It's not like you miss him all the time, because you don't.
That would be silly, and girly – and he never liked you when you were girly anyway.
So you just don't. You decide then and there, you won't cry over him, and you won't pretend that he meant anything to you more than just being 'some guy I once knew'. You honor him by making sure you forget.
And you do that really, really well.
You're looking out into the ocean (well, you're not but he is) and you're there with her (and her) and him – they all go so well together, you notice, and they look like they are supposed to. It's as if there is nothing there to stop them from doing whatever they want (whether that be saving worlds or taking them over or sitting on islands for years at a time) and they are just fine. Her (and her) and him and him (and you) are just fine.
And you think, isn't it sad that this wasn't what he was fighting for? That what he was fighting for was just you, and you were the one fighting against him? I hope you realize you're the one who killed him, really. A tear rolls down his cheek (it is also sad that you don't get your own cheeks anymore, you ponder, and also that you can't feel this sadness that should be coming with crying) and they both ask what's wrong.
He doesn't know (it's not like he should, right?) but you certainly do, kind of, in a shallow, nonchalant way.
And now it's horrible (really, horrible) but he's sobbing for reasons unbeknownst to him and his associates, and shes got an her hand interlaced with his and is saying soothing words while he's moving to wrap his arms around him, he's holding on for dear life to the both of them, pressing his face into his shoulder.
And you're just thinking about how good the ice cream on top of the clock tower was.
yes well.
reviews are almost as good as that ice cream.
it's true!