AN: This idea had been in my head since the moment I finished P3P years ago. I just never really did anything with it until today. I recently felt incredibly emotional and that gave me the motivation to finally write down this one-shot. I love reading aftermath stories of P3P. One thing that was difficult about this piece was deciding between Shinjiro and Akihiko. I really adore both of them. In the end I chose Shinji cuz he actually dies in canon and my poor heart can't take that, so in a way, this is revenge for what I have to suffer through when I play M!protag. Goddamnit Shinji, why couldn't you just live!
Anyway, this piece in basically a song fic, my first (and maybe last) ever. I really encourage all who read to go and listen to John Mayer's "Dreaming with a Broken Heart" while reading this fic. It's a really beautiful song, and one that I hope I incorporated well into the fic. Review to let me know what you thought of it.
Happy reading.
*Song lyrics in italics.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The "waking up" is the hardest part
Shinjiro lifted his left eye lid sleepily. A sliver of light had creeped its way through the navy blue curtains that hung heavily from his bedroom window.
Normally he would be slightly bothered at the beaming light but his usual annoyance was overshadowed by the fact that he had had a wonderful dream.
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for a moment you can hardly breathe
A smile broke through and formed on his lips. The dream, which was now a bit difficult to remember, filled him with a gentle warmth, enough so that he rolled to his side to plant his legs on the floor and push himself up from the tangle of sheets.
His dream had such a calming effect on him that he turned back to the mattress, his hand unconsciously reaching for someone that wasn't there.
At the realization of what he had just done, Shinjiro recoiled, as if he had been burned. He felt like he had just been punched in the gut, a rush of air leaving his lungs feeling constricted as his heart ached in despair.
Wondering, "Was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?"
No she's not… 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...
He could almost see her. Lying on the other side of the bed, her light brown locks spread around her head like a chocolate halo. Her rose colored eyes, hidden behind sleep and thick lashes. Her small pink lips, slightly parted, letting out puffs of air as she continued her peaceful rest.
Shinjiro turned away from the sight his mind was forming. It wasn't enough as he raised his head only to see her small form brushing her hair in front of the small mirror that hung from the wall. She paused for a moment, placing the brush down with one hand while the other held her hair up. She skillfully wound a band around her hair then proceeded to clip the stray baby hairs near her ears. Once she seemed satisfied she turned around to Shinjiro, her eyes softening at the sight of him.
Once again, he turned away from the ghost of his memories.
She wasn't here. Not anymore.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The "giving up" is the hardest part
He remembered the day they buried her. He stood at the back, away from the eyes that looked to him with pity.
She's not gone, he told himself that day, and many months after.
How could he think otherwise? She was strong like Aki, calculating like Mitsuru, stubborn like Iori, compassionate like Fuuka, loyal like Koromaru, brave like Yukari, childish like Ken, and sometimes even reckless like himself. She was all of them and at the same time nothing like them. She was their leader, their friend, his strength.
She had fought countless of enemies and she had come out victorious every single time.
How could he let go of her? How could he ever forget?
She takes you in with her crying eyes
Then all at once, you have to say goodbye
The moment he had remembered her, he had been on that damn hospital bed. He had awakened on the first of February, knowing that he was forgetting something.
Aki and Mitsuru had visited him there and once they had left, she had come in after them. Even though he couldn't remember her, she continued to visit him.
And that day, when all his memories came rushing back, he couldn't believe how he could ever forget her. So he ran to her. He could vaguely remember where the team had all promised to meet up. Like it had been whispered to him while he slept.
Once he was on the rooftop, the pain in his chest doubled, seeing her laying across Aigis' lap, none of the others in sight. In response to his presence, Aigis passed her onto him as she walked toward the door to the roof to give them a moment.
And he held her close. He poured his heart out to her. And she smiled at him, tears running down her face. He had thought they were from happiness.
And as quickly as he had gotten her back, he lost her the moment she closed her eyes.
Wondering, "Could you stay my love?
Will you wake up by my side?"
No she can't…'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...
As Shinjiro walked down the street, he turned to the look at the flower shop. She always loved stopping by to smell the flowers.
The day after their night together, they had gone on a date. On that day, Shinjiro allowed himself, just for that day, to think about what his future could hold. With her by his side, hand in hand, he blurted out that he would like to open up his own restaurant.
The smile on her face took his breath away. And then she responded that he should hire her as his head waitress. And they had talked back and forth about the supposed restaurant when they eventually arrived in front of the flower shop. She quickly purchased a bouquet of light pink roses. When she walked back to him she told him that those roses were her favorite and made him promise that he'd hire her when he got a restaurant, so that she could decorate it with as many light pink roses as she could.
The memory of that day brought him as much joy as it did pain. He turned away from the flower shop, the bouquet of light pink roses he just purchased safely held in his hand.
Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
He stopped by her grave. The headstone was recently washed, probably thanks to Fuuka or Yukari. And placed before it were items that had held meaning to each member of the team. A rabbit doll from Aki, the motorcycle keys from Mitsuru, a set of earphones from Fuuka, an old collar from Koromaru, old house keys from Junpei, Yukari's cellphone strap, and the silver key to Ken's old house.
Shinjiro picked and placed one rose from the bunch onto the headstone. He should have placed the watch he had given her, but he couldn't bare to part with it. And as quickly as he had arrived, he turned and left the cemetery.
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Shinjiro arrived back at his apartment. He quickly found a vase for the roses and filled it with water. He set it on the window in the kitchen. His eyes roamed the small living space and sighed. He didn't feel like doing anything else right now.
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
He plucked one of the roses from the vase.
He twirled it between his fingers as he headed back to bed.
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my, roses in my hand?
He lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, his mind plagued with thoughts of her. The rose in his hand. He rolled to his side, facing where she would have been, and placed the rose there, a foot away from his face. He closed his eyes and breathed in. He could almost make believe that she was there. The scent of the rose reminding him of her.
Would you get them if I did?
No you won't...'cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...
But the illusion broke as he opened his eyes again. Empty bedside, empty home, empty heart. She was gone and all that Shinjiro could cling onto was the memory within the roses and the leather watch he had gifted her with. She was gone. And he would never get to open up his restaurant with her.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The "waking up" is the hardest part
He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. There, within his memories, he could see her smile, hear her laugh, feel her skin, smell her scent, and taste her lips.
His resting form looked peaceful. The small smile that formed on his lips contrasted to the way he gripped the stem of the rose that lay beside him. His slow breaths, slightly hitched every now and again, as a silent tear trailed down his otherwise peaceful face.