XXII: Foolish Dreams
The hardest part of losing someone isn't having to say goodbye, but rather learning to live without them. Always trying to fill the void, the emptiness that's left inside your heart where they go.
The reality of it is that you will grieve forever. You'll not get over the loss of a loved one; you'll just learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you've suffered. You will be whole again, but you'll never be the same. Nor should you be the same.
Nor should you want to.
The air is stale, the world is silent.
Yukari hates the hospital. Even after accompanying him here multiple times, she still couldn't quite get used to the oppressive atmosphere and the shadows of deaths that hug and grab some people, while letting others go. When he was visiting here, she always made a point of saying how much she wanted him to stop coming back to this place, to get better, to finally be free.
And yet, here he is… here they are.
The beeping sound of the life support is nothing but background noise. There's not a movement in the room, nor outside; the birds don't sing, the leaves don't dance, as if to mourn for this gentle soul, who's dying. A gentle soul, who deserves so much better than this short, miserable life, where his happiness always ends just as soon as it happens.
She wants it to be nothing more than a nightmare; she wants to close her eyes and wake up into his warm arms and his scarred chest, kissing his skin as she stirs in the morning, giggling at him as he makes an off-hand comment about the smell of the coffee, holding his hand as they get up. She wants to wake up from this unending horror into the morning where everything's okay, where everyone's free, where they all live happily ever after, like all the romantic movies she's always seen.
But here, she's anchored to the cruel reality that he's still sleeping, unmoving, dying. Mitsuru had him on life support as soon as they – as she notices that he's not waking up like he should after he's fallen asleep on the roof, as if to buy time that never waits, as if to prolong the inevitable that she doesn't (couldn't) accept. The last thing he did was smiling at her as she held him in her arms, her memories back in full, and what had she been doing, all those days, all those weeks ago?
Nothing, a voice in her head hisses like a serpent, biting into her soul and forcing her to face her own ignorance. You did nothing while he's dying and in pain. You remembered nothing while he remembered everything about you.
She couldn't even cry.
"Kid," The voice pulls her out of her thoughts. She doesn't look up, her eyes still focusing on his hand – scarred beyond healing, blackened and crooked, and cold. He used to be warm. He should be warm. He should be awake and smiling at her, not sleeping his life away like this. When she doesn't respond, the voice sighs, and she feels someone shuffling to stand beside her. "You should get some rest."
"No," She responds immediately, her voice raw from crying and begging the gods to save him. She grips Makoto's hand harder, wishing, hoping, that he would wake up with a yelp and smile at her, forgiving her roughness. She could feel the pieces of her heart scattering across the floor, but she just doesn't care anymore. "I don't want to. I can't. Not until he wakes up. What if—"
"—I'll keep watch," The man says quietly, his voice subdued, no longer bashful and rough like it used to be. He's softer, a bit more considerate. She sees his large, rough hand covering her own, squeezing her hands gently. "I promise. He wouldn't have wanted this for you."
"How could—" She begins, but stops midway. How could you possibly know what he would've wanted for me, is what she wants to say. But she knows that Aragaki knows. He's the only one who knows. He's always known, and he's been staying by Makoto's side, all this time, while she just pranced around like a bitch that she is, oblivious to his pain, unable to recall the bond they've made, all the love he's given her, all the kindness he's shown her.
He became a stranger simply because she couldn't remember.
She inhales shakily, trying to find her voice. When she does, it's rough, it's broken, it's barely above a whisper as she says. "…I don't want to. I don't… I can't… I just can't leave him be. I have to stay here. I must stay here."
"Kid," Aragaki says again, this time drawing her eyes up. He's not scowling. He's just looking at her with a sad smile that doesn't belong there. He pats her head, and he's so warm, a stark contrast to the cold fingers in between her palms. "I'll let you know if anything changes. Go eat. Sleep. Come back when you're not shaking on your legs, okay?"
I don't want to leave, her stubborn heart says. He's here, he's dying, and she doesn't want to let go. If she does, if he—if he goes away when she's not here, she won't be able to live with herself. She won't let go, she can't afford to, not like this. He deserves more than this. And she wasn't there when he needed her most – what kind of girlfriend is she? To leave him behind, alone, when he's dying?
