How do I love thee?

- Part I -

The heavy rainfall drowned the sound of shattering glasses. The thunderstorm had not stopped, contradicting the weather news earlier that day. As the rain poured, the thunder roared. The lightning illuminated the dark house for a moment, but soon the shadows swallowed everything again.

It was very late in the evening now, the second hand of the clock struck twelve. People were surely in their deep slumber, deaf and blind to anything actually happening in their surroundings. Deaf and blind to the screams of the woman crawling on the ground, dragging her bloody legs as she clawed on the carpet. No one would come to help. No one. Not even her own husband.

She had shed all tears she could running her tear ducts dry. The skin once fair and flawless was now studded with long, bloody lacerations that almost tore her muscles apart. Her legs, now out of its senses, were dragged with her as she tried to run away from the kitchen. Though her voice was hoarse – it hurt to utter a word – she continued to make sounds hoping that someone, just someone, would come and help her.

In spite of the darkness of the house, she groped the ground, pulled herself up and groped her way again. She would leave this place. Now. No matter how impossible that idea seemed to sound.

This was a nightmare. All nightmares might be horrible, but this was considered the worst. She regretted coming to this place.

Suddenly her hand touched a cold, soft object – or was it not just an object? – making the woman stop on her track. When the lightning shone brief illumination, she shrieked in horror as she came face to face with a man lying on the floor bathing with his own blood.

No wonder why her husband wasn't here to rescue.

Her whole body was trembling violently, she lost the last bits of energy and will in her mind and body. This would be the dead end for her. The tears she thought lost trickled down her cheeks as she pulled herself closer to her cold, stiff husband. "This is the end," she thought. "There's no other way out."

"Indeed. There's no way out," a voice echoed. The rain poured harder as the wind shook the shut windows. The thunder roared like a ferocious lion this time, its sound lingered in the air.

The woman knew what would happen next, she was no idiot. Slowly turning her head to where the voice was from, she saw her murderer standing a few meters from her. His head hung low. He had a kitchen knife on his left hand, veins almost bulging out with such tight grip. She could see his shirt stained with blood of hers and her husband's.

"This was the end," he lifted his head as the lightning flashed. For the first time she saw his face. Icy blue eyes void of any mercy glanced down at her. It was the same face her daughter talked about for countless times. The face she and her husband refused to believe.

"Good-bye, Mrs. Hatsune."

Life is definitely lonely for some reasons. These reasons can either be relative or just the general truth. But for a girl living inside a hole filled with murky thoughts, life is lonely and that is her truth.

Nothing can change something held to be true for some time. No one could just come and say that the sky wasn't really blue. Nobody could claim that we were actually living in a different dimension, that we were the strangest form of living things in the cosmos. Likewise, no one could take the sadness away from Miku now that it was stitched to her very being.

She was crying again, curled up on her bed with her chin resting on her knees. The sheets underneath her were creased and crumpled, but she couldn't care less. Letting her tears fall was the top priority right now, so ignore the insignificant stuff. Just let it all out.

Another person left her life. As she looked at the plain white ceiling with her eyes red, questions ran in circles inside her head. It had been like this ever since she was young, she was always alone. Gone were the comrades who promised they would stay, their whereabouts were unknown. She sobbed again, feeling like a wound had been seasoned with salt. It was such a painful, unending and crude experience.

Miku grabbed the nearest pillow and there she buried her face. She was sorry for this room after witnessing all of her breakdowns but thankful at the same time for bearing with her. If they could speak, maybe this place would wish her to leave. Or the other way 'round. Who knows?

The room was filled with her soft sobs. Shoulders trembling, she tossed on the other side. It was almost nightfall, her unlit room was slowly succumbed by the shadows. The girl remained on her bed, still crying her heart out, not caring if it would be dark as nothingness. The cool wind slipping through the gap on her window went unnoticed too. You know, vulnerability could do wonders.

Amid her ceaseless whimpers, faint slow footfalls could be heard. Miku knew to whom it belonged since there was only one person left in her life. It happened just like that - the wooden door of her closet opened as it creaked. Quickly, a bit of the bed sunk behind Miku as a thin, cold arm draped on her waist. She felt him leaning on her back, his forehead pressed on it.

"You're crying again," his voice soothing, said. "You know I hate that."

In between her sobs she managed to say, "I hate it too."

