During the drive from the forest to the graveyard, my mind became preoccupied with memories of Oliver, his family, and the aftermath of his death. It's scary to think that each time you talk to someone, it could possibly be the last – that was a thought that never occurred to me until time separated us. When that realization reached me, it was as if the whole world came crashing down.

It had been many years since Oliver committed suicide. I've always regretted not spending much time with him before that incident. I loved him as more than a friend, but I didn't want to risk telling him in case he didn't feel the same way; I didn't want my feelings to ruin our friendship. He was my only friend and the only person I ever cared about.

After high school, I distanced myself from Oliver both physically and emotionally in attempt to rid myself of my feelings for him. Sometimes we communicated via text or email, but it was mostly small talk. Even though we had exchanged words occasionally, it felt as if he wasn't there and that I was all alone. There were many times I had the urge to just go back to Oliver and tell him the intent behind my actions. But I never did. Perhaps if I had, he'd still be alive.

A few years of our infrequent exchanges had passed, but my feelings had never faded. I was promptly greeted with the horrifying news from acquaintances that Oliver had committed suicide. His brother – Yohio, as I may recall – hesitantly told me about the incident, as if he knew I'd have a mental breakdown any moment. And he was right.

The moment the news had hit me, there was an overwhelming mix of negative emotions. A coercive feeling of guilt swept through my mind and made me question my decisions. The incessant paranoia pushed me towards the idea that I was responsible for Oliver's untimely death. Grief-stricken and distressed, I broke down and cried more than I ever had in my entire life. Oliver was truly gone, and I couldn't do anything about it.

Unsurprisingly, Oliver's parents didn't invite me to his funeral. They never liked me, but even that was a cruel reason for them to forbid me from paying respect to the one I held dearest. Fortunately, Yohio took pity on me and told me the day and location where they held the funeral.

On the day of the funeral, I secretly followed them and watched the ceremony from afar. The view was suboptimal, but I was glad that I at least knew where to go. I promised Oliver that I'd eventually make a proper visit.

My stream of thoughts was broken when the car slowed down and eventually stopped moving. The engine failed, and I had to walk the rest of the way to the cemetery. I didn't mind it so much that my method of transportation was gone – I wasn't going to ever return home anyways. The remaining distance wasn't too far, as it was about a five-minute walk. I took the time capsule and walked for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, I reached the cemetery where my dearest friend was at. He had been waiting many years for this, as I have. Time capsule in hand, I stepped towards the dreary, worn-down gates.

The cemetery was dark, drab and devoid of all signs of life as one would expect. It was bitterly cold and lightly snowing, so the cemetery was completely vacant of visitors. The coldness of winter signaled to all wildlife to take shelter from the weather. Thin layers of snow covered the ground entirely since it had been snowing for quite a while.

I slowly walked around the cemetery and searched for that familiar name. Even though I knew the address to Oliver's grave, I had no idea of the exact location his resting spot. I anxiously glanced around as I moved about. It had been so long since I've seen him; I've waited for this very day. It wasn't the reunion I had wanted, but it was still a reunion nonetheless.

I slowed down my pace and eventually came across the tombstone with Oliver's name on it. Like all the other plaques, it was austere and had no embellishments. It was apparent that no one had visited the grave recently due to the harsh weather.

For moments, I stood still and gazed longingly at the grave. I knelt down and gently traced my fingers against the cold marble plaque. The sharp coldness of its surface sent shivers down my spine.

"I'm here, Oliver." I whispered to the burial as if he were there, sleeping. "It's been so long…I've missed you so much." I felt my tears threatening to surface, but I did my best to hold back from crying. It wasn't time for that just yet.

Once I composed myself, I directed my attention back to the time capsule. I travelled all the way here and endured all these years for this moment. This day had been planned many years in advance. I've waited ever so anxiously. I've so desperately wanted to join Oliver. And yet, why was I so hesitant?

"Oliver, this is it – the time capsule." I shakily held out the time capsule in front of his grave as if he were right there. My eyes started to feel watery. "I promised, you promised, we promised to open this together." I closed my eyes in attempt to stop myself from crying.

It's strange how it all felt. During all these years of loneliness, perhaps I deluded myself into believing that everything was okay. When faced with this reality once more, it was like I suddenly regained back some lost memories. And this was the harsh reality: Oliver was long gone, leaving me alone to open the time capsule. If I had let my emotions take control of me that day, then perhaps this time capsule would just be a relic forever waiting in the forest.

The cold winter air had numbed my ears. I must have sat in the snow for at least half an hour when I finally regained composure. My body temperature had quickly dropped, but I had no intention of leaving until I've finished my final task.

Snow had already piled onto the lid of the small tin box in front of me. I brushed off the snow and traced the rusted exterior of the time capsule. For a while, I hesitated on opening the box. Was I really that nervous about the contents? I didn't even remember what we had put inside the time capsule. Naturally, I should have been curious but I was afraid.

Without much effort, the lid came off easily. Inside were an old pocket watch, an envelope, and a photo album. Almost immediately, I recalled that I was the one who put in a photo album. Oliver and I had agreed to each place an item we cherished and would eventually exchange.

The photo album itself was not what was important to me; rather, it was the memories associated with the photos that were precious. During my childhood, I was interested in photography and Oliver had always loved to get his picture taken. As I looked through the old photos, I felt quite mournful over the loss of Oliver and the days long gone.