But she knows that Aragaki is right… If – when he wakes up to her like this, he's not going to be happy. He's going to reprimand her for not taking better care of herself, so she sighs and nods, defeated. She stands up, her legs shaking and unsure, before she plants a kiss to his forehead (cold, he's so cold), and pats his hair lightly with her hand. "…I'll be back in a bit, okay? Wait for me."
When she exits the room, she sees Fuuka and Mitsuru there, their smiles forced, unsure. She just regards them with a small bow before heading towards the exit.
"Yukari," Mitsuru says as she and Fuuka accompanies her. How long have they been waiting for her out here, she wonders? "Let's head back to the dorm first, and then you catch some sleep, alright? I'll get you back here first thing the next morning."
I can't wait that long, she thinks, but she knows Aragaki must've ordered Mitsuru so. She isn't going to get away with it, so she sighs and nods. "Okay. Thanks, Senpai."
She wants to go back there so bad, but a small part of her thinks Makoto's going to scold her if she doesn't take better care of herself. With a dejected sigh, she decides to stop thinking about it, at least after until she gets some sleep.
His room looks just the same.
After a tasteless meal and a cold shower, she finds herself here yet again. The curtains are drawn, the bedsheets neatly tugged into the corners of the mattress, his MP3 lies forgotten on the desk. She thinks no one has been in here ever since he's hospitalized (she keeps telling herself that, but her rebellious heart knows it's not just that anymore), and Aragaki's given her another copy of the key to his room, with him holding on to one set of his own.
She stumbles around, fingers tracing the cold table. Even his pens and papers are still there, a written passage left unfinished, a curry bun Junpei bought him left untouched. There's an empty cup of coffee on the table, the remaining contents long since dried up. But it doesn't look old; a couple of days, at most. He most likely must've drunk it before going to the roof on that day.
She then touches the bed, cold and soft. She could still remember them cuddling each other here, the blanket around their forms, their hands joint together. He's always so gentle, so warm, so kind. And she remembers him smelling like coffee and fallen snow; he's always smelt like that, even before he began cooking, she thinks. She's never told him this, and now she won't get the—
She stops herself by curling up on his cold bed, inhaling whatever lingering scent there is, wrapping herself up in the sheets that used to be warmer. She could still feel him wrapping his arms around her, could still feel his breath tickling her hair, could still feel his lips moving beside her ear as he whispers sweet little nothings, lulling her to sleep, always.
Whimpers escape her throat as she curls up into a tiny little ball, as if to trap whatever she could feel within her forever. She doesn't want to forget, she won't, she can't. So, she closes her eyes, focusing herself on feeling his arms around her again. She wishes for him to wake up — he has to. He beat Nyx, he won them this freedom, so he has to live, too.
Silently, she curses herself for ever forgetting him. How could she, when he remembers all the little details for all this time? Aragaki never forgets, then why did she? How could she?
She curls up just a little more, cocooning herself under his memories—
No, she chides herself with a frown. Don't say that like he's already dead. He's alive. Don't give up on him yet, Yukari. He's never given up on you, so don't you freaking dare.
"Makoto," She whispers into the empty room, to the gods above and demons below, to the ghosts that walk between the worlds. "Makoto, please, I'm here, now. Please, don't leave me behind."
You promised me you won't leave me alone. You promised me you'll live.
"You promised. Please, don't leave me like this."
She repeats those words like a mantra until she falls asleep on the bed, surrounded by nothing but the deafening silence.
"His pupils are already unresponsive, Kirijou-san. He's already—"
"—I know."
She doesn't want to hear any of it, but she has to. It's already been a week after the Graduation, and here they all are, in the hospital. Mitsuru is having a conversation with the doctor. She doesn't want to hear it. She wants to keep believing that he'll eventually wake up, that this is just a stupid nightmare created by Nyx to throw them off, just a dream that she'll inevitably wake up from.
