My mind raced with ideas as I stumbled towards the upright piano in the corner of my room.

January 4th. 

32 days away.

The piano keys felt cold against my fingers. I pushed down on the keys, sending the warm notes to fill the room and a trail of warmth down my spine. Reigniting the embers of my life, the melodies wrapped around my body, holding me in its warm embrace. The rich harmonies thawed the icy air, bringing the room into warm tones. The walls turned an autumnal orange, the sunrise outside my window brought a kaleidoscope of different hues to the curtains, and the fireplace relit, lighting the room behind me.

Remnants of memories rushed through my mind as my fingers took my body on a journey. My mother’s arms wrapped around my body, bringing warmth to my core. Radiating the flames of my life, I saw my home, bustling with excitement. The children running through the halls, their faces bright with innocence, held onto each other as they laughed on the floor. They jumped down the stairs to chase each other and jumped in place when they caught each other. Their purest innocence tugged at my gut. 

Fighting back my tears, my fingers tightened. My breath shallowed, and the fires disappeared. The sunrise disappeared into the clouds. The walls returned to an apathetic white. The air was sapped of heart, and the room turned an icy blue. The music narrowed into small blades, slicing through the air and razing the surface of my skin. I could see my misty breaths in front of me as I played. Each note pierced through the icy air, making me flinch at every key pressed. 

Through the muddled notes and melodies, the music was just the frame of a magnificent sculpture. The sketch of a beautiful painting. The roots and stem of a flower. Imagining a soaring melody over my hands at the piano, the music, as it was, felt incomplete. 

I stood up from the piano and walked towards the door to the outside. I picked up my coat, and as I opened the door, cold air rushed into my face. Quickly rushing out, I closed the door behind me and walked into the bustling town. Gusts of wind blew leaves onto the street and into the paths as people walked by and cars drove by. The orange leaves brought warmth into the town’s landscape, a pop of color in the background of grays.

A small coffee shop stood in the middle of a block, sandwiched between two overarching buildings. As I walked in, the warmth seeped into my bones. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, dimly lighting the room. The wooden floorboards under the ornate rug creaked as I walked in. I walked to the counter to order and then sat down at a small round table in the corner. 

As I waited for my order, a boy, no older than 25, walked into the café. His brown hair was curled and windswept as if he had run through a storm. His silvery eyes darted around, scanning the room. His hands were fidgeting with a small pencil, spinning it around each finger with precision and dexterity.

He walked to the counter to order, but as he kept looking around, his eyes fell upon mine with the grace of a swan.

“I’m Théo.” He offered his pale and slender hand. I tried to shake it firmly, but it was like my hand wouldn’t close around his. I quickly pulled my hand back as it tingled. 

We continued to exchange formalities. His eyes shined a brilliant and pure white in the light. His smile was a ray of light shining through a canopy of trees. 

“What do you do for a living?” 

Slightly taken aback, I stumble on my words. “I-I c-c-compose music f-for a living.”

“Amazing!” He leaned towards the table, his glimmering eyes gazing straight into mine. “I play the violin myself. Are you working on anything right now?” 

Hearing the rich harmony I had played earlier that day, I imagined a brilliant violin soaring on the sea of sounds, its majesty blowing the world around it away. 

What do I want? A voice whispered in my head. Do you really just want to disappear?

Théo, still waiting with excitement, started fiddling with his pencil again. 

I plastered on the best smile I could, but my heart turned to stone. 

“It will be my chef d’œuvre. It’s a piano piece that I started years ago that I have yet to finish, but it’s missing something.”

“Do you think you could write me a part for me?”

One month. One month, and I’ll be gone from this world. 

The dam holding back my tears started cracking. My hands trembled with weakness. Closing my eyes, I imagined myself at the piano, fingers flying across the sea of keys. And then Théo’s violin singing through the hall, a voice of comfort over the waves of raw emotion. I got ready to refuse, but a gentle voice rang through my ears.

It was a decision we made together.

“Oliver?” A voice called out from across the room. “Your drink is ready to go.”

