All the Universe's Music

EVERY TIME YOU hit the keys on the piano, and feel the music you make as if your whole life depends on it, all I can ever think about was that I want to be always there for you. I want to be there for you in your darkest days. I want to be there for you until you get the big break that you will always deserve. I want to be by your side every time you perform. I want to be by your side every time you smile as you share your music to the world.

        “Hey, Ash . . .,” you had said. We had been sitting by the grand piano of the university’s music room when you  stopped practicing to call my name, while I had been holding the guitar you had brought earlier.

        You had been so talented.

        I had remembered that moment when everything was still fine with you. When you still had the glint of hope and ray of light in your gray eyes.

        “Yeah?” I had replied.

        “I can ask you anything, right?”
I had smiled before I replied. “Of course you can.”

        “Okay . . .”

        But before you could continue what you were about to say, I had already intervened. “But . . . it’s up to me if I will answer it or not.” I had flashed a mischievous grin after, making you chuckle—which I had really admired. It had been through your chuckle that I knew if was still making you happy even though I had a dry sense of humor. It had been with the color of your chuckle that I knew if you still accepted me for who I really was.

        Your chuckle had always been silver, a tad shinier and lighter than the color of your eyes.

        “Oh-kay . . . but you still have to answer my question. I’m giving you no choice but to answer it.”

        My brows had slightly arched, but I had worked hard to hide it from you, lest you should think I’m being feisty again. “Fine.”

        “Ashley, when I talk, what does the color of my voice look like?” you had finally asked. From the look on your face and the way you had said my name, I had already known you were eager to hear my answer.

        Before we had become a couple, you had always known I had synesthesia. When I had first mentioned it, you had said it was cool to see colors of sounds, and smell smells of colors. I had first thought of my condition as a curse, because I didn’t want my other senses to be triggered by my other senses. I just hadn’t shared the same opinion as yours about my condition. I had just wished for my synesthesia to be passed on to someone who found it cool—which was you.

        But after you had said my condition was cool, I started to embrace it. At least, when I had started seeing you more than just a friend, I can always enjoy your silver-gray voice. It may sound cheesy but, your voice wasn’t only music to my ears, but also a gem to my eyes. From then on I had seen it as a blessing.

        You had waved your hand across my face, trying to pull me out of my reverie. And so I’d done. “Y—yeah?”

        “I know you said it’s up to you if you’re gonna answer my question or not, but to me it’s really important, Ash. I mean it. Like, we’ve been together for two years and every time I ask you that you always become qui—”

        I had pulled you into a hug to shut you up. “You really want to know?” I had asked. There was no reason why I hadn’t wanted to answer Clarence’s question as to the color of his voice. For me, I just hadn’t felt like answering it. I hadn’t known why.

        You had hugged me back, with your hands patting my back. “Man, you could’ve just kissed me or whatever if you wanted me to shut up.” You’d chuckled again, and so I’d seen that color again. “But seriously, though. Ash?”