The two of them remained quiet for a good half minute, finding comfort in their shared silence. Her shoulders continued to tremble, passing on her uncontrollable body impulse to him. His hold on her waist was kind and gentle like a mother's, fingers entwined with her long teal hair. He hated it whenever she was crying, he already told her. And yet here she was, shedding tears like a thunderstorm.

"Who did it this time?" he broke the silence first. When she did not reply, he talked again, pushing a banana plush to her arms. "It wasn't nice of them to make someone cry on her sixteenth birthday."

"Of course it wasn't," she screamed against the pillow, body shaking more violently. Her nails dug deep on the plush. He could hear how her voice trembling as she spoke. "I...I just...maybe it's human nature."

He didn't say a thing.

"...or maybe...it's just me. Am I that despicable?" she lifted her face off the pillow.

The tear-soaked pillow was discarded on the floor as her eyes reconnected with the whiteness of her room. She almost missed its whiteness, given the dim lighting in her room. But she didn't care whether there was light or none. It was just the same anyway, her room was still uninteresting.

"Do you hate me, Len? Do you hate me like others did?"

Miku heard him tut in disagreement, his head wincing. His arm slipped away from her waist to push himself up and glance at her beautiful visage. The white ceiling was replaced by a familiar face, and seeing him lit up a smile on her face.

Those sunken blue eyes and pallid skin...

His chapped lips and blood-stained shirt...

Those wisps of blond hair dyed with blood stains...

Miku shed another tear – this time because of happiness. She lifted her hands to touch his face, his cool skin never failed to calm her down. He was the only friend she had, the only one who would never break the promises they shared.

"I don't, and you know that," his words granted her assurance that there was still a person left for her. "I won't leave you like what they did. I promise."

Miku knew he would stay.

Len always stayed.

Ever since.

Closing the gap between their bodies, Len leaned down to give her a hug. It was what she needed now, solace, and only he could give that.

She remembered how they first met eight years ago. Her pants were drenched with her own pee since her mother refused to take a stop. It was a long ride, she recalled, for that day they moved to a new place. Yearly they would move around so just to adjust with her parents' duties in work. They were indulged to their works, sometimes neglecting that they had a daughter waiting for them every evening. She was always sitting before the dining table alone wishing that her parents would come to eat with her. Miku had countless stories to tell her dad and mom, but they were always away.

It had always been a ritual, somewhat tradition, to move out from place to place because of her parents' works. At a very young age, Miku accepted the impermanence of life in a literal sense. She couldn't make life-long friends. What did she know about communication? She was a mere ghost, a label. Miku was a plain evidence that her parents made love one steamy evening. She was the element which made their image a "family".

When Miku went first inside their new house, she never imagined befriending someone. For all her life, she hadn't made friends with anybody in a particular city where they settled down. It was easier to leave with fewer baggage, her mom said. Have no attachments so it would be easy to leave and forget – easy.

The house Miku's parents found was old, its design was like from the story books her dad had read her to sleep. The archs, the porch, the tall garden walls where ivories grew; it had a nice architecture reeking of antiquity. The classic.

At an instant, she wandered inside the house, leaving her parents behind. Her feet stomped on the shiny wooden pallets as she ran up the second storey. Her little hands grazed on the tapestries as she walked from halls to halls, momentarily pausing to take a glimpse of the unknown portraits hanging on the wall. The girl she was, curious like a cat, opened each rooms within her reach and started to assess which one should she take. She had all the freedom to choose, they'd give anything anyway, as a compensation for their absence. Nevertheless, no luxury could replace the love and attention she was asking for. Was she given any other choice? No. She better appreciate what was served on her plate.

It was then when she found the narrow staircase leading to the attic. The dim passage could be barely seen, but thanks to the bright sunlight passing through a small window behind her. The girl ran up and twisted the knob, pushing herself inside a room covered with dust fine as snow. If she would walk she'd leave her footprints – the idea excited her, it reminded her of the seaside. Gladly she took a step forward, followed by series of steps that left dark prints on the ground. Twirling and waltzing all by herself, Miku found joy in solitude. She was a princess, and this was her kingdom. The lonely, empty loft served as her grand ball. She was a lovely girl, only if her parents had seen that.

Her music was the cicadas singing from the trees nearby. The sound of her dad's stomping echoed faintly like distant drums. When the wind blew, shaking the windows, everything felt surreal. So she moved, and twirled, and hopped – eyes closed to feel the moment. Her imagination was something really developed since she was always left all by herself. This didn't last long, however, when she stepped on a soft object where her foot sunk in. Looking down, she saw a...banana plush?