But this is not a dream. This is real. The feelings of her nails digging into her own flesh and drawing out blood is real. The feeling of her shoulders shaking as tears threaten to rip themselves out from her eyes is real. Aragaki's hand on her head and Fuuka's hand on hers and Junpei's shoulder pats are all real and this is not a nightmare but a reality.
A cruel, harsh reality that she wants to run away from.
Her eyes then refocus on Mitsuru as she kneels before her, clasping one of her hands in her own, her soft (they're usually so sharp) red-tinted brown eyes are looking straight at her. After a moment, her senior says, pensive, as if afraid to upset her. "Yukari, I… I know it's hard, and I don't want to do this, but…"
"But what?" She bites out, her own voice foreign to her ears. It's sharp and cold and resentful. She isn't even sure why. But she couldn't even think as her mouth moves on its own. "But what, Senpai? Are you asking me to pull the damn plug? Are you asking me to give up?"
"Yukari…"
"I can't!" She's half screaming, the tears that's been collecting in her eyes for the past week finally spilling out, relentless. She curls into herself, nails deep into her own arms. "I forgot him! I can't give up on him now or… I—I can't, not like this, not when he spent the past month alone while I just prance around like a goddamn bitch without even recalling what we are!"
"Takeba," She hears Aragaki's stern voice from her side as she curls up further. When she doesn't say anything, the man continues. "Takeba, listen. He didn't mind. He knew it'd happen, and he knew you wouldn't have wanted to forget. Don't—"
"You could say that because you never forget!" She snaps. "I'm supposed to be his girlfriend! So why!? Why did I not remember a damn thing when he's suffering and in pain!? I should've been there!"
She doesn't want to let go. If she let him go now, it'd mean that she's accepting the fact that it's her own weakness that caused her to forget all about him, even after she's claimed that she loves him. How could she, when she couldn't even recall the bonds they've shared?
She cries and cries and cries until all the tears are dried up and she's left with shaking shoulders and broken sobs that refuse to stop. She doesn't want to give up now, but her head knows, better than anyone, better than everyone, that he's already—…
He's gone, since that day on the roof. He's long since gone.
"I'm so sorry, Makoto," She whispers into the stale air, into the weight of the world that's now on her shoulders. She feels hard, metallic arms — Aigis' — around her body, and the grip on her hands is a little tighter. She closes her eyes and murmurs again, as if begging him to hear her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Yukari," Mitsuru says again, softly. She doesn't look up, but gives her a short hum. "…I know it's hard, but… I think you should be there, when we…"
"…Okay," She nods numbly. Strong hand helps her stand up — Aragaki's, she thinks — and she murmurs a quiet thank you before the SEES make their way to his room.
She refuses to look anywhere but at the floor, her hands still shaking. The sound of the ventilator is so loud, so prominent, like this. She takes in a few deep breaths before looking up, and taking in the sight of him, with a tube down his throat and monitors attached to his body. She whimpers a little, hands fisting her own skirt.
She doesn't want to see the… last (god, the word doesn't belong here) of him like this. She doesn't want to remember him with apparatuses across his body like this. She doesn't want him to be in pain even after he's gone. This is not how he's supposed to look like.
"…Whenever you're ready, Takeba," Aragaki murmurs, patting her head lightly, ruffling at her hair. It's like what he's always done to Makoto — kindly, gently, a reminder that he's here. "Take as much time as you need to."
She could only nod.
The room is silent save for the constant beep, beep of the monitor and the hissing of the ventilator that's keeping him — his body alive. She walks closer, slowly, as if afraid to wake him up (he won't, not ever again), Aragaki sticking close enough to help, but far enough to give her space. Reluctantly, she places a hand on his cheek, soft but cold, and rubs along that little patch of skin under his eye.
You usually would've been up by now, with just a touch like this, she thinks. You would've stirred awake and smiled at me when you see me touching your cheek. And you would kiss me good morning, then we'd go to the kitchen together. You'd always surprise me with a warm meal, and we'd continue our day just like that, kindly, warmly.
But you're not here anymore, the other, darker voice hisses. She bites her lip, and tugs the stray hair behind his ear a little. She closes her eyes and murmurs. "…I'm ready."
