It's been two months. Two months since you walked out my door and I haven't seen you since.
I can still remember it; remember the way you looked at me, the words you spoke, the anger and venom in your words. And more than all of that, I can still remember the way my heart felt; the way I've felt every single day since then.
Even now, as I sit here watching the snow softly falling outside my window, all I can think about is you. Maybe it's the time of year or maybe it's just that I'm not over you and never will be. I wish... I wish you were here to hold me again, just the way you used to.
If I close my eyes, I can feel your breath on my neck. If I strain my ears hard enough, I can hear your words whispered so softly in my ear. If I let myself cry, I can feel your thumb so gentle on my face as you wipe away my tears.
I try to convince myself of that. But when I close my eyes, all I feel is the chill coming in through the window. When I listen as hard as I can, all I can hear is the rush of the city below me. And when I cry, all I feel is the sting in my heart. You're not here and you won't come - not even in my mind.
If I lost my mind, you'd be there. Or maybe even in insanity, you'd abandon me.
My hands tremble as I bring them to the window, wiping away the condensation my breath has created upon it. I don't know why I do it, I don't even know why I care.
My eyes scan the street six stories below. People come and people go, rushing through the soft white snow as if it burns them. Every now and then a car passes by, leaving a trail behind it to tell that it has been there. Kids rush from parents, eager to play in the snow - too young to know they should fear it as their elders' do, too naive to care. The feet of passersby trod the ground a sludgy grey on one side of the street while the other remains brilliant white and pure.
A lone man makes his way across the pure white, his footfalls leaving perfect indentations of his shoes. A disruption of the pristine. If it were an easel, my fingers would ache to correct it. He pauses at the corner of the building across the street, his head bowed against the cold, his hands in his pockets. I watch him, fascinated by his presence. Why is he there? What purpose could he serve that he comes with nothing in his hands, nothing on his shoulders, and comes to stand with his head bowed and his posture so defeated?
My hand wipes away more condensation and he pulls his hands from his pockets, a pack of cigarettes in one and a lighter in the other, the silver of it glinting under the streetlamp. The pack gets put back and then the lighter flares, the flame dancing on the wind. For an instant, his face is lit, but even squinting, I cannot tell who he is. The fire extinguishes and the cherry of his cigarette remains visible as he takes a drag.
His smoke clouds the air, blending with the snowflakes as they fall from the sky. Two ends of a spectrum. I watch, fixated on that body, the way he shifts from one foot to the other, the way he keeps looking up at my building, his face shadowed by the hood he's wearing. There's something so achingly familiar about his mannerisms.
A gust comes, almost ripping his cigarette from his hand. The hood falls away and all I can see is that brilliant red hair. My heart freezes in my chest, my hands slamming to the window as a cry leaves my lips. No... it can't be. And yet... it is.
He looks up one final time and I claw at the window, grabbing the bottom and yanking it upward. I can't let him go. I can't let him walk away without knowing that I know. The pane slips up easier than I expected and I lean out the window, the chill of the air immediately permeating my body. "Die!" I cry it out in a way that leaves no hesitation to the fact that I'm longing for him, that I need him back in my life so bad it hurts.
He pauses, his hood now back up and his hands in his pockets. His posture is rigid and I can almost see the look on his face despite the fact that he's facing away from me.
"Please." One word, spoken so softly that there's no way he could possibly hear me from this high up. It's only because of the air inversion that he heard me the first time. A stroke of luck gifted from a higher power.
He doesn't turn around, simply bows his head and walks away. My heart falls as I start to shiver from the freezing cold. He turns the corner out of sight and I pull myself back into my apartment, closing the window and sinking to the floor, clutching my arms around myself.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, trying so hard not to cry. Flipping it open, I find my single ray of hope.
'Rei, keep warm. Please understand. I'm just not ready to do this. Another time, another day. I haven't forgiven you yet. When I do, I'll be at your door - not staring up from below. I... I still love you. ~Die'
I just sit there, staring down at my phone, the small device clutched so tightly in my hands. Tears course down my cheeks as I flip it closed and hold it to my heart. I'll hold onto you, Die. I'll hold on to you until my very last breath.