The sun sunk a quarter into the ground. The roads in front were bustling with cars in traffic, people mingling to and fro the thoroughfares and the noise from the blinking of stoplights, honking of horns and the blaring of singular hit pop-songs.
Despite the noise, however, we remained quiet.
Oh, we talked. We exchanged pleasantries. Words without meaning.
We spoke to fill the space, not the time. As if to get away from the noise, as if to cocoon ourselves from the distractions outside.
Yukinoshita held out a gloved hand, as if begging for something from me. Something I had hoped that I could give. But try as I might, no matter the countless hours I spent over that desk, pouring through workbooks and textbooks…
I simply failed her.
With a heavy heart, I reached into my bag. The metal-locked cooled from the wintry air bit into my skin. I wavered, but perservered nontheless. I was going to show whatever the result was.
Pieces of paper crinkled under my skin as I rummaged through the pack. My eyes searching for the titles of the sheet. Yet, in actually, I was merely looking at the red splotches of numbers written next to the titles. They were the important ones.
They were the ones that signaled my failure.
There…
I found it.
My hands shook from disappointment. But I held on. I took the sheet from the pack and showed it to Yukinoshita, who appraised it with a critical, but somber eye.
"Hikigaya-kun."
She said, her words, after all this time, finally gaining meaning.
"What's the meaning of this?"
With that question, I felt as if I was flushed down a toilet. The world spun, and spun, and spun. I felt as if I could vomit. Failure like this, failures like me…
"I'm sorry."
In the end, I could only apologize.
Yukinoshita sighed, looking up at the sky.
The glass-covered apartment buildings had gained the hue of the vault above it: orange, indigo, violet. The clouds themselves looked like bones darkened into ashes as the sun sunk into the ground.
They looked like prophecy bones, portending my failures.
"Next time," Yukinoshita suddenly said.
"Huh?"
"Next time, you'll get it next time."
"Can't you see?" My voice had a desperate tinge to it, but I didn't care. "There won't be a next time. This is the last."
"No, you just have to study harder."
"This close?" I was incredulous.
But Yukinoshita was unperturbed.
"Yes."
"I can't do it."
"Yes, you can," Yukinoshita said. "You've gotten this far, you can get further."
"But the goal…" The lofty goal that Yukinoshita held me up to. "I can't see myself getting it."
"Hikigaya-kun," with this, Yukinoshita smiled. I found myself floored at this. It was a smile that said, simply, in words as unambiguous as possible, "I believe in you."
But the words that came out of her mouth were different.
"Your eyes see only the darkest things in the darkest light," she began, "this is simply a consequence of them being dead." Then, she pointed at herself, "My eyes, however, see the world for what it truly is. And what it tells me, is that, you can do it."
You can do it…
Those words, when spoken by other people, seem like empty compliments. People hide within them the emotions of pity. They never want to say what was actually on their minds, that of seeing the person failing as nothing but a failure. The moment someone says that to you, is the moment you know… you failed.
But with Yukinoshita, the girl who cannot lie. Who could only speak the truth as she sees it. Who could twist words but speak honestly at the same time. Yukinoshita, the girl, my girlfriend who is trying to encourage me, who can't say a compliment at me without it being backhanded. That same girl, told me, "You can do it."
Thus, I could only say, "Thank you."
Finally, the sun sunk in its entirety, and the moonlight filled the park bench where we were sat in. A world of pleasant quiet enveloped us. It was warm, warmer than our bodies that could almost sink to each other from how close they were sitting.
I looked at the sheet of paper in my hand.
Yeah, I could do it.
It was only a few points.
I would be able to follow Yukinoshita.
And so, thoughts of not being able to do it left my mind. Just as the paper flew from my hand as a gust of wind carried it away. But one last look at the red splotch marking my score, despite being so low, gave me enough confidence to continue on.
'Mock Exams, November Edition
Mathematics: 87.'
I truly had managed to get so far.
I turned to my side, watching as the girl next to me smiled at the sheet flying around.
"Thank you."
"No problem," She said, her words carrying the genuine intent of what she meant to say.
