'Life is so... beautiful and... unfair.'
Drip...
'Many are born complete and healthy, but without talent.'
Drip...
'Some are born with world-changing talent but never shine because of their status.'
Drip...
'And then there is me—who is neither healthy nor high in society, yet holds something that could change the perception of the world.'
Drip...
"Hudas, my friend... why did you betray me... Did I lack as a friend to you?"
Tears fell from his eyes, his voice rough, almost choking on his own blood and saliva.
His breath grew shorter and sharper with every passing moment.
Drip...
.
.
.
Thump.
His frail hands fell to the cold floor while trying to reach the fleeting light of the sunset.
His corpse lay flat, bleeding and alone, one hand still clutching his warm insides—contrasting the cold knife stained with blood beside him.
The last golden ray reflected in his blank eyes and said goodbye. So the eventide fell, and with it, his last tears of farewell.
"I lost everything..."
"I couldn't hear all my life, for I am born deaf, but you, my friend Hudas—I trusted you... because you're the only one who believed my foolish dream of composing the greatest music of all time. And I know that behind your supportive facade, you envied me so much. You were born with a silver spoon, yet a failure in life."
"Hudas, I... forgive you, even if you can't hear this forgiveness of mine, as for I never hear you once in my life."
Dread and otherworldly emptiness danced and embraced his soul, guiding towards the netherworld. But in the far distance, a force heard his cries and pitied his dying light.
"My friend... please continue our legacy even if they don't remember me."
His last goodbye echoed in the sea of consciousness, pulling the attention of the one who gazed.