Théo walked over with me as I picked up my drink.

“I would love to write a part for you!” I managed to respond, but my gut was an infinite void. The smile plastered on my face started to break down, but Théo didn’t seem to notice.

“Perfect!” His smile spread wide across his face, sending butterflies through my stomach. 

I smiled back, admiring how he turned his head as he smiled from his eyes. How the silver necklace that dangled in front of his chest shimmered in the lantern’s light. How his brown hair almost looked blonde as it shined. How he pulled his hands into his oversized, black sweatshirt when he chuckled. 

“How about I follow you back to your place, and we can start!” He practically raced out of the shop, leaving me to pick up his order. I quickly paid for him and chased him out the door.

As I walked into the cold, the wind no longer chilled my bones, and I felt comfortable walking around the bustling town. He put up his hood, pushing hair onto his face. It curled gently around his forehead like a small bird’s nest nestled right above his beautiful eyes. He was still grinning, the lines around his cheeks accentuating his innocent smile. He walked with a shoulder swagger down the sidewalk, watching the world go by. 

We entered my quaint home, and, making himself feel at home, Théo immediately plopped down on the couch next to the piano. He propped his legs up on the armrest and let his arms dangle off the side. He was tall enough that he sat with his back against the other armrest. He looked over and asked if I could play the piano for him.

Complying, I sat by the piano and warmed the room with its music. Swirls of warm notes flew from the piano, sparking my soul alight. The room glowed with a cozy orange aura, dancing with the embers of my life. My fingers glided effortlessly across the glimmering keyboard, birds racing across the sea of black and white. My arms, revitalized by the fiery melodies, leaped from one note to another.

However, as sudden as the strength came, it disappeared just as abruptly. The room chilled, and my fingers hardened into stone. The walls no longer glowed and were dull and bland from the cold. 

Trying to hide my condition, I pulled my arms off the piano, making an excuse to play it off. “That’s about how far I’ve gotten so far.”

Looking over, I saw him sitting up with his elbows on his thighs and his eyes staring intently into mine. “That was awesome!” He jumped off the sofa and nearly hit his head on the ceiling. “I have so many ideas!” His words raced out of his mouth, pushing and climbing each other to escape. “I’mgonnagetmyviolinberightback.” He sprinted out of my house without another word, kicking up a small cloud of dust. 

As the door closed, a voice sounded from the seat behind me.

“You’re getting his hopes up.”

I turned around to see the boy sitting in the chair again, his chin resting in his hands. “I just need to find the right time to tell him.”

“He’s gonna get attached, and that will be on you.”

“I’m barely twenty-two, but I’m already a dead man.” I paced around the room, staring at the pictures on the walls. “It’s not fair that I want to spend more time here.”

“Who cares if it’s fair? It’s the hand you were dealt. So, are you going to break his heart now or later?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You’d better figure it out quickly then.” 

The door opened, and the boy’s voice faded away. Théo rushed to close the door behind him. 

“I had a couple of ideas while you were playing.” He opened his case and tuned his instrument. “But it really depends on the mood that you’re going for.”

Curious about his style and sound profile, I replied, “Let’s hear all of them.”

He put down his violin and pulled his sweatshirt off over his head. Throwing it on the couch, I saw how his arms filled the sleeves of his shirt. He grabbed his violin again, and the curves of his arms formed winding paths down to his hands and fingers. He gently placed it in between his chin and shoulder and raised his bow arm. Gently lowering the bow onto the string, he started to play.

He pushed and pulled the strings until they sounded and resonated in the room. The brilliant melodies soared throughout the room. The nimble fingers of his left hand danced up and down the string in strange and unfamiliar patterns. The mesmerizing dance continued as the sounds grew louder and his bow moved faster. They kept growing, and the air stood still with the intensity until the melody stopped at the peak. A lonely, swelling note above the rest stood alone at the summit of a mountain. 

He played through his ideas, each one as magical as the last. He put his violin in his lap and asked, “How was that?”

“Magical,” I responded with tears in my eyes. 

