Seven Weeks: A Seven Days Fanfiction

WEEK SEVEN: Monday → Tuesday (Touji)

I lowered the phone with a knot in my throat. Despite my brave words to Yuzuru, now that night had come and he wasn't here, I was a bit lost. I should do exactly what I told him I would: go upstairs, take a shower and my sleep medication, and go to bed. Or try to, anyway. But part of me didn't want to go back to my room. It was going to feel so empty... I wasn't ready to face that.

He'd been right to stop me from going with them. The way I felt right now... if I was in his house trying to say goodbye at this moment, it would never work. He'd said he wasn't strong enough for that. Well, neither was I. I wished I could have helped him today. I wished I could have held him a few more times, stolen a few more kisses. But I knew as well as he did, there was no way we'd be able to stop there. At least this way he would get some sleep.

"There you are," Grandfather said from behind me. "You disappeared after dinner."

Shimizu wheeled Grandfather's wheelchair into the sitting room, parked him near the fireplace, then took a seat in the burgundy velvet armchair at his side. Grandfather reached over and took Shimizu's hand in his with a fond smile.

From my spot on the formal couch, I held up my phone. "I was just talking to Yuzuru-san, Grandfather."

"Ah, I see. Did he get home safely?"

"Mm. He's getting some rest before school tomorrow." I put the phone down in my lap and sighed. "I guess I should head upstairs and do the same."

"Are you excited about starting your new school?"

Honestly? Not at all. But I gave Grandfather the most optimistic smile I could muster. "I'm sure it will be great."

He hummed a little, like he knew how I really felt. "Before you go, could I talk you into a song or two?" He raised a hand toward the baby grand piano across the room. "It's been a while since I've heard you play."

"Er... It's been a while since I've played," I said sheepishly. My fingers were twitching, though, as if they liked the idea. The piano used to be something that calmed me immensely,  especially after a nightmare. And while I hadn't practiced in ages, suddenly the sleek black instrument looked very appealing.

Grandfather flapped his hand at me. "Psh. It's like riding a bike. Try it out, won't you?"

I went to the piano bench and tugged it back a little so I could sit down. Then I opened the lid that covered the keys. They were pure white, smooth, and perfectly shaped. I pressed a few, listening to the rich reverberations inside the cabinet, and enjoying the soft, satisfying feel as they responded to my fingertips. The pedals had nice movement too, and just the act of sitting in front of the keyboard had already loosened some of the tension in my shoulders.

"Um, what do you want to hear, Grandfather?"

"That one you always used to play during your visits. It was clearly your favorite, and you performed it so beautifully."

A River Flows In You. Maybe one of the most emotional pieces of music ever written, and he was right, it had always been my favorite. I laid my hands on the keys, wondering for a moment if I'd even remember it after all this time. What was that first line again?

But my fingers didn't need my memory, they had their own. They found the right notes without any prompting on my part, caressing the keys like worship, filling the big space of the sitting room with the sweet, familiar melody.

I hadn't composed this song, but it still felt like it came from some deep place inside me. Even after all this time, it was like this song rode the waves of my emotions—or maybe it was the other way around—and carried with it every wistful, joyful, mournful feeling I knew. Sadness engulfed in hope. Beauty edged with regret. I had no idea if that was even what the composer had in mind when he wrote it, but that was what it did to me every time.