Hello, All. I've been out for a while but now I'm back. And I brought a new tale to tell :)
Chapter One: For the boy left behind
I can't say that the way the way that the days carried on didn't sting badly. Every day was like ripping off a scab and never letting the wound properly heal. Atleast for me . . . this was the way the days felt.
Everyone tried their best to live the days normally. The way they were supposed to live.
They pretended it didn't happen.
That it still wasn't happening.
I knew it so well that this could not be normal. That this was not normal.
Our winter was as cold as ever. I wore the scarf that was knitted carefully and with love on every stitch so often that the ends were starting to tear but I couldn't toss something so precious to me away. I adored it as much as I adored anything made with her hands.
The classroom was full but there was a gap that everyone noticed. A hole in the universe. It was the seat next to mine. There was a vase with flowers that were changed every morning. It was frustrating that such a thing was there. For God's sake, she isn't even dead! The first couple of days that it was there, I would take it and smash it against the wall outside of the school. But the next day, on her desk, a vase would appear with fresh, beautiful flowers. I ignored it completely after. I had a feeling that it was her best friend, Miku-senpai, replacing the flowers each time before anyone could see.
That girl didn't even go see her in the hospital. Not once in the past year.
I stopped trying so hard with my grades, I was passing by a thread, they said. Like I care. I quit the soccer team, my heart wasn't in it, they said. Of course my heart wasn't there. It was buried in her dreams. My friends stopped talking to me as much, I was depressing to look at, they said. Why would I be happy?
Something was missing. No . . . someone was missing. That person was supposed be right here, beside me. Laughing and smiling as if they didn't have a care in the worlds. But she was gone.
And every day, for the past year, I would stop by a small flower shop and get a single stem of her favorite flower. I would walk up the hill to the hospital, check in and walk up the stairs. A few of the nurses knew my name from all the visits and gave me a small smile as I brushed passed them to the room at the end of the hall. Room 205.
The familiar room was warm and the lights were dimmed. I frowned; it was sunny out despite the cold bite of the wind. She would love some sunlight in her room. I pulled at the strings on the curtains and they lifted. Instantly, the room lit up so much brighter. I pulled out the flower from its wrapping and set it in the vase of all the flowers I had brought on previous visits. Her parents came and went every so often but they had lost hope. They never brought flowers to her room. Or even touched her.
I turned and saw her lying on the bed, unmoving; tubes were connected to her arms, giving what she needed to continue to live. But she was paler, thinner, and sadder than the girl from my past. Her hair had grown too, already spilling over her pillow.
I pulled out my usual seat and sat down. The room was quiet and uneasy but the soud of her steady heartbeat soothed my everlasting nerves. It was as if I was hearing my own heartbeat. I opened my backpack and pulled out an old, worn book, it was her favorite and it was the copy I had never given her. I found the bookmark where I had stopped reading to her yesterday and reached for her small, fragile hand.
I felt myself smile, it was rusty and I could imagine the sound of worn gears inching to life, "Hello, Rin. It's me . . . Len. I missed you."
Even with her so close to me, I still missed her.
I miss the way laughed at my jokes before I got to the punch line. I miss the way she pushed her bangs behind her ear. I miss the way she clicked her tongue when I came to class late. I miss the way she ranted on why vegetables were necessary. I miss the way her eyes lit up before she even smiled. I miss the color of her eyes when they were open.