She's not, but she knows prolonging the inevitable now will do her no good.
There are rustles around her, and one by one the sounds are silenced. She keeps her eyes closed for what feels like a split second and an eternity before someone touches her shoulder. When she turns to look, Aragaki is there. He then pats her head softly before looking towards the bed again.
Makoto looks like he's just sleeping, but with the tube out of his throat, she's now faced with the fact that his chest has already stilled, and—
—This time, he's truly gone.
She lets herself collapses to the floor and cries until nothing makes sense anymore.
The air is stale, the world is silent.
A lot of people, more than she could ever imagine, attend his funeral a few days later.
A rowdy monk who smokes a cigar, a small girl with her father and mother, an athlete she saw hanging out by the Strip Mall often, an older woman who holds a rugged notebook in her arms, an old couple from that Bookworm store, a businessman (is that Tanaka?) — they don't look like the type to ever be in the same space, yet here they all are, for a single person, too young to die.
A lot of her classmates and underclassmen are here, too. Even Toriumi-sensei, who seems so cold and disinterested in her students, is crying. Odagiri and Fushimi are here, surprisingly, and that Gourmet King she's heard of. There are more, but her mind refuses to name all of them now, so she just returns her face to the closed casket before her.
She couldn't look. After the hospital, she couldn't bare to look at him, cold and unmoving and dead. She couldn't bare to see him like that. It hurts so bad to see him that way, so she just doesn't. A part of her thinks she's running away from the truth, but she doesn't care anymore. She doesn't want to face it. She just wants to forget about all of this.
She feels a hand on her head, and looks up to see Aragaki. He isn't smiling, nor is he scowling, but there is that deep-seated sadness in his eyes as he keeps them on the casket. She doesn't — couldn't look anywhere else as the coffin (it's filled, it's filled with his body in there) is lowered past the maws of the earth. The grave is then filled, slowly, surely, until it's covered.
This time, her mind says, stupidly inappropriate, stupidly direct. This time, he really is gone, dead and buried.
She spends the next — she isn't sure how long, probably a while — moments standing there, not a drop of tear from her eyes, hands clutching the hem of her shirt tightly. The others, except for the SEES, leave as she waits and waits for — something to happen. What, though?
And then, she manages out through her teeth. "…So, this is it, huh…?"
"Yukari-san…" Aigis begins, but she couldn't focus on her, or on anyone.
"Ten years of suffering. A few months of being loved. And then, just like that, it's all over," She murmurs to the wind. She isn't even sure what she's thinking anymore. "He's snuffed out like a candle, leaving us to clean up his mess."
You didn't mean it like that. You just miss him.
"And who's left to be tormented but us?"
Please, stop. Don't say anything more. You didn't mean them.
"I wish I've never known him, never loved him," She says, the words so foul and so painful and they're biting through her tongue and tearing at her lips. "If I've never met him, then I wouldn't have to grief like this. I wouldn't have to suffer like this."
Don't say it like loving him is a mistake.
"I wish I've never met him. I wish I've never fallen in love with someone like him."
Someone that's so broken, that's so gentle, that's so kind. Someone that should've had a better life.
In the end, no one says anything more.
And she's left to drown in her own words as they rip and tear through her soul.
The air is stale, the world is silent.
The next few weeks are a blur of cram schools and clubs and work, work, work, because nothing else makes sense. She locked everything away, threw every evidence of him into a box and kept it out of eyesight while keeping her head busy with whatever else she could've come up with as an excuses to cope with (to run away from) the loss.
It's easier to continue on with her duties and daily lives when she's not shackled down by anything. Just throw herself straight into the books and the school and the club, why not. Keeping her eyes off those things that remind her of him, keeping everyone else away lest the memories of the Dark Hour come back to haunt her.
She stops dreaming maybe two and a half days after the funeral.
But the world's… gray, it's almost colorless. Food is just as tasteless as ever before. She's neither sad nor happy, and living is as much of a drag as dying, she thinks. Talking with people is hard; she just wants to shut people away and mind her own business, gets into a good college, graduate and then earn some money that'd be enough to live comfortably. That's it, that's all she wants.
