Chapter 5: Only Through Sound
Ava couldn't stop thinking about the music. It haunted her. The melody had sunk into her soul like a splinter lodged deep beneath the skin, impossible to ignore. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still hear it—the jagged, broken notes that had poured from Eli's fingers the night before. The raw emotion in each strike of the piano, the way it echoed through the room like a scream trapped in silence, reverberating in the darkest corners of her mind.
She hadn't seen him since that night. She'd hoped he might play again, that the music would return in the same way. But the silence in the art therapy center felt unbearable now. It had settled over everything, like a thick fog, muffling the world outside.
And so, she found herself outside the music room again, her hand hovering over the doorknob. It was late—past midnight—but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was calling her. That somewhere inside that room, Eli was waiting to be found again.
The door creaked open quietly as she stepped inside, and this time, the room was nearly pitch-black. She knew he was there before she saw him. She could feel the weight of his presence in the stillness. And then, she heard it—the soft, rhythmic sound of the piano. His fingers moving gently over the keys, slower than the night before, but still with that same haunting tenderness.
Ava closed the door behind her, the soft click of the lock echoing through the room, cutting off the outside world. She stood in the shadows, not moving, afraid to disturb him, yet drawn to the music like a moth to the flame.
Eli didn't stop playing. He didn't acknowledge her presence at first. He didn't need to. The music was his greeting, his way of saying more than words ever could. And as she listened, Ava began to feel something stir deep within her, something she hadn't felt in years—a sense of longing, of remembering.
She stepped closer, her footsteps barely making a sound against the wooden floor. Each step seemed to take her deeper into the music, into the world Eli had created in the darkness. She was no longer just a listener; she was part of it, lost in the rhythm of his song, as if they were moving together through the same space, even if they couldn't see each other.
Finally, he stopped.
The room fell completely silent, and for a moment, Ava felt the absence of sound like a weight pressing down on her chest. She had been holding her breath, waiting for something she couldn't name. But when Eli spoke, his voice was soft, almost hesitant.
"I didn't think you'd come back," he said, his tone laced with something that sounded like regret. But regret for what? Ava wasn't sure.
"I… I couldn't stay away," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile connection they had. "Your music… it's different. It's like it speaks to something inside me."
Eli didn't say anything at first. He turned his head slightly, but Ava could tell he wasn't looking at her. His eyes, those beautiful, unfathomable eyes, were forever closed to the world. But she didn't need him to see her. She didn't need him to look at her to feel the weight of his gaze. She could feel it, pressing against her skin like the warmth of the sun.
"What do you hear when you listen?" Eli asked, his voice soft, but there was something in it now—a kind of curiosity, a faint trace of vulnerability.
Ava hesitated. She had never really thought about it before, not in this way. Music had always been a background noise in her life, something she enjoyed, but never fully understood. But Eli's music—his music—was different. It was a raw expression of something deeper than she had ever known.
"I hear…" She paused, searching for the right words, but they felt impossible to find. "I hear pain. I hear grief, but also hope. It's like… like you're trying to pull something out of the dark, something that's been buried."
Eli was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely audible, like a breath caught in the wind. "That's exactly it. I'm… I'm trying to make sense of it all. The darkness. The silence. The music is the only thing I have left."
Ava's chest tightened at his words, and before she knew it, she was moving toward him, her feet carrying her without her consent. She stopped just a few feet away from him, unable to cross that last gap, not sure if she was allowed. But her heart was pounding, and her fingers itched to reach out, to touch the space where the music seemed to pour from him.
"I can't see your face," Eli said suddenly, as if reading her thoughts. "But I know you're here. I can hear you breathing. I can hear your heart beating. It's strange, isn't it? How much sound can reveal."
Ava didn't know how to answer. The room felt smaller now, the silence between them more charged. She could feel the distance between them, but she could also feel something else—a connection she couldn't explain. She had no idea what he was thinking, what he was feeling, but in that moment, it didn't matter. The music had filled the gap, had opened the door to something they could share that words could never touch.
"Eli," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "how do you make it through? How do you keep going when everything is so… so dark?"
He didn't answer right away, and for a moment, Ava wondered if he would ever speak again. But then, slowly, deliberately, he began to play again. This time, the music was slow and mournful, the notes almost tentative. It was as if he was opening himself up to her, piece by piece, through the sound.
"You just keep playing," he said softly, his fingers moving with a gentle rhythm. "Because even in the dark, the music is there. And sometimes, it's the only thing that keeps you from falling apart."
Ava closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. For the first time, she didn't feel alone in her own darkness. The room was still, the air thick with sound, but she wasn't lost. Not anymore.
And she knew, deep down, that neither was Eli.