After I reminisced over the photos, I turned my attention to the old pocket watch, which looked as if it had been used for many years. It must have been Oliver's, and I vaguely remembered seeing him with it once. He never really told me much about it or why it was so important to him. It must have been very precious to him since he put it into the time capsule.

I opened the cover of the pocket watch to set the time, but to my surprise, I was greeted with a photo of my childhood self on the inner lid. My heart sunk as I felt even more guilty for not being around during Oliver's final days. There was also a mix of confusion and hopefulness. I wondered – why did Oliver keep a photo of me of all people in his locket? But all I could do was speculate at this point.

Then, I remembered there was also an envelope in the time capsule. I didn't recall ever placing it in with the photo album, which meant it could have only been from Oliver. I was anxious but also hesitant to read it. It could have possibly given me answers for the situation, but it also could have very easily broken my fragile spirit.

Slowly and hesitantly, I carefully tore open the envelope and then unfolded the letter inside. The paper had crinkled feel to it – as if it was wet prior but dried up some time ago. On first glance, the hand writing looked very familiar and was far too neat to belong to that of a young child's. Could Oliver had possibly broken the promise? I let out a sigh of nervousness before I proceeded to read it. The letter read as followed:

To Fukase:

Before you read any further, I would like to apologize for breaking our promise of not opening the time capsule sooner than 20 years. I assure you that I didn't tamper with the contents of our time capsule as I had merely added in this letter. I'm sorry, but I do not have much time left in this world. By the time you are reading this, you'll know that I'm already dead.

I apologize that I've ended my life sooner than it naturally should have. My illness had worsened over the years, but I didn't want to tell you because you would worry about it. I was supposed to stay in the hospital, but I requested to delay my admittance for a day just so I could write you this letter and end it here. I didn't want to spend my last moments in a hospital room where I could no longer see you. I knew for sure my parents wouldn't allow you to visit me.

You were always my only true friend. Even if I had many other friends around me, it always felt empty without you. So, when you distanced yourself from me, it was lonely. Perhaps you had already known about my illness and were trying to move on to forget about me. I wouldn't blame you for that.

You were the only friend I ever truly cared about. I loved you more than as a friend, but I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to ruin our friendship.

Even at the brink of death, I still have no courage to tell you that I love you. Isn't it pathetic?

The pocket watch that my childhood self had left in the capsule was meant to be given to you. It is my family's heirloom and I wanted you to have it. I wished I could be around to tell you that I love you…that I want you to be part of my family, even if my parents are against it.

I never once regretted meeting you, and I'm sorry that things must end this way. Please forgive me for not being able to keep my end of the promise.

I love you, Fukase. I truly do. I'll say it as much as I could to get my point across.

- Oliver

I felt an overwhelming feeling of guilt and sadness from reading Oliver's letter. I never knew how much he had suffered. I never knew I had hurt him by not telling him my own feelings. In those moments, the tears that continuously kept threatening to surface came pouring out.

My attempts at holding back my stream of tears were futile. It felt as if all my inhibited emotions from these nine years were suddenly released. In those moments alone, I broke down and cried more than I ever had in all my life.

The tears had blurred my vision and I made no attempt at stopping the waterworks. I just wanted to let go of all the feelings I held back. Even if someone were to come by, I wouldn't have stopped either. I didn't care that I cried an entire ocean.

In the cold, harsh weather, my tears became frozen rather quickly. I soon stopped crying but continued to sit in front of Oliver's grave to process the unfortunate revelation. Even if Oliver and I had confessed to each other, illness would have taken him away. Time waits for no one, and we were only prisoners of its inevitable encroachment. It was a cruel, twisted reality…brutal and unforgiving.

I had completed my task and kept my promise – there was only one thing left to do. With some difficulty, I stood up and bade Oliver good-bye. "We'll meet again soon, Oliver," I softly whispered and departed from his grave.

Just beyond the cemetery was a lake that Oliver and I had visited a handful of times. I once nearly died there from falling asleep in the snow, and it was only fitting for me to end it there – the place where we met. At that time, I wandered away from my parents and got lost. I was exhausted from trying to find my way back and passed out in the snow. Oliver found me at the right time, and with his brother's help, brought me into a cabin to have me warm up. And that was the beginning of everything for me.

The rate of snowfall gradually increased, and thus I had more trouble moving about. The snowstorm would be here soon, so I attempted to quicken my pace. With a great deal of struggle, I made my way towards the lake with a limp – the bitter weather had numbed one of my legs.

The nostalgic sight of the lake brought back some bittersweet memories. Everything looked the same as it did when I first met Oliver, as if time here had stopped. Perhaps in a cruel way, I was meant to meet him here a second time.

My hands started to feel the effects of the harsh weather, which made me fumble a bit as I loaded the gun with ammunition. By accident, I had pulled the trigger too soon and the bullet was lodged into my thigh. I dropped the gun and winced from the sudden, sharp pain. With a quick glance, I saw that the wound wasn't bleeding.

I laid down on the snow on my back; the gun wasn't needed anymore. I knew my fate was already sealed and let death take me slowly. Just like that time, I was there near the lake at the mercy of the winter weather. The shrill voice of Oliver continuously rang in my ears as I reminisced and closed my eyes for the last time.

At last, I was liberated.

In memory of a childhood friend, 1993-2011