One day, a brown-eyed boy stood in front of a white door. For what seemed like forever, he stood unmoving, staring at the peeling paint.
If someone were to walk down the hallway, they would see a flushed boy with a hat that sat just a bit too lopsided on his curls, battered trunks clutched in both hands.
What they would not see was a boy afraid of shutting one door and opening another. A boy that moved out across town for fear that he would never grow up if he didn’t.
But the boy knew that life wouldn’t wait for him. So he turned the handle, and stepped inside.
The room was small and bare. The sink dripped, and the door squeaked at the hinges. Trains rattled the window panes and shook the walls, but he didn’t mind. He just set down his things and looked around. Through the window, he could see the skyline reclining before him. And even though it was small and derelict and loud, he loved it as if he had loved it his whole life.
So he unpacked his bags. He hung photos of people he hadn’t been in a very long time. He made his bed. He turned off the lights.
As the boy lay in the dark, he began to hear a noise. A sad, lilting refrain; muffled, but still clear. He wanted to find the source of such a sound, for it was the prettiest thing he had ever heard. But he was so tired, and couldn’t make himself leave the warmth of his bed. Instead, he drifted off, strangely at peace.
The next morning, he woke to the sound of a soft melody drifting through the wall. Shedding the covers, he padded over to the far wall and pressed his ear up against it.
The music was unlike anything he had ever heard before. Indescribable. He listened, struck dumb, just pressed up against the wall. “Wow,” he murmured, finally. The notes slowly ceased, until there wasn’t a sound to be heard. Then, softly, through the wall, came a voice. A boy’s voice, thin and sweet, like an echo. “I know.”
Every day, the other boy would play, and he would listen. Sometimes, the tune was sweet. Other times, it cried out like a lost child. And through it, he and the boy had conversations in a language so foreign it was almost like magic.
One day, his mother called from across town. Like only a mother does, she asked, “How are you? Have you met any new people?”
And the boy replied, “I have met this wonderful boy. He is beautiful and kind, and he plays the prettiest music I have ever heard in my life.”
His mother, of course, was delighted. “Pray tell, child. What does he look like?”
And though his mother could not see it, the boy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, I do not know.”
His mother was perplexed. “How can you not know?”
The boy responded simply. “I do not need to know. I know him, and that is all I wish for.”
It went like this for so long, so many days that the boy lost count. Play, listen. “Wow.” “I know.” And with every day that passed a weight was lifted on his chest.
One day, he left his room to go out, only to find the door next to his hanging open. He stopped and stared.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. And the boy was beautiful; black curls and blue eyes that watched sharply. Soft as his music, melancholy as when it ended.
The boy’s fingers twitched, like he was unsure of who he was without ivory in his grasp.
But all he could think was I know you, I know you, I know you.
For a long time, they just stood there, under the flickering hallway light. They stood in silence. What else could you do if you saw someone you knew so deeply for the first time? But in his heart, the brown-eyed boy knew that good things didn’t last.
They didn’t have to say anything. The door closed, and the boy’s footsteps could be heard softly through the wall.
Although they saw glimpses of each other, they never truly came face to face again. They never learned one another’s names.
One day, the piano stopped. With it came day after day after day of silence. Finally, the brown-eyed boy left his room and walked over to the other boy’s door. And though he stared the peeling paint head on, all he could see was the other boy’s face.
When he knocked, he knocked with care, like force would splinter the wood and break down the door. Nothing. He knocked louder, but no one answered.
Though he knocked on the door, day after day, no one answered. Life felt strangely silent. All the things that he had once adored about his room now seemed dull. The paint slowly chipped away. The room was too empty. The passing trains felt too loud. Each day, the boy would wake praying to hear the lilt of the piano and the boy who played it. And each day, he was met with silence and a dripping sink.
Eventually, the boy stopped knocking. Summer came and went, and with it a chill that could be felt through the building. The room next door went up for sale.
Years later, the boy moved out of the apartment. He met someone, and found a house in the suburbs to raise little children. He grew old and gray, sat in a rocking chair with nothing better to do. He waited there, for the sound of the piano to reach his ears again. And even as he sat there, dying as all things do, he waited for the piano boy to come back to him. He waited, hopeful and sanguine, every day.
And each day, he was met with silence and a dripping sink.
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,738 Reviews
Heyy I'm here to review your work today!!
To start things off, I'm in love with the prose. No matter how sad or melancholic the ending may be, the imagined lilt and cadence of every uttered word is a cherishable warmth.
As much as it makes sense that the boy and the man are two different people meeting at a point in their lives and then going off again, like intersecting lines, I really think the two could be interpreted as parts of the same person.
After bravely deciding to venture out, the protagonist creates his first home, but can't help feeling homesickness for what once was. "As the boy lay in the dark, he began to hear a noise. A sad, lilting refrain; muffled, but still clear. He wanted to find the source of such a sound, for it was the prettiest thing he had ever heard." Coincidentally, the players music is appropriately sad (like the feeling of homesickness), but still the prettiest thing the protagonist has ever heard (because it stood for first freedom, the taste of individuality and independence).
