Thin Walls ~ SakuAtsu Short Story

Epilogue

Atsumu stared at the large envelope in his hands. The man in front of him read off of a paper, almost emotionless. 

"Atsumu Miya, twenty-eight music pieces in sheet form, a small white piano, anything needed from Sakusa Kiyoomi's apartment, a letter, and a copy of The Fault in Our Stars by John Green." 

Atsumu looked over at Komori, who was Sakusa's cousin. The other male was holding a box to his chest, whispering hurriedly to himself and trying not to cry. 

When the person reading the will left, Komori turned to Atsumu. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"For what?" 

"For being there for him. He never had friends and had a hard time with others. He hated to be touched. But he would tell me about you. One of those pieces has your name in the title. He loved you and you were his best friend. Thank you for being there."

"I couldn't…" Atsumu sighed softly. "I couldn't ignore him. He was amazing."

Komori nodded. "I guess I'll see you Saturday…" 

"I'm playing then. I'm playing his piece "Life" and Novule Bianche. It was our favorite."

Komori's eyes watered. "He recorded when he heard you playing that once…" 

"Oh…"

****

At Sakusa's funeral, Atsumu wore a black polo and dark, dark dress pants. He sat at the piano and played their music, smiling. 

He could almost feel Sakusa sitting with him on that bench, their thighs pressed together as they huddled close. 

Sakusa's hands had sometimes pressed keys near his and they would sync and smile. 

Atsumu could hear his little whispers of rare praise, the ones telling him about his love for Atsumu's style. He could see that little smiled and his curls and two small freckles. 

That was what he cherished. 

He'd seen the body of his lover already and had put his hand on Sakusa's still chest. He had smiled at his figure, knowing he'd never see him again but knowing he wasn't hurting anymore. 

Atsumu started recording himself playing Sakusa's pieces and let the world hear the music that Sakusa had hidden for years. He smiled despite the pain it brought him. 

This is what he loved. 

Somehow, someway, people found the recordings, and he was put up for a show where he got to play. 

He could talk for hours and play. He played regular music at fancy dinner parties and got paid enough to move out of his home. His fingers tapped the walls one last time and he took his things and Sakusa's things with him. Sakusa's piano stayed in the living room and his own was sold. 

He filled the small home with love and bought small plants and a cat to keep him company. His hands worked at composing music, one having Sakusa's name in the title. 

He shared everything with the world about his music and played for auditoriums. He loved this. 

He loved the lights and the music and the people and the purity he felt when he played. People didn't know what this music meant but they were brought to tears because of it. 

****

"My name is Atsumu Miya and I'm the founder of The Sakura Lung Foundation." Atsumu gestured to the screen behind him. "That is Sakusa Kiyoomi. The reason for this foundation. I started all of this because of him and for his memory. At the time I met him he only had eight months to live. I knew him for five months." 

Atsumu sat on the stool behind him.

"I loved him more than anything in the world. He passed away five years ago because of lung cancer caused by second-hand smoking. His mother smoked when he was young and kept smoking even while she had lung cancer of her own.

"He's the reason why I stopped smoking. The reason I'm trying to get others to stop smoking. Causing your children to get lung cancer is something a shitty parent does. There are ways to stop. There's a way to stop yourself and your children from deteriorating into sickly people scared for the end." 

Atsumu stood up and took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. 

"This is the last pack I bought. When I knew him. There are seventeen cigarettes in here." He put it back and looked into the crowd. "How many of you smoke?"

A little less than half of the group rose their hands. 

"How many of you want to stop?" 

Half of that half raised their hands. He smiled. 

"Thank you." Atsumu backed up and went to the piano. He turned his head. "Every night I would play Novule Bianche to him through the walls of our cheap apartments." His fingers tapped the keys gently as the song started. "He left a letter to me wishing me to play it for more people."

His fingers sped up. "These next eleven songs are the final songs he made about his life." 

Over the next hour and a half, he played and played, feeling lighter. He just wished that Sakusa could hear this. He prayed that this would comfort someone. 

When he finished, he walked alone. The air was cold. It was November 25th. 

The American Thanksgiving. The day that he heard playing through his thin walls. 

Snow crunched under his shoes as he walked through the gates of a large field-looking area. He walked along rows and rows of stones. 

He found the headstone he'd wanted to see. He bent down and brushed away the snow and took out the little pink flowers from his pocket. They were fake but he wanted fresh-looking ones for his loved one. 

He put them on the snow and smiled. "Hey, Omi. Hope you're okay right now." He kissed his index and middle finger and pressed them to the cold stone. "I played our song again. Everyone loved it. And my new song… I love you." 

The wind blew by him and it felt like a kiss on his cheekbone. He hummed. 

"Thank you." Atsumu stood up and took a deep breath. He turned to head home, just enjoying the chilled air. 

When he got home he curled up with his cat, Ikigai. The little one laid against his chest as he drifted off, his quiet apartment with thicker walls reminding him of his second home. 

Where he met his life and where it was taken from him and where he grew. Tonight, his bed was warm. He felt Sakusa with him even if it was his mind. And really in truth, this brought sweeter air to his own healthy lungs. 

F I N