Walking over and gesturing towards the piano, he put his violin on his shoulder again and got ready to play. 

With slight apprehension, I dragged my legs to the bench and sat before the keys. The keys were cold against my touch as I lightly grazed their glistening surface. I took a deep breath and started to play, letting my body take over. After a couple of bars, Théo’s violin joined a lonely boat on the waves of sounds. The ebb and flow of the piano pulled the violin’s sound and climbed the violin’s hull, pushing and pulling the sound in and out of hearing. 

The sounds started crashing as I lost focus. The sea turned into a maelstrom, surrounding and pulling it into its eye and under the water. Thunder boomed in the distance, lighting up the stygian sky faster than the blink of an eye. 

Weak from fatigue, I stopped the storm, pulling my fingers off the keys and clearing the sky. The sounds continued ringing in my ears despite the silence of the room around me.

“I’m sorry.”

Théo quickly placed his violin back in his case and sat down on the bench next to me. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“It’s my composition, and I should be able to play it, but-”

“We all make mistakes. It’s perfectly normal.”

“I don’t- I can’t play with you.”

He glanced over in my direction with eyes the size of the moon.

“I won’t be able to keep up with you, and you deserve a better accompanist.”

“I chose to play with you. Your music is incredible, and I want to be a part of it.”

“I’m only holding your sound back. For you to truly shine, I don’t think it can be with me.” 

He took my hands. “I will shine no matter what, but I want you to be there with me. You are enough, and I want to be playing with you.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“Let’s just try it again.” He picked up his violin again and led me into his world of music.

After weeks of diligence, we had finally finished our composition, a tapestry of our lives that we wove together. Each day added more thread until they showed a story of a lifetime. 

“We should perform this for the world. It’s incredible, and I think that people should be able to see what we have done.”

Looking at the ground, I tried hiding my tears. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice, no doubt filled with hurt, shook as he asked. “Is that not something you’d like?”

“Of course I would!” I scream back. 

He stepped back, away from the monster that stood in front of him.

“I just,” my voice, a shard of glass, shattered against the weight of my life, “won’t be here any longer.”

“What do you mean?”

My voice lowered to a mere whisper. “I only have seven days left.”

“Seven days?”

“Before I’m gone from this world.”

“Before-” his voice faded into silence.

Salty tears rolled down my cheeks and into my mouth. They only worsened the pain that these words carried. Forcing myself to look up, I craned my head to look him in the eyes. 

Théo. 

His once brilliant, silvery eyes dulled to a somber and stormy blue. They glistened in the dim lighting. The sadness in his eyes painted his face a dark shade. His hands were clenched into fists at his side. The curve of his lips gently trembled, a string vibrating to a contrite chord. A tear slid down his cheek, following the curve of his bones and his mouth. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was a raspy whisper, floating in the air. A sheet of paper blowing in the gentle breeze. 

I simply looked back down, feeling hopeless.

“What’s it like? Knowing when your time will be up, I mean.”

“It’s scary. Knowing that, after the time comes, I’ll be gone from this world. But it’s better than being ignorant. At least if I can see it coming, I can use the time I have left. I can choose for myself what my life will amount to.”

He simply nodded. 

“I’ve been taking life at such a leisurely pace. Wasting time as if I had an eternity to live. I’d sit down on the floor doing nothing for hours. Burning time like fires burns wood. My purpose was so far away from my reach, so what was the point in trying? If there wasn’t any chance, then why would I waste more time?”

“It’s not a waste!”

“How so? You have it so easy with-” My words got caught in my throat, tangling in themselves before I could speak. “With…” I paused again, looking at his glistening eyes, dark with concern. “All that time you’ve got.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him. “You just don’t understand! How could you? You don’t have a sickle looming over your head for every waking moment of every day. Anything I do now won’t mean a thing. I can’t mark the world within a week. I can’t change anything with this pathetic excuse for time. Nothing I do or have done in the past means anything.”