Also, the exchanged "Wow"s and "I know"s is kind of like two parts of the same person discovering each other and acknowledging the complexities and wonders of their own self (the ability to play such soul-touching music). “I have met this wonderful boy. He is beautiful and kind, and he plays the prettiest music I have ever heard in my life.” The joy of self-discovery, of innate belonging. “I do not need to know. I know him, and that is all I wish for.” The ironical selflessness of being able to give up knowledge of the self to preserve the happiness of the self. Contentment.
AAAnnnd discovery happens "“You’re beautiful,” he whispered."The boy’s fingers twitched, like he was unsure of who he was without ivory in his grasp."
" But in his heart, the brown-eyed boy knew that good things didn’t last."
Some things are never meant to happen, some distances should be kept.
I think their meeting was an irreversible eventuality. Another part of self discovery is that once you find out some things, you have to let go of some parts to grow too. The boy spent his childhood running away from home because he wanted to grow unrepentantly, but he eventually settles down and has lovely children. The journey of life demands some sacrifices, and here it was the haunting but beautiful melody of the beautiful boy in exchange for stability, and emotional maturity to learn to grow roots.
All in all, I loved this piece! <3333
Thanks so much! I'm really glad you liked ittttt. Ur analysis is perfect oml. Sry for late response btw lol.
I really enjoyed reading this story. It feels so raw, so real. Towards the end, when the boy (or I suppose man, since he’s old, grey and on his death bed) gives up on ever hearing the music again, it felt so heartbreaking. The simplicity of their connection, of never having had any proper conversations or meets, goes to show that you don’t need to have deep, hours long conversations with someone or have known them for yours to have a connection or friendship with them. This was a wonderful read!
Keep up the great work!
This line. I loved it. I seriously found this so relatable because sometimes it can feel like we're completely different people from one picture to another based on where we are in life so I loved that.
The simplicity in these conversations truly shows that the sound of music wasn't as significant to the boy as the actual friend was. Just that simple sound of music hits so much deeper than what meets the eye. Well done.
Other quotes that I loved:
This part made me so sad, like he'd given up.
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I appreciated this story so much, it really hits deep with that last line and the title is very fitting. It goes to show that sometimes all one needs is one good thing in life. If that is taken away, the desperation can make someone relentless to get that thing back.
Enjoyable read and I loved every bit of it.
Best regards!
-Jane Amelia
Awww tysmmmm. Ur reviews r always so sweet thoughtful %u263A%uFE0F
Hello there, human! I'm reviewing using the YWS S'more Method today!
Shalt we commence with the gory S’more?
Top Graham Cracker - A boy moves into a new town and knows no one but a strange boy behind the walls, playing the piano and healing with his melody. But when the piano boy disappears, he does not come back. And the boy’s heart is broken.
Slightly Burnt Marshmallow - I have no recommendations to make as of right now, but if you would like to edit it, then you may.
Chocolate Bar - I love the way you described the bond between the boy and the piano boy. It is a type of love that does not need many words and I think that time between them was so precious that when it was broken, it could not be brought back. Or maybe they could have been more if the boy just decided to talk to the piano boy. There is not a clear answer and maybe there doesn’t need to be.
Closing Graham Cracker - Overall, a mournful short story! I have enjoyed reading this and if you would like to make other short stories, then I will read it. Maybe the boy will find him one day, maybe not. But…
I wish you an amazing day/night! ^v^
Awwwwwwww this is so cute but why did it have to end like that???? Ngl there is great beauty even in that melancholic ending. I am js very fed up with reading sad endings because I feel like choking myself but this wasn't that sad and it is what makes it my fav part. The brown eyed boy's longing to hear the other boy's music creates this sense of liking even as he is at the end of his life.
And hey in my perspective I think he might mostly enjoy reminiscing those moments, yet the hollowness remains, which creates a contrast ( I think) - the same sadness that the brown eyed boy felt.
Starting from the beginning, you really establish your main character well and I like how listening to the music really makes a difference in the brown eyed boy's life- giving him this joy. As a reader sometimes even when described in the elaborate ways, the emotion isn't there which pisses me off. Thankfully this piece really resonates not directly but in its own way such as the brown eyed boy only seeing the other boy a few times and mostly in short glimpses. This minimal face to face interaction yet the intense feelings is intriguing. And tbh that is what makes your piece unique.
Moreover it shows that a conversation can take place in the weirdest ways and in my opinion music is a great alternative. Furthermore your piece shows us the difference between merely talking to someone and knowing them, while full understand them.
Overall great work!!!
Also I might have accidentally clicked the submit button 2 sentences in so.....my bad
Tysmm ur so sweettt. For this piece, I really wanted to explore how people can know eachother so well without ever having met (well I mean they did meet but yk). And lolll I%u2019m so tired of reading sad endings too