Closed Door


Love Song
I love the way you look
When the sun falls across your face
How your head tilts back
And you look up at the sky.
I love the way you move
Seated behind those drums
As if your very heart depends
On keeping the beats alive.
I love the way your hair falls
Cascading over your eyes
Hiding your gaze from view
Obscuring yourself from the world.
I want to take you in my arms
To hold you close
To love and to cherish you forever
Until the end of time.
If only I could have said so sooner
Maybe you could have been mine.
I hate the thought that you suffered
Your tears always made me cry
Your anger made me cower
And your happiness made my heart soar.
I treasured the times I could make you smile
The times when you would laugh
Most of all,
I adored the times with you.
I know it's too late now
Your days have come to end
The final sun has set on your sweet face.
Yet if I had one more second,
There are three words I would gladly say.
'I love you.'

The piece of paper was laid gently to rest in the blonde drummer's folded hands against his chest, the small, folded scrap on which so many thoughts and feelings had been written among tears.

The drummer had suffered until the finish, harboring a love that had never faded or been realized until that fateful night when he'd finally had the guts to speak the words out loud to a closed, hotel room door after a painful fight, then put his life to end with a bottle of pain medicine.

He was cold when the guitarist had found him the next morning, dead and gone, too late for him to say to him the words he wanted to say, the words he had rushed into the room in the first place to say.

So there the guitarist was, watching the lid of the casket containing his love being lowered to encase the beautiful creature in darkness and satin, locked tightly by the silver clasps. Not a word had been spoken since the drummer had been found; his tears had all dried up when he'd written the last words to his beloved, words that had come too late.

Stepping aside, he watched as the casket was moved to roll down the aisle of the church, and someone put an arm around his shoulders, yet he couldn't begin to recognize who it was, or even care. Words were whispered--he supposed they were comforting--but he couldn't hear them. All he could hear were the last words Shinya had ever spoken.

"I love you, Andou Daisuke."

Whispered from behind a closed door.