Is that really the case? A treasonous voice says from the inner depths of her heart, and she tries to turn it away, to snuff it. It only makes the voice louder, harsher, like thunder striking against the surface of the raging sea. You don't want this. You're just running away. You can't do this forever.
I can, just watch me, she hisses back, anger bubbling up her throat. I can, and I will.
It all comes to a head when Mitsuru calls her about something happening to Aigis and the dorm, trapping her inside with everyone else who reminds her of everything that's gone wrong. And to see Orpheus dancing in the world, its face so familiar (no, please, don't use that face), the songs from its lyre so tragic, so maddening — it's driving her up the walls.
Why is Aigis able to call for that power?
The icing on top of the cake is when they reach the bottom floor of the Abyss of Time.
The Shadow takes the form of him.
I miss you, a part of her says. But a bigger, fouler, angrier part of her is hissing and lashing out. What remains in the pit of her stomach is the anger that's steadily growing and the disbelief that's slowly melting away like the last snow before spring. Then, that bigger part of her hisses. Don't remind me of him, I don't want to remember.
It hurts to breathe, but they have to fight if they're going to end this nightmare.
So she takes the Evoker into her hand, and calls for her Persona, just one more time.
(I miss you. I miss you so much. Please don't do this to me. Don't wear that face and fight us, I beg you.)
Grief breeds monster.
To think such a Shadow is born from the SEES' own wish to see him again (she knows she wants to, a lot, deep down), it makes her want to throw up. But alas, the Shadow is now gone, and the Key is in their hands. They can leave this place.
But when Metis comes up with a proposition to look back to the past, to change it (to save him), she just takes it without a second thought.
I want to see you. I'll save you, this time.
Mitsuru is staying by her side, while the others say they need to move on. Hypocrites, all of them. And Aigis, who inherits his power, is undecided. To top it all off, Aragaki is backing her up!
And when she has to face Aigis, she lets it all out; the little monsters she's fed her grieves and her fears and her ignorance to. She begins to say a lot of things, true and otherwise, the words themselves biting into her own lips as she spits and snarls at his inheritor, his protégé. She couldn't understand them – why are they giving up on saving him when the chance is right here?
(Grief breeds monsters, and sadness blinds you. It's how things are, always – and she's blinded, to the fact that things could've gone much differently, had she stopped him from going for Nyx's true body.)
And when the true key is formed, she couldn't help but try to take it from her.
"Give it to me! Give me that key!"
She tugs, she pulls, desperate. But then Metis, forever careful, forever chiding, says with as much emotion as a doll. "It's no use. Only my sister can use the key now."
Yukari lets the words sink in, slowly descending towards the bottommost of her soul, sitting in the tar-like sludge of her ugly emotions. And when they do, she collapses, the truth of the situation – and her own selfish wishes, her own bottled-up emotions – finally brings her down, and the walls she's been carefully building up has finally come undone.
She lets herself cry all the grieves she's been refusing to feel, bawls out all the call for him to come back into the floor, and wails into the darkness of the abyss. "I want to see him! I've left him alone, when he needed me most, and then – then I tried to put it all behind me. Maybe he would've wanted me to move forward, but I can't! I want to see him! I want to save him! I don't care about anything else!"
She can't put it all behind her. She's been lying to herself, all this time, that she could move forward by trying to run from his memories, by forgetting him, but she just can't. She misses him. She wants him back. It hurts to breathe, and she wants nothing more than to feel his arms around her again.
"Yukari…" Mitsuru begins, kneeling down beside her. She doesn't look up as she tries – and fails – to stop the tears from flowing. "There's no way to truly put the past behind you. In the end, you only succeed in running from it. It's painful to face, but if you don't… your wounds will never heal."
"So if I keep facing it, someday everything will be okay, just like that?" She asks between sobs, hands pressed to her eyes, trying to stop herself. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to remember. "Eventually I'll forget all about him, or stop caring? I don't want to! I tried, but I can't! I don't want to forget him!"
