The Musician

subconsciousness

Watari was walking home from school, the dim lights creating a romantic atmosphere. He sighed and muttered things under his breath to himself, like usual. Stupid Kaori. Stupid everyone. The only person worth anything besides Kousei and Yuri is Muiki. The only one.

As he unlocked the door to his house, he yelled, Okaasan! I'm home! He flung open the door and walked in, kicking off his shoes and putting on his house shoes. Watari moved swiftly through the halls and into the kitchen on instinct, grabbing two onigiri, which were waiting for him on a small plate. 

Turning away, he headed for the stairs, when he heard the soft sounds of classical. It must be Ai, he had thought, dismissing the sounds for his sister playing her music too loud. When he realized that Ai liked to listen to classical on a low volume, he ran up to his room, almost dropping the onigiri, his only snack until dinner. As Watari flung open the door, the sounds of Yuri's piano was ringing throughout his head. 

Her sound was so distinctive, it was impossible not to know it was her. She would always play to the score, never off by a single beat, but she had always made subtle changes to the song to make it tell a story. 

The sound of Yuri's playing was nothing like Kousei's, who's sound would hesitate and worry constantly. Yuri's would flow from section to section, like a river becoming a waterfall smoothly, the cascading down only to become a river again.

Watari pulled up the blinds to his window, only to see the beautiful girl who's piano playing he would hear everyday for six years, before her mother died and she stopped. The girl who's pale blond curls would always fall out of it's mess of a bun. 

The girl he had previously had a crush on until only a few months ago.

It had killed him to see Yuri so unable to control her life, and he couldn't offer anything to her. He felt so useless. Until he met Muiki. 

But that was a matter to go over later. 

Yuri was sitting at the piano she had avoided for years, the dust floating around the room as her fingers gracefully skipped over the keys. She created a beautiful sound, Watari realized. One he had never appreciated. He had only ever cared about looks, never about words or sounds or arts. Only looks.

Now, as he looked upon his best friend's sister, a flower of guilt bloomed in his chest. Accompanied by the subconscious thread of love he hadn't acknowledged for years. Watari denied it. He didn't love Yuri anymore. His interests were in different places. Like Muiki. He didn't care for this girl, one who's hazel eyes had been streaking with tears and glazed with pain for years, and still were. 

It would last for days, this internal fight within Watari. A thread of hope, a flower of guilt. A string of love, a wave of denial. 

All in his subconscious.