“It does,” he screamed back. Tears streamed down his face. His hands were balled into fists, gripping his black sweatshirt. The veins on his neck revealed themselves, running up and down, twisting and turning. “It means something to me,” he whispered. His chest rose and lowered steadily. His face turned red from frustration. “It means something to me.” He shook his head. “All this time we spent sharing pieces of each other through the short days and long nights. The memories that we made mean something. At least to me.”

“Théo,” I whispered. 

“You don’t have to change the world for your life to mean something.” He took a nimble step towards me. “You’re you. And that’s enough.”

“It’s not enough! You don’t deserve to have to live with me!” Tears poured down my flushed cheeks. “You didn’t deserve to get to know a dying man. I wish I had more time. You deserve someone who can spend the rest of their life with you.”

“I don’t need that.”

“It’s what you deserve. You don’t deserve to settle for me. I have been slowly dying in every moment that we spend together. It was obvious that you felt the need to keep asking if I was alright. I could never play good enough for what you deserve, especially not now that I’m only getting weaker and dying.”

“I didn’t ask you to be perfect for me.”

“But that’s just the thing. You don’t need to ask. I want to be perfect for you. I don’t want to get weaker. I want to keep learning. I want to keep getting better. Living and learning alongside you for better or worse.”

“You just need to be you. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be yourself, and you’ve brought so much color into my life just by being you.” He walked closer to me, putting his hand on my burning cheek. “You can make mistakes because that is what makes you-” He paused to think. “Well…you, Ollie.”

The rain outside hit the windows, leaving streaks of water behind them. The windows still had droplets of water scattered around them, bending the light from the room back at us. The sound of the rain was oddly comforting. Its constant splashing against the walls and roof filled my ears and held me stable. I gazed at the window, watching Théo’s reflection as he looked back at me through the window. The color of his eyes disappeared in the rain’s reflection. 

“Thank you, Théo.”

He simply nodded. Quickly turning away from the window and back at me, he asked, “So when do you want to perform this for the world?”

I threaded my arms through my blazer and pulled up my tie. Walking over to Théo, I saw him simply staring at his violin in his lap.

What are you doing? A voice sounded in my mind.

I looked over to a chair in the other corner. The boy was sitting completely still, waiting for me to reply. I’m just getting ready to perform.

What makes you think that you can do it? Especially with him?

I’m enough. I’m going to go out there, and that will be enough. For me. And for him.

The boy stood up and walked over with silent footsteps and with the grace of a ghost. He walked close enough to look straight up into my eyes. Is that what he wants?

“Of course!”

“What?”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I stumbled to cover it up. “It’s nothing.”

He simply looked back down at his violin, no longer interested in the world around him.

“Are you okay? If you don’t want to perform, it’s okay.”

Théo didn’t look up, completely fixated on his instrument. “Want. I haven’t thought about that in a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I want? What really matters to me? What am I going to remember when I lay on my deathbed?”

I could no longer see his eyes. “You have the rest of your life to figure that out.”

“Am I going to remember who I was? Does it make a difference?” He started shaking. “What am I even doing here? I don’t even know who I am, yet I’m here with a man I met a month ago about to perform his life’s work. I’ve spent my life chasing other people’s dreams and carrying them to their goals, but never for myself.”

“You don’t need to have everything figured-”

“What is the purpose of my life? I don’t want to die without knowing why I was put on this Earth.”

“You’ll find it when the time is right.”

“You don’t know that. I’ve been helping other people achieve their goals, and I don’t even know where to start to find mine.” His voice was low, barely audible.

“Maybe you’ve already found it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Your purpose doesn’t have to be about yourself.” I put my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a little. “It could be realizing the dreams of those around you. Bringing smiles to their faces and making their lives better.”

Théo looked up at me, his eyes red and his irises a stormy gray. His mouth formed a half-hearted smile as he tried to stay positive. “Here, let’s forget about this. It doesn’t matter. We need to get out and play our hearts out.”

I walked out alone into the night. The stars twinkled in the abyss as I took loud steps on the cobblestone paths. I sat at the piano in the pavilion and started to play. My hands, cold from the crisp, late-autumn air, barely moved. The music started quiet, simply a soft melody drifting through the orange leaves in the night. 