Loving him hurts. If I had never fallen in love with him, it might've not been this painful.
But then that would mean that loving him is a mistake.
It isn't.
"…I know," Mitsuru says slowly, and before she knows it, she's enveloped in a warm hug that she hadn't realized she needs until this very moment. "But… can't we be there for you, when things are at their worst? The way you were there for me, last year?"
She looks up. And Mitsuru smiles at her.
"You were there, after I lost my will to live, remember? And… I consider that as one of the most cherished moments of my life. That's why… when we lost Yuuki without being able to even thank him, I swore that I'd be there for you, before myself, if you're suffering, if you're in pain."
"She's right," Aragaki joins, and a hand (so warm, so gentle, just like his) is on her head, ruffling her hair, patting her. "I know I ain't him, but… I hope I can be a shoulder for you to lean on, too. Just like he did for me, and like I did for him. We're family, Takeba."
She isn't sure what she's supposed to say, so she just whimpers minutely.
And then, Aragaki kneels down beside her, a smile on his face. "Makoto told me once; that to live is to connect, to bond, to love and be loved. To live is to suffer and to help others, to feel joy and sadness. Loss is inevitable, but… life is beautiful in its own way. Life is born from the bonds we share, so…"
He then points at his own chest, and then hers.
"As long as we remember, he'll be there, with us. Always."
Oh… She remembers, now.
My life is defined as the bonds I've made, the very connections I've established. If I forget it all… it would've been as if I've never lived before. I can't allow that, not when this life belongs to all of you, not when this life is shaped and made by the things you've given me. If I choose to forget, it'd have meant that I choose to trample on everything you all have done for my sake.
"His life is defined as the bonds he's made with us," She whispers his words spoken to her in the dark not long ago, when Nyx was still there, and he's still alive. And then, she remembers – that he's not gone.
He's still here, with all of them.
"Yeah," Aragaki hums. "He's still here, within all of us, as long as we remember what we've shared."
She then buries her face into Mitsuru's embrace.
She's been an idiot all this time – to think she' trying to forget him, to think she's trying to bury his memories six feet under. If she's done that, it would've meant that he's never lived at all, it would've meant that he's truly gone.
But he's still right here, with all of them, in their hearts.
As long as they remember, he'll be with them.
Always.
Grief truly breeds monsters.
She remembers briefly wishing for death, when he was gone. To think such a brief wish for demise, from her, from people around the world, would be able to give birth to a monstrosity like Erebus.
But this time, she knows better.
He became the Seal to give the world a tomorrow, to give them a tomorrow, to give her a future she could look forward to. So, now that she's here, she's going to keep marching forward, with his memories in her heart — something she would cherish for as long as she live and breathe.
He's watching, and she'll face her fears head on. She'll not run away ever again.
When the time loop is over, and Aigis is awake (oh god, she's not dead, thank god), they all kind-of celebrate the longer-than-a-week day with a hefty meal, by the one and only Aragaki.
While Aragaki is tending to the kitchen, she finds Aigis and, once the android's attention is on her, bows her head and apologizes. "I'm sorry for all the things I've said, Aigis. All those were uncalled for."
"It's quite alright, Yukari-san," She says with a warm, gentle smile that reminds her so much of his. She then places a hand on her shoulder as she continues. "I can't say I understand your pain, but I know it must've hurt a lot… you were the one he shared his deepest bond with, the one he loved the most, and you're the one who love him more than anyone else. So… I can understand your reasons for lashing out."
"Doesn't excuse me for being a bitch, though," She says, ashamed. "…So, yeah, I'm sorry, Aigis. About everything that I've done for the past month."
Then Aragaki yells from the kitchen. "Those Phanta Rhei's hurt like shit, you know!"
"Sorry," She grumbles.
"They did damage my chassis quite a bit," Aigis hums with a small smile.
Yukari couldn't help but groan a little. After a pause, they share a quite laughter. "But… yeah, I'm glad you beat some senses back into me. Who knows what kind of hellfire I would've summoned if I had gone through with changing the past."
"You're most welcomed, Yukari-san."
