Kiyoko [closed]

Hayato slid the white cloth along the oak bar top, feeling in comfort in the way that the dirty thing swiped away the day's dirt and dust. It had been a long night, the last few customers had not left until one in the morning. he was used to that of course, but he still wanted his quiet moment. Too lazy to go around, he placed one hand on the bar top and leaped over, almost knocking a beer tap. That could have been disastrous but he decided to not dwell on that. He felt his feet land with a thump, and slinging the cloth over his shoulder, he headed over to the bar doors, pulling a key out of his pocket as he walked. With the benefit of a few years of the same routine, he locked the doors without even stopping. Pulling down the shades, he headed back to the bar.

Yeah, he owned the bar, so he could close whenever he felt like it. Today it was one in the morning, the next day maybe four in the morning. He really had no schedule, or a life. Everyone he had ever cared for was dead. Tossing the cloth into the sink, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and slid it down the counter towards the old piano sitting in the corner. As he walked towards it, more routine, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out and lit one. Taking the alcohol in hand, he sat down on the piano bench and flexed his fingers. There was something about playing the piano that totally relaxed him.

A high school teacher had forced him into it, and he had never stopped. He had never been good at showing his emotion, but he could pour his heart into the keys and suddenly he was an artist and not some stupid street kid. He had gotten over how stupid he felt, about it too long before he knew he had gotten over it. For a while, nothing had really mattered. It still didn't really, nothing did anymore. Before he could delve deeper into those thoughts, he placed his hands on the keys and began to play. It was a piece, he couldn't remember who wrote it, but the piece he had enjoyed playing the most, and he usually played it when he was feeling melancholy, which happened to be a lot.

Chopin | Nocturne in C minor

his fingers fluttered along the keys, resting softly sometimes, and moving quickly onwards. it wasn't a difficult piece to play, and he found his thoughts wandering away anyway. Places where he did not want to go brought him deeper and deeper into his sadness until he stopped abruptly to take a long drink from his glass. The song stopped with a clatter, he hated that when he did that. it left the song unfinished and he couldn't just pick up again. It was impossible to take something that had been broken cleanly in half and try to fix it. Hayato knew that far too well. He turned his head to look at the bar's door and sighed. he thought that he had heard something, or seen someone out of the corner of his eye. He had been thinking about that for five years now.

He turned around on the piano's stool, taking a long drag from his cigarette and leaning his head back to blow out the smoke. He suddenly felt sheepish as if his older sister was standing in front of him, telling him that he was killing himself with the smoke. he flinch at the remembrance, and stubbed the thing out, no longer feeling the need for a smoke.