Sometimes, I can still hear his voice when I lay down.
I don't know why I did it. I don't know why I let him die, for all my selfish needs. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
Sometimes, I can still feel his arms on my body, like a castle that holds me and protects me.
I didn't protect him at all. I, in fact, was the one to hurt him. I didn't want to. I wanted him to stay with me. Selfish, selfish, selfish.
Sometimes, I can still see his face when I sleep.
All I can remember is his smile, his eyes, the way my heart skipped a beat when I looked him in they eye, the way he would hold me, shaking and crying while I told him it was going to be okay, that our friends were now in a better place, even if I didn't want to think of it myself. Yes, the good times.
Why?
I miss him.
I miss the times I could feel a rush in my blood, the times I was interested in him.
I miss my best friend.
I miss Makoto Naegi.