She then turns to Mitsuru, and once the heiress catches her eyes, she bows deeply. "And thank you, Senpai, for everything. You've done so much for me."
"As you have for me," She hums, patting the chair next to her. "Come. Shinjirou is almost done. You should take a seat before he starts yelling at you about it."
"I guess," She giggles a little and join the team.
After a few more minutes, Aragaki starts decorating the table with myriad dishes that never fails to make her gape. But what catches her eyes are some of her favorite food (much like what Makoto had always prepared for her) on the table. When she looks up, Aragaki just shrugs before sitting down.
"Before you dig in," He says. She then notices that all of them are eyeing their plates much like she just did, with a bit of awe and confusion. "He told me about what your favorites are, so I just made those for you. Y'know… in his memories, or something."
"…I didn't realize he knew," Mitsuru mumbles quietly before smiling. "As attentive as only he could be."
"He told you when?" Sanada asks, looking at his steak. "And I didn't know he actually knew my—"
"A toddler could've guessed your favorite, Aki, can it," He says before continuing. "But… he had known for a while that he was going to die, so… he'd made sure to leave things behind, in case you guys don't remember him in time."
She whimpers a little at that, remembering that no, it's not just her that forgot.
Before she could wallow in her own misery, Aragaki continues, as if to cut off all of their thoughts. "He's written all of us some… parting words, and an open letter he wanted me to read to you guys. So you better wake up early tomorrow, because gathering like this after we move out of the dorm's going to be a bitch."
"…And you just told us this, now, when you've had a month to say something?" Mitsuru accuses, earning some hums of agreements from the team.
"You said as if y'all are really here and mentally prepared to listen, Mitsuru."
Yukari opens her mouth to retort, but comes up blank. It's true; she's seen it. It's not just her that's not dealing with the loss the healthy way. Hell, Aigis' humanity decides to turn into Metis, and the others are running away or trying to move on much like she did, albeit a bit differently.
Not only that, some of them were just… not having their heads in the right place.
"…Good point," Is what Mitsuru ends up saying after a heavy sigh.
"Let's read the letter tomorrow morning, 9 am, sharp," He says. "I've not read anything he's written me yet, but I can tell you that the damn letter is long. Very, very long."
"Sounds like him," She says. Then she frowns a little. "…Parting words and an open letter?"
"Trust me when I say he wrote a lot of shit within the span of a month," Aragaki says with a huffs as he passes them their utensils. "I've not read any of mine. Figures I'm gonna finish the open letter first."
"I see…"
"Well, let's dig in first, or it's gonna get too late," He says with finality. "To us. All of us."
"To us," They echo.
She, yet again, finds herself in his room, probably for the last time.
The scent is just the same, like coffee and fallen snow, even when she hadn't been in here since his funeral. Everything's cleaned out, his MP3 in Aragaki's possession. But it smells just the same, feels just the same. The air is no longer stale, and she could hear hums of crickets, and the whistling of the gentle spring wind outside.
She moves to sit on the bed, now cold with disuse. She then pulls out the key he's given her in his final day, the key that she'd put away for so long, and takes it into her grasp once again.
"I'm sorry," She says to the silence, no longer deafening, but comforting. She could imagine him here, right beside her, with his hand on hers. "I'm sorry, for trying to forget you, for trying to run away, for trying to undo everything you've done for me — for all of us."
She waits, for him to hear her words.
Then, "I'm going to say that… I'm alright now. I'll be okay, so don't worry, alright?"
She puts the key around her neck again, the cool metal resting snugly on her chest.
Loving you is never a mistake.
"So… please watch me. I'll never forget you, not in a million years, and I'll move forward for you," She says, and she could imagine him smiling at her, could imagine him hugging her and murmuring little nothings into her ear as she leans against him. "I'm excited and anxious to hear and read what you've left for me, so… yeah, I guess there's that, too."
Even if I can turn back time, I'll still choose to fall in love with you, always.
"You've done enough, so rest easy, now, and watch over all of us. And… I'll miss you."
She then smiles.
"I love you, Makoto."
Always have, always will.
