Two Pieces of a Puzzle ✔

Chapter Twenty

[A/N; again, you know the drill!<3]

ELIOTT

Once again, he gave me no chance to respond. He had already begun playing. 

And the moment his finger hit the first key on that piano of his, I felt an immense blanket of nostalgia drape itself over me to the point where I was entangled with no point of escape. I didn't know what to say - and even if I did, I didn't possess the words to say it. 

He was playing our song. 

The song I had spent hours and hours trying to perfect after his departure. 

The song I could never play fully right because it reminded me a painful amount of him. 

And here he was, playing it for me. 

Another memory came floating back from a decade ago. 

Eric and I were seated beside each other in front of his piano that shone so beautifully under the rays of the moon that found themselves into his room through the half-opened window of his bedroom. With the light came the wind. The wind that took little to no time in scattering the pages of the song he had been working on all over the room. 

He was unfazed by it. He carried on with his song, his fingers reminded me of a graceful dancer. He had his eyes shut and his head tilted back ever so slightly; and the way the wind washed over his hair mixed with the melody in the air sent me into a state of euphoria could never be put into words. 

I watched him in awe as the sheets of his song flew all over the room mercilessly. The lights in his room had been switched off so as to not attract any attention, but even in the darkness, I could make out the smile on his face as he moved his head to the rhythm. 

All I did was sit and watch. 

I watched as he leaned forward, and with his eyes still closed, slowed down. I would have never noticed how his fingers had decreased their pace if I hadn't spent hours practicing the song with him; even then, I couldn't bring myself to play the song with him

"Stop," I blurted out. "Elias, stop for a second. I have an idea."

"Oh? Alright," he responded, the melody coming to a complete halt. 

I raced over to the piano sitting in the corner of my room and pulled back the cover before resting my phone on top of it. I placed my fingers on the keys, and with a deep breath, I said, "Can you start from the beginning?"

"Of course!" was all he said.

And the moment he started all over again, I did too. 

I played with him. 

I noticed how his pace decreased, as if he were in shock that I knew the song as well, but nonetheless; he pick up his pace and continued playing. 

And so the two of us played our piece together, not uttering a single word, simply enjoying each other's presence. 

We were playing our song. 

I shut my eyes, pushing aside the nagging fear that I might mess up midway through the song. 

And it were as if I'd almost teleported myself to that place, beside Eric, in front of his piano, ten years ago. 

I could almost feel the wind brushing through my hair, stroking the sides of my face; I could almost hear the sheets flying around in the room; I could almost feel the light of the moon striking my face at that particular angle from his bedroom window; I could almost feel him next to me, playing with me.

I could nearly hear his fingers moving with mine. 

And all at once, I was no longer a twenty-something year old man playing the piano with another twenty-something year old man over the phone. 

All at once, I was a nineteen year old boy beside his lover as the both of them played their favourite song to their heart's content, not once daring to open their eyes or let a single word escape their lips. 

And just as soon as it had begun, it all came to an end. 

He stopped playing just when I did; and for a moment, the two of us said nothing. 

I had managed to play the song without messing it up for the first time in ten whole years. 

"How do you know that song?" he asked, breaking the curious silence. 

"I.. told you that you remind me of someone I used to know," was all I said. 

"Do you remember who I am now, then?" he questioned, his voice soft and afraid. 

I took in a deep breath. 

This was it. 

"I do."

"You do?"

"I do," I repeated.

"You do," he spoke with a sigh. 

A sigh of relief but pain. 

He was hurting just as much as I was. 

"Don't tell me," he requested. "Please don't tell me. I can't remember, I don't want to. I really don't."

"You remember me as well, don't you?"

I heard him suck in a painful breath before letting out, "Yes, Eliott. I remember you."

"Do you really?" was all I said, with a racing heart. 

"I do," he repeated.

"You do."