Dear Melody

Chapter 1 : Snow Thaw

The room was engulfed in an eerie silence as the last echoes of the shattered notes faded into the air. My once beloved piano lay in ruins, its ivory keys scattered across the floor like broken dreams.

With trembling hands, I surveyed the damage, my breath hitching in my chest as a surge of frustration and despair consumed me. I couldn't bear the sound of my own playing anymore; each note felt like an accusation, a reminder of my inadequacy.

As crimson droplets seeped from the gashes on my fingers, I couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of relief, as if I had found a way to silence the relentless voice within me.

Finally, no more Urata Wataru the pianist.

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SLAP!

Shima's hand delivered a stinging blow to my cheek, and the once-calm and kind demeanor I had known for so long had vanished into thin air. "You think destroying your hands will solve anything?" His voice was laced with frustration.

"So what? You don't understand, Shima-kun. You never have." My words were edged with resentment, but beneath it all, an endless void seemed to engulf my chest.

"What?! You－"

Senra, my best friend, intervened before a real fight could unfold. He smiled at Shima, a knowing expression in his eyes. "Shima-kun, please. We're in a hospital."

I could hear a subtle click of Shima's tongue as he turned and left my room. I understood his anger. I had not only shattered my own dreams but also his dreams for me. Not that any of it mattered anymore.

"Uratan." Senra stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. "He might have been harsh, but I agree with him."

Of course, you would side with him, I thought bitterly. After all, you're his lover. Though Senra's gaze displayed genuine concern, I found it hard to accept. I turned my gaze to the window, where the night offered nothing but darkness, devoid of stars or a moon.

"We can't help you if you don't say anything," Senra's tone softened. Those words felt like a dull knife slowly piercing through me. I was surprised I still felt guilt.

A heavy silence settled among us, filling the sterile hospital room with unspoken tension.

"I don't need your help."

Senra blinked, and a hint of sadness crossed his face. While I could have ended it all with that sentence alone, he refused to avert his gaze, as if waiting for me to divulge the reasons, no matter how long it took.

Unwillingly, my mouth quivered slightly.

"I'm just... sick of everything."

Even as I closed my eyes, welcoming the embrace of unconsciousness, I could still feel it. Senra's golden eyes rested on me with a mixture of understanding and sorrow, as if my response was both the answer he sought and the one he had feared.

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Unfortunately, my hands weren't as severely injured as I initially thought. While they would require a significant amount of time to heal and some rehabilitation, the damage wasn't as dire as that pitcher I had seen on television, whose shoulder injury had ended his baseball career. Perhaps just a scar or two which I don't care much.

What a shame, I anticipated I would think, but contrary to my expectation of feeling either disappointment or relief, I was enveloped in an unsettling numbness. I no longer comprehended my own desires. One thing was clear: I had no desire to touch the piano ever again. The mere thought of pressing down on those keys was enough to make me want to destroy it, but I couldn't bring myself to do that again. Shima would be burdened. After all, I had to admit, piano is expensive after all.