The curious girl picked up the toy, wondering what use would it be for her. She took it in her arms and turned to run downstairs at her mom's call. Quick, light steps brought her to help her mom soon while the banana plush was in her arms. She carried it not knowing where it came from.

Days had passed since they moved in. Once again, she was left alone inside the house. It was in the middle of summer break so she was stuck indoors with no vigour to go out and play. She had made no friends yet, by the way.

Miku was sitting on her bed, glancing down on the neighborhood through the gaps of her curtains. She watched how the children of her she ran around the lawn next to hers, firing water-guns to each other. That might be a nice game to play under the summer heat, she thought, feeling more sullen. She wanted to lick an ice cream too after a tiring game.

Drawing the curtains together, she collapsed on her bed. The banana plush cushioned her head. It was cool inside her room, the AC was set to 18°. Well, it was cooler compared outside. But she wanted to feel the heat for fun, with fun. Sighing in disappointment, Miku closed her eyes. For a moment, it was peaceful. It was just her and the plush, the cute snorts of the children from the neighborhood and the cool air.

She was almost asleep when the serene trance was broken by a soft sobbing. Miku jolted up from her seat, ears perking up at the strange noise. It was someone, wasn't it? Her ears wouldn't wrong her. She remained still, waiting for the sob. The wailing resumed, though, much to her surprise, and it was clearer this time. A neighbor must have broken in her place? Jumping down her bed, Miku walked quietly to find where it came from.

Quiet as a mouse, she moved towards the door. It must be someone – a child, she hoped – trapped in their backyard. The plywood her dad put there must have fallen when the kid tried to sneak in. However, her mind stopped drawing conclusion when the girl stood before the old closet, still in her room. The sobbing was coming from here, it was faint enough – or maybe loud? – to make it sound as though it was projected from the ground floor. Now, what was hiding here.

She just remembered that this wooden cabinet was here when they moved in. It was a pretty antique stuff her mom fancied, but when Miku asked to keep it, her mother gave in. It was a half-hearted decision, Miku recalled. The night after that, her mom was just calling her dad by his name. Meiko must really liked the closet but had no choice but to hand it to her daughter. Again, as a compensation.

Fearlessly and curiously, the girl pulled the doors a fraction heavier than her weight. At first it was just her clothes hanging that welcomed her sight, until she noticed someone crouching underneath the hems of her dresses.

"Hey, what are you doing there? Are you a thief?" Miku waited for the person to answer. There was a sobbing instead of a reply. "Stop crying and get out. I'll call a police if you don't."

She heard how her clothes ruffled under the person's weight, and soon it stepped out of the closet. He was taller than her–way taller, she only reached a little above his hips. He was rather pale and thin as if he was ill. His eyes were red and wet with tears. Miku looked up to him with wonder.

"Aren't you too big to cry?" she stepped backwards to have a good view of his face. His unruly blond hair looked like he just came out of the bed. His lips, chapped and almost blue, quivered as though it was wintry cold in her room.

He was too thin, she thought. The clothes he had on was untidy, and he was barefooted too! Where did he come from?

Miku watched him as he sat beside the closet, sitting where its shadows lay. There he hugged himself, dark circles under his eyes looked grim. His thin arms were scratched, some traces of blood had gone dry on his skin. He must be chased by a dog, Miku mumbled.

"What's your name? I'm Miku." She sat before him, keeping a safe distance between them. Wasn't he too old to act like this? "How did you get in here?"

"H-how did you get i-in here," the boy quietly repeated, his hard glare casted on the innocent girl. "How?"

"We bought it? Or rented? I'm not sure," Miku answered, pulling the banana plush from behind. She began fiddling it. "Are you okay? You look thirsty."

"I am..." he looked away, wide eyes examined the room. Everything was white, the wall, the curtain and the ceiling, except for a pieces of furniture.

"I'll get you a glass. Wait for me."

"...sad," he spoke, closing his eyes. His hoarse voice made his words unintelligible. "I am sad. Don't go."

This meeting was the beginning of an unlikely friendship.

request: "I found him in my closet crying. He told me he was alone and sad, so I became his friend. He's my invisible friend because nobody but me can see him. Because his heart no longer beats."