like a vigorous whirlpool, sending my heart into a momentary state of panic. 

"Sorry, shouldn't have said his name, huh?"

"It's okay. I'm going to have to move on some day."

"You should start with getting that tattoo removed," he suggested, probably attempting to be nice. "It's what keeps you attached to him.. and that song as well."

The song he'd spent hours trying to teach me whilst we sat together in front of the shiny new piano in his room. Occasionally, I'd mess up on purpose, just to have him place his hands on top of mine and reposition my fingers. Just the rush of electricity I felt from my hands making contact with him was enough to make my day. 

"I wish I could."

"Could what?"

"Move on."

"Why can't you?"

"He wouldn't want me to."

He paused for a moment before sighing, "He would. He's probably out there living his life while you're here sulking. Listen man, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but maybe you should get out there and try living your life as well. Live, don't just exist."

"Same thing."

"No."

"Yes."

"You make nothing when you're merely existing. You only make memories when you're living, Eliott."