hear my symphony

THE ANARCHYTECT - EMPTY ART.

exhausted was the best way that he could put it. of what he wasn't quite sure. perhaps it was the game he had just played, or the incompetent people of the beach he resided in. any of those numerous of things could be the cause of the stiffness of his limbs paired with the headache pounding in his head. would it also explain the depths of his ribcage that ached with an emptiness he couldn't quite place? one he couldn't fill no matter the things he did in his life.

his steps dragged among the carpet of the hall, avoiding the bodies going in the opposite direction so he could retreat to his room and sit in silence, fiddle with his gadgets, anything to distract himself of the feelings he lacked. he'd laugh at himself, how irony proved that not even in a world meant to teach you the value of ones life could fill the void.

"are you going to the show tonight? i heard the music they play is beautiful. we should definitely check it out, anything to forget about these dreaded games."

chishiya would hear passing conversations similar to the concept, ignoring the idea until he heard the melodies himself faint throughout the hall. it made him pause in his steps, staring into space as the keys of a piano reached his ears and seeped deep into his skin. he turned, surprising even himself as he redirected his direction to follow the crowd leading to the lobby. 'just curiosity', he would blame his actions on, 'it never did quite kill the cat'.

he finds a spot towards the back of the crowd, allowing him an escape were he to grow bored and a clear view of the middle of the room that had everyone in awe. a large grand piano glistened under the fluorescent yellow lights, being played by an individual he didn't recognize. he listened, quietly, and felt a sense of...what was it? dread? it squeezed inside his chest, painfully so that left him sharpening his gaze. no, it was familiarity. you were playing a tune all too familiar to what had previously plagued his thoughts.

so very strange for a human to be able to convey what made him feel apart from it. how did you do it? what was so special about you that allowed you to posses such an art form? a part of him grew envious of the talent, continuing to pick apart the form you held while playing in search for a reason. fingers that seemed to dance across the white keys, posture straight and yet not stiff enough for it flowed to the tune you manifest. eyes stayed strained to your hands, flickering up every once in a while to the pages written out to the notes of the song. hair pushed away from your face, sweat forming and revealing-

oh? this was different. such a small detail even he almost missed it. but the minuscule device in your ears, and now the notebook and pencil right beside you on the bench said it all. he was quite surprised due to the ease in which you played, but there was no doubt about it. you were deaf.

well, not deaf, perhaps just hard of hearing. but whether you could actually hear the notes chishiya wasn't sure. although it was strange how despite that, you still played. for what? what point was there when you, the composer, couldn't even enjoy the music? how'd you even know you were playing the right keys? did it matter to you?

definitely peculiar indeed. he found himself to be one of the last to weave out of the lobby.