"There are none so distant that fate cannot bring them together"
The picture stared back at him, her smile frozen in time, her eyes closed in that way they did when she was truly happy, unaware of the effect she had on those around her. The edges of the paper were beginning to curl from age and a sharp crease cut through the middle, but he could never bring himself to put it away for safekeeping, instead choosing to keep it in his wallet. He held it carefully, smoothing the crease from bottom to top, a ritual he'd developed over the past few years in an attempt to keep the picture from tearing.
Her arm was linked through his, and a faint blush was painted across his cheeks, his eyes averted, his lips set firmly in a near-grimace. Taichi had taken the picture, laughing at him, trying to get him to smile, but he couldn't focus on anything but her arm touching his.
It was the middle of summer and they'd spent the day at one of the local festivals in town. He could still hear her crystal-clear laughter as they ran around, trying to see everything, the three of them holding hands. Really it was her dragging them around, both of them protesting as they ran out of breath from running, egged on by her excited shouts.
Of course, that had been years ago. Every so often he'd feel the urge to call her and see how she was doing, but he'd promised himself he wouldn't bother her. Whenever summer came around, which it had the habit of doing every year despite his hatred of the extreme heat, he would invariably remember that day. What he despised the most was the longing that filled his chest whenever he looked at that photograph, knowing that he should have stayed. He should have tried. He should have done something to let her know how he felt.
He folded the picture once more and tucked it into the small pocket inside his wallet, closing the worn leather. He slipped it into the pocket of his thin jacket and slipped his arms into the sleeves, adjusting the material over his body. The air was still warm outside, even after the sun had long set, but there was a slight breeze. The wind chimes outside the patio door sang as he closed the front door behind him, carefully hopping down the steps.
The destination wasn't far, but it was a journey he'd made plenty of times. The small bridge was about a half-mile away and he often went there to think, to reflect, to swallow regret. It overlooked a beautiful stream, one that he'd lost many hours staring into, watching leaves drift lazily by, occasionally interrupted by small ripples in the water.
He stood on the worn stones, wondering once again how long they had stood strong against time, who had placed them there, who had poured their own dreams into each one. He stared down into the water, leaning over the guard rail. His reflection stared back at him, moonlight glinting off the surface.
Nothing had changed. He hadn't become a better person. He hadn't learned anything new about himself. He hadn't gathered the courage that he knew he needed. Yet he continued staring down into the water, thinking of her.
Did she ever think of him as well?
A sudden buzzing interrupted his thoughts and he reached into his pocket, withdrawing his cell phone. The screen indicated that he had a text message. At least, that's what he thought it meant—that little envelope on the screen meant text message, right? It wasn't as though he had any friends who sent him messages. The phone was mostly for safety purposes, and was rarely used. He flipped it open and pressed a couple buttons to get to the inbox, opening the message.
I don't know if this is still Arata's number, but if it is…well, I just wanted to see how you were doing. If this isn't his number anymore, I'm sorry for the disturbance. -Chihaya
His heart skipped a beat reading back over the message. He couldn't believe it—had she sensed him thinking about her? His hand began to tremble as he closed the phone, wrapping his fingers around the slim plastic that suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
"It's not fair."
The watery reflection stared back at him, silently judging as he tucked the phone back into his pocket, hand still clenched around it. It had been years—he shouldn't still feel the way he did.
Did she share his feelings?
Was it a sign that she had sent that message?
Should he call her?
A thousand thoughts raced through his head, bouncing uncontrollably against one another, most of the rational ones breaking into shards and disintegrating as he tossed them aside. Quickly he pulled out his hand still holding the phone and tapped out a message.
This is still my number. How are you?
He hit the send button before he could delete the words. He pressed his other hand against his chest and exhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves.
No reply came right away, like he'd expected. He waited a few minutes, staring down at the phone screen as though he was waiting for the code to disarm a nuclear device.
Maybe he'd responded too quickly.
Maybe she was just being nice, and didn't think he would actually write back.
Maybe she was messaging him on a dare.
Maybe Taichi had stolen her phone and was messing with him.
Yeah, that was probably it. How could he have been so stupid—of course it was just Taichi messing with him. He'd know how to sound like her in a text message, which wouldn't be hard anyway.
The phone finally vibrated again and he nearly dropped it flipping it open too quickly. Another message was waiting for him and he pressed the button to open it, panic washing over him.
I'm so glad! I was thinking about you. I wondered if you ever thought of me. Are things still good? :)
A giant smile spread across his face and he held the phone carefully, debating what to say.
It had to be fate.
He was so grateful he'd never stopped believing in it.