Harmonies started to form. Two voices on the piano sang together. They danced around each other, little stars in the night sky. Graceful as ballet dancers, they navigated their way through the crowd, the notes blending to form the stories of my life. 

As I continued to play, my arms started to grow weak with fatigue. The dancers slowed down, becoming sluggish as the cold seeped into my body. Struggling to keep going, I commanded each finger to move, but even that wouldn’t stop them from failing. Every other note was silent, and my heart started to flip. My head spun until a soft and beautiful sound filled my ears.

I faded into the background while Théo walked out, his shoes clicking on the cobblestone to the beat of his melody. It was the sound of laying around a fireplace with him, staring at the ceiling and shooting the breeze. It was the sound of how he laughed from his chest and smiled from his eyes. It was how he pulled his hands into his black sweatshirt sleeves when he got nervous or embarrassed.

As he got closer, I felt the warmth of his life and the energy of his passion. It reignited my embers and revitalized the piano. I joined back in, holding him up above me, letting his melodies fly. No longer held back by my weakness, I took the lead, bringing Théo into my memories. I took him to the first time I met him. I showed him the coffee shop with the sounds of my soul. The warm chords resonated through the night, and my melodies showed him what I felt. 

My skin started to burn. I looked over at Théo who was drenched in his own sweat. The ground started to radiate warmth as we kept playing. He glowed an incredible orange, and his eyes -- filled with fire and passion -- blazed in the night. Radiating the weight of his life, he pulled the entire bow up and down the strings, letting loose the most broad and majestic sounds. It painted Théo next to me on the piano, singing with his violin as I laughed and played. Each bow stroke was another moment we spent together. They wove together into a beautiful tapestry of memories.

When the music finally faded away, a roar of applause came from across the street, but the cold had already seeped into my body again. 

“Théo,” I whispered, completely inaudible under the sound of the cheering. Help me.

His head swiveled instantly. He turned around, catching me in his arms and nimbly avoiding any damage to his violin. He quickly carried me inside and laid me down on the couch.

“What’s wrong?”

Unable to reply, I simply give him a weak grunt and a half-smile.

He took my hand. “My god. You’re so cold.” Scrambling to get a blanket and warm water, he nearly tripped himself. He sprinted back to throw a blanket onto me and quickly rushed to get hot water. “You’re gonna be fine! I promise!”

Feeling faint, my world dimmed. The world spun in circles above me, blurring occasionally. I shivered, even under the thick blanket over my body. Théo faded in and out of view. His eyes were so beautiful when they shined in the light. His voice lulled me to sleep as I closed my eyes, letting the darkness cover my world.

My fingers, cold in the winter air, struggled to close into a fist as I tried to readjust my sheets. Weights pulled my arms down into the bed as I strained. My breath became shallow and my chest constricted. It was as if smoke filled my lungs, drying my mouth and throat. Each breath was sharp and icy, slicing through the chilly air. 

Lying on the bed, I looked around the room that once felt like home. The stove that Théo would cook warm soups on to warm my soul felt like worlds away. The chair that I used to talk to myself on was cold with loneliness. And the piano that carried me through these last months, only a step away, was too far to reach out for. The remnants of my memories played as I turned my head. Each faded scene blended with the next. I was lying on the floor, talking to the chair. I was pacing around the kitchen on the verge of tears. I was wrapping my arms around Théo, hoping to never let him go. 

A knock came at the door.

Without a response, it opened, and Théo peeked his head in. “How’s it going, Ollie?”
I pull myself up against the headboard and shrug. “I didn’t waste my time chasing a dream.”

“Huh?” 

“I’m correcting what I told you before.” Gazing into his silvery-white eyes, I found my voice again. “Finding my purpose in this world made my life worth living.” His curly, brown hair shimmered in the sunlight, and the comfort of his slight smile brought warmth to me one last time. “Théo, most people go their whole lives without finding their purpose, so I won’t say it didn’t mean anything.”