Room 10 was the only room in the hospital that could be liked by nurses and even poor patients.

Not because they knew the person in that room, but because of what came out of it.

Music.

Anyone would think that any sound that broke the tense and gloomy silence inside a hospital would be forbidden, and it was, except for room 10.

The patients and nurses passing by were unfazed by the music. Some people would even stop in front of a few seconds while closing their eyes.

Nurses came over to take a breather while patients dreamed of their best days.

Still, none of those who approached room 10 asked them to stop the music.

Why would they do it?

On the intensive care floor, it was normal to hear screams, cries and doctors running at the top of their lungs, so listening to music, as melancholic as it sounded, was a fresh air that calmed everyone who listened to it.

It was at one point, that a nurse, entered the room.

The nurse opened the door very slowly trying to keep the person playing the guitar softly from stopping.

Inside the room, there was a bedridden man about 27 years old. The words ugly or attractive were not part of his description. The words hurt were the first to come to the front. The man was thin and pale.

The man gently tore the guitar and skillfully plucked the strings with his eyes closed.

The nurse's piercing eyes noticed that the boy was using enough force to press the strings.

Not that she was surprised by it. She had been working at the hospital for the past 9 years. If there was one particular patient I knew, it was the one in room 10.

He didn't even need to enter the room to know how he felt. The music he played was all the proof he needed. That same music was what made her be here. Like this time the sound sounded different. It was slow and gloomy.

Hearing the patient slowing down the rhythm of his guitar, he gently asked.

"Are you okay?"

The music stopped.

Hearing a voice stopping his music made him a little angry.

In front of him was a brunette nurse. I didn't know how to label her, something that offended the nurse many times. But to be fair, he didn't see the point of making more friends, when he was about to die.

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*Sigh*

"I'm not dying anymore, wasn't I going to die a week ago?" he asked tiredly.

"You've been saying that every week, you need to look to the future with hope!" the nurse said as she looked down on him.

Hearing that made him laugh a little, he doubted that even the nurse would believe her own words.

Before they could continue to speak, the door of the room opened quickly, followed by a cheerful voice.

"Your best and only friend is here," said one man as he entered the room.

"Tyler what do you do here?" he asked curiously.

"What do you think I do here? Clearly, I come to visit you," he replied naturally.

"And what's that depressing song you were playing, rejoice a little, you're going to paradise," he said, heading to a chair.

Tyler was in front of him and I look him straight in the eye.

He noticed that for a second his gaze turned to his trembling hands, and he saw a trace of sadness, but he quickly hid it and continued with his façade. It's not that he blames him, it's his way of dealing with this situation in front of him.

Normally they would fight, a way to make them both feel better.

But today I didn't have the strength.

"Please don't. Today I have good news," Tyler said quickly when he saw that he sighed.

Hearing this, he shuddered a little. Hearing the silence, Tyler began to look at him with a shit full of sadness, finally breaking his façade.

"When?" he said as his voice trembled.

"Today? Tomorrow? I can feel it... I'm dying," I said softly.

They look at each other silently for a while. As always, it was the one who broke it as he gently got up from the chair.

"Is that what you're playing? The sound of death?" he said slightly.

Hearing this, he laughs. I didn't have an answer for that. It had been a few months since I was still dreaming of absolute darkness.

He didn't care about the darkness. No, what was scary was the silence in that darkness.

He couldn't remember once in his life that he didn't hear anything. Other patients were like him, prisoner of their bodies, can love silence. But not someone like him.

That darkness and the silence in it was almost a nightmare.

Ever since I dreamed of it, I try to hear at least one sound. Perhaps, after hearing something, he could finally give something to the darkness.

Just like he did since he was a child.

Listening to sounds and then comparing it to other sounds was a game I had started when I was 7 years old. At the time I didn't know what the musical notes were. So, the only thing I could do was group objects that emitted the same 'sound'. It wasn't until he was 10 years old that he understood that these groups were notes.

After that, he asked for a piano. His family had no money for that, but seeing him insistent they ended up buying him an acoustic guitar. Since then, like a scholar with his book, he went everywhere with his instrument.

But that darkness was different, and he didn't like it.

It was after a week that he had a little idea.

'What if I compose a song that sounds like darkness?'

A month has passed since then. He progressed every day and felt that his song looked more and more like that darkness. The problem was that the closer he got, the weaker he felt both physically and mentally.

It was today that he decided to finish the song, but for some reason, he also knew that today was going to be the last day of his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by the warm and harsh touch of his best friend's hands.

"Are you really going to die today?" he said softly

He looked at him again, his frowning eyebrows, and his lips were also slightly pursed in a strange and ugly way. The kind of ugliness you need to have, so you don't cry.

Hearing the silence, he nodded in response.

The moment he nodded; he was waiting for his good news. But there is no room for it. The warm touch of his hand leaves him.

Tyler had walked quickly out of the room, leaving him alone again with the nurse.

Seeing the empty chair, he closed his eyes and began to play again.

Slowly and pleasantly, he drowned in his melody.