Work Text:
Spring turns to autumn, winter passes into spring.
Chopin stood blankly by the window, watching clusters of pink-white cherry blossoms bloom along the street. A soft breeze stirred, sending star-like petals dancing across the sky before they drifted down onto the stone-paved road, turning to dust under the rain’s moisture or the footsteps of passersby.
Spring, the season of rebirth. On the street below, people wandered in small groups, chattering and laughing, discussing recent events as they hopped along the road he once walked with his dearest friend.
Without noticing when, he had begun to gaze out from his small apartment in Wandom Square, staring at the street before him and the distant scenery, as if he could never see enough of the familiar view he had known since first arriving in Paris.
Or perhaps he was waiting for something.
Chopin still remembered the golden-haired youth who had pried open his heart without permission, leaving bits and pieces of memories in every corner of Paris with him. And the scene where that youth quietly left, leaving chaos in his small world.
When Liszt left, it was as if he had taken half of Chopin’s soul, tearing a part of him out cruelly.
In his dreams, there was a blank white screen, and a starry sky woven with dreamlike light spread across it. Then came the familiar street, and stone bridges forming beneath his feet. Chopin felt a warm touch brushing through his hair. Looking up, he saw a face so familiar yet alien—the face he had chased countless times in his dreams, yet never could see clearly.
Liszt still smiled brightly at him.
“Frédérich, you’ve grown so thin…”
“Take good care of yourself.”
“Franz…”
Chopin threw his arms tightly around the figure of his beloved, burying his head in his chest and sobbing softly.
“Didn’t we promise we’d always be together?”
“But we’re already apart…”
The youth kept smiling, his body turning little by little into glowing firefly-like specks, drifting apart and flying toward the distant starry sky.
“Live happily from now on, okay~”
Chopin looked up at Liszt’s shining smile, forcing a smile through his tears.
“Okay.”
After that, Liszt disappeared from his life. Their contact was reduced to occasional meetings at salons, and as time passed, they grew further apart.
Only the occasional letters from Liszt remained.
Over the years, Liszt had matured greatly. No longer just the pianist who rearranged his works, he triumphed on tour after tour. Everything seemed to develop as he had hoped, becoming the focus of all Europe, ever more brilliant…
Chopin had wondered what exactly he had felt for Liszt back then.
Friend, soulmate, or lover?
Perhaps love is just love itself. The so-called familial love, friendship, and romantic love are just labels people force onto it.
Love is just love.
Sadly, he had not had the courage to speak up then, nor the courage to keep the man by his side. They drifted apart, separated by misunderstandings.
That man was light… no one can hold onto light.
That man was spring… spring cannot stay forever in one person’s courtyard.
Yet he knew these were just excuses for his own cowardice.
What if he had spoken up then, boldly confessing his feelings? What if they hadn’t had that terrible fight, and had walked side by side instead? What if he had been just a little braver? Would the ending have been different?
Would he come back to this place where they first met, to walk the final moments with him?
No matter what identity.
No.
Perhaps he had always wanted to be his lover.
What a pity.
The kindest thing is time, and the cruelest thing is also time.
Even if he had spoken up, the ending would not have changed, would it?
He still stood blankly by the window, gazing in the direction Liszt had come from.
Day after day, year after year.
The wind stirred again, lifting a few falling blossoms that brushed Chopin’s cheek. A few crystal tears drifted down with the petals in the sunlight. He could not help but cough a few times, covering his mouth with a handkerchief. The sight that met his eyes was a shocking scarlet.
Behind him, Ludwika’s voice called out.
“Frédéric, what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
Can the time spent with him ever come back?
No, it can’t.