Spoilers for episode 29+ =P
“It feels like he’s right here with us, doesn’t it?” Dearka addressed his other two friends, sitting down on the bed. The scent of the room, the mere being there with his piano and his posters; it was Nicol. His room never to be occupied by him again.
Athrun nodded. He was probably the worse broken up over coming, Nicol had died to save him. Yzak was standing over his dresser, looking down at a framed picture of the four of them, taken while they were in the midst of the war. It was a short-lived free period for them when they tailed the Archangel in secret. Their faces in the picture were still naïve to the fact they would never be separated from one another.
Athrun was at the piano, looking at another picture his mother had placed there. Dressed in a suit and holding his sheet music, he was so happy at the piano.
There was a closed folder where one would usually place sheet music to play a piece. Athrun reached out and opened it up. It looked like any other piece of music, until he realized it was drawn in. Little notes on the side, and the written title of “Angel’s Symphony” at the top depicted it was Nicol’s handwriting. It was only half finished.
“Guys.” Yzak and Dearka walked to the piano and looked over Athrun’s shoulder. They were overly curious, so called Romina into the room.
“I never noticed that. I haven’t really touched any of his things yet.”
“You can play the piano, right?” Athrun asked with a bit of eagerness in his voice. Romina nodded. “I gave Nicol a lot of his lessons when he had free time.”
She sat at the piano, fixing the paper onto the music stand over the ivory keys, Athrun, Dearka and Yzak standing around her. Following the music that was created by her son, she started to play. It was as if Nicol’s spirit, his emotion, everything that made him was thrown into the music when he wrote it. It portrayed the sadness of the situation they were all in, hope, which was the one thing the young boy had about his future. Every emotion, the good and the bad, were heard in the music, and felt among those privileged to listen to it. Nicol was dead, and this music piece was what he had left behind.
And when it was over, none of them spoke. They were too overwhelmed with the memory of him to.