DISCLAIMER: La Corda D'Oro belongs to Yuki Kure and to all its legitimate owners.

©CHEERFULHOSHI 2015. All rights reserved.

For sera-chan011 (sorry for the delay!)

AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

Dark, overcast skies spread its blanket over a throng of black dotting the green grass. As a select group of mourners played a final epitaph, a pale blunette stood in the distance, silently observing the familiar faces he could pick out that gathered around grave: the apple-green haired trumpeter, the once timid clarinetist, the intelligent cellist, the stoic flutist and his wife, the bespectacled violinist, and of course, the pianist who was holding a weeping gray-haired woman to his side. Len's fingers clenched into fists.

He was about to turn his back, holding back tears and saving what was left of his crumbling heart when a very nearby sobbing interrupted him.

"So good," it said.

Len stopped on his tracks, turned to the sudden intruder who appeared from nowhere and was startled when he was met with an uncanny likeness of the cellist playing just now. He had blonde curls just like Shimizu, but was a little shorter and had a much fairer complexion. He was so white you could almost see the veins underneath his skin. He was glowing. Or at least, it seemed like he was. He wore a blue ruffled long sleeves and white pants, with a small brown bag strapped across his chest. He stood out and was rather bright for the gloomy occasion.

"Excuse me?" Len said as he remembered the unlikely comment.

The stranger looked at Len with his stunning big purple eyes that shone with tears. He was beaming with a proud smile when he said, "Music. Over there."

Len cast his eyes back to the quintet—his former schoolmates—and listened against his will. However it seemed absurd that someone would comment on such a performance when it was being offered to the dead. But the stranger was right. The music was good, as it should be, because it was being played for someone who left an important mark. Unsurprisingly, Len's chest tightened as he allowed the memories to flood his mind especially those of a certain red-haired and how they confessed their feelings. How they broke up. How he left. How they still love each other. How it was too late. How she got sick—and died, without him beside her.

"Too bad she's no longer here to enjoy the music."

Len's brows scrunched in annoyance at such an insensitive statement. How could someone say those things at a time like this? How could this stranger afford to leave such a comment? It was ironic how someone called 'ice prince' like him would know what the word even meant but he was conflicted. Maybe, part of the reason he was irked is because once again the intruder was right. She was gone.

Slowly realizing a thought at the back of his mind, Len's eyes widened at the stranger's familiar words, words that only Kahoko Hino would possibly comfort him with. "She got those words from me, you know. I think. Six years ago," said the boy with a grin, wiping the tears that ran messily down his cheeks.

Six years ago?

"But I bet she would've loved to listen to the clarinet's improved performance! And the cellist…" he thought for a moment, "he was more skillful then but I guess he's still okay."

But we were in high school then.

"The flute and violin are wonderful! Don't you think so? She would've loved it."

A sudden cold chill swept his skin that left a trail of his hair standing as if he was in the presence of a ghost, or an otherworldly creature; the conversation ringing familiarity and strangeness. Cold sweat ran down his skin, but Len kept his gaze trained at the crowd, not letting his anxiety show. The music was finally coming to end until there was nothing except bawling and weeping. The priest said a prayer in closure and not long after, the people in left one by one until only at least five people were left. Finally, realization had dawned on him. Everything made sense now. The stranger was not really a stranger at all.

A crunching of dried leaves made Len turn to the boy beside him who was now leaving. It didn't surprise him this time when he turned to him for one last time. His purple eyes stunning, gleaming, and cheeks stained with tears. His earnest parting words broke the remaining pieces of Len's heart before he vanished into thin air.

"She knew you loved her, Len Tsukimori."

And then, for the rarest time, Len let the tears flood his face. Rain started to pour, and thunder rolled in the clouds- a signal of the incoming storm. But the storm in his heart will not soon be gone.

Prompt: 001 This is What Was Left When He was Gone

A/N: Somehow it feels a little lacking but I so wanted to post this already and has been sitting in my laptop for days. To the reader, your review is highly appreciated!