Tanabata, the celebration of Orihime and Hikoboshi, two deities separated by dozens of stars, connected by sweet aches of longing. Shouya looked up at the starry sky and recalled the time he had learnt these things in elementary school, a time when life was happier. When he was happier.
He, too, was separated, he mused as he glanced at his counterpart walking alongside him. Separated by several longitudinal waves of sound and years of his traumatic childhood, now blended into a dull pain that still stabbed him if he allowed himself to wallow in self deprecation and depression.
Shouko turned, looking at him searchingly. He forgot she could feel the vibration of his footsteps, knew when he sped up or slowed down, walked and halted. He smiled reassuringly at her, trying once more to curb the sickening feeling of guilt that continually sloshed around his gut and threatened to spill out of him. That feeling that cruelly reminded him he could never be truly happy.
His hands signed, "I'm okay! Don't worry."
His face betrayed him.
He turned away, hoping she hadn't noticed the flurry of emotions on his face.
It was a simple need - she wanted her makeup taken off, and he could help her do it. She gestured for him to take a seat, and began pulling out wet wipes, facial cleanser and moisturiser.
"How would you like to start?" she signed playfully. He grinned.
"I'd get your accessories off first!"
He'd never thought he'd have this privilege, to reach around the back of her neck and unclasp her necklace, to reach further still around the back of her neck and fiddle with the clips in her hair, trying to prolong the moment as he felt her breath, warm and soft on his chin.
What was he thinking? A guy like him would never get such a good chance. He felt himself panic. He hurriedly snapped back the chain and whipped it over her head. His frantic movement caused Shouko to panic, jutting her head up and hitting Shouya nicely on the forehead.
"Ouch!"
"Ah! Sorry...sorry..."
As he watched her hands move, looked at her fragile smile, he was reminded of her innocent gaze, the ready smile she presented on her face as she asked him to be friends.
Before he took that innocence away...
"Didn't I tell you to stop apologising?" His self loathing had snapped, evolving into his short retort that only made him feel worse. Self blame washed over him in waves, the sadistic whisper that this bliss he could enjoy with her was short lived, she was only standing on ceremony, only being friends with him because she felt sorry for him, his sorry self, and he didn't deserve pity from anyone, least her, whom he had so badly treated in elementary school...
Her hands froze and her lip trembled. She calmed herself, persuading herself he was just nervous. He hasn't done this before, hasn't been so close to a girl before, she reasoned, placating her anxious self.
She tried to dismiss the nagging thought that he didn't want her, that he found her and her disability disgusting, that he was only standing on ceremony, only being friends with her because he felt sorry for her, and that there was nothing more in his feelings towards her...
He reached out again, partly to calm her, partly to steady his own nerves. He brushed back her hair, tucked it behind her left ear. He froze.
He saw the hairline scar behind Shouko's ear, not too big nor too noticeable, but deep enough to be permanent, a searing on her face and her soul.
There was a whisper in the wind, a tone of torment wafting into the atmosphere.
He saw himself in elementary school, hand clenched into a fist, the innocent cruelty of children when they taste the bittersweet pleasure of tormenting another.
His vision slid in and out of focus and he realised he hadn't gotten over it, hadn't gotten over himself, that past self and the abhorrent ghosts of the past that threatened to strangle him if he walked back down that road.
Two years and six shattered hearing aids later, and he's still learning to forgive himself.
Two hands grabbed his and snapped him out of his dazed reverie.
"Nishimiya-san…" he looked down.
Her hands flew up, around, then clasped together.
Why? What did I do wrong? Are we...still friends?
His hands trembled as he replied.
You didn't do anything. Its fine-
You were looking at my scar there. I felt your fingers brush against it. What's wrong? Didn't you tell me we could start over?
He picked up a packet of wet tissue, miserable for himself and even more miserable for Shouko. She didn't understand, she didn't get how he still hated himself everyday, tried to embrace his happiness but couldn't escape the demons that threatened to drown him, and how he would never measure as a man worthy of her, worthy of her feelings and her beautiful spirit...
He realised the wetness on Shouko's face, not wetness from his tissue. He looked down, peered into her brown eyes, and finally realised she knew everything all too well.
Her hands moved again. The tissue dropped, forgotten in a corner on the floor. Everything else faded except her hands and that pleading look begging him to believe in her, to believe in himself.
"We can't change what happened in our past, but we can control our happiness now!"
She was full blown crying. He hated it when she cried. He had promised her sister he wouldn't make her cry.
But if crying can solve anything, I want to cry. I want you to cry. I want us to cry together.
"Shouko."
It was a pained voice, one weary of all the mistakes made in one's short lifetime, and it broke her heart.
"I don't deserve you. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve you -"
"Ai..." she croaked, the words rusty and unused. "I dun desher...tu. Yoo."
He grabbed another tissue and began dabbing her face, first to dry her tears, then to clean the makeup that lay in splotches on her complexion.
The trust, the faith that lingered in one another seemed to enfold them, wrapping around in cords that bound them in this vulnerable moment.
They were friends yet not friends, felt they didn't deserve to know one another yet needed each other so desperately.
They were limits, two different values growing increasingly closer as they stretched towards infinity.
He was crying as they completed. She wondered if they were happy tears or cleansing of necessary pain. His hands slowly moved again.
"Nishimiya...Shouko-san, you're so beautiful even without makeup."
The sound of a single heartbeat, beating in its rapid staccato. The moon was huge and pale outside the balcony.
He spoke as he moved his hands.
"And...and I know...I don't deserve you, but...I love you, Shouko, and I need you in my life. I wanted you to teach me how to live, and now I realised I can't live without you."
He laughed, a short sharp sound that cracked into a sob. "I know the way we met was awful, and I would do anything to turn back time and change than pain you had to bear, that you bear now, because of me."
"But...you told me we could bear it together. You told me I didn't have to suffer alone."
"So...even though I'm a terrible person like this, who's the last person deserving to give you happiness, will you allow me to give you happiness? Will you allow me to take care of you?"
The question hangs in the air. But not for long.
Tissues go flying as she embraces him in a hug and sends him flying to the floor.
The sound is muffled by her face pressed against his shirt, but it still manages to dig deep into the recesses of his heart.
"Yes! Yes!"
He gingerly eases up, finds sensation in his arms again, and carefully embraces her.
Some day, he hopes, he can kiss her, hold her tight forever, dance with her through the night, have her bear his children.
But for now, this small miracle is more than enough.
We are not our mistakes, we are more than our misgivings, and we deserve our own happiness.
Inspired by Koe no Katachi, the film released in 2016.