...As always, quiet places don't suit you.
You're too white, too fragile.
Lying here, you look as if you've been severed from the rest of the world.
Your breathing is shallow. It's rhythmic, but somehow precarious.
...You look pale.
Just standing by the bed, without even touching you, the distance feels too close.
It's not that I didn't know your body was like this. I just—pretended not to see. Because if I did, I wouldn't be able to let go.
When I heard you collapsed, I didn't think about the reason. It wasn't a matter of whether I would come or not. I was already here.
I slide my fingers into the inner chest pocket of my suit. A hard sensation is still there. The locket pendant.
Did you think I threw it away?
I have no memory of throwing it away, nor the resolve to have tucked it away. It has simply been here, all this time.
With your eyes closed like that, it feels like you'd easily pull me back if I called your name. So, I won't call it.
I won't even touch you. ...I no longer have the right to approach.
Even so, I stand here. Not stepping in, yet not stepping away.
That is the correct answer for now. The moment I wish for more, I will make a mistake again.
I don't know if this is regret.
It's not obsession, either.
Simply—
If you are here, alive, and I can confirm that with my own eyes... that's enough.
I am no longer young enough to hunger for anything more than that.