Growing up as a social person, Sora Suzuki was surrounded by love and affection- even from the most random people. Tender strokes, gentle kisses. Love came to him in the form of five unique beings, and damn, he's in deep. But when shit happens, and...
where is the girl who said she'd stand by my side?
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JANUARY NINETEENTH, TWO THOUSAND AND EIGHTEEN
14:45 in the afternoon
A WHOLE WEEK HAD GONE BY. A week without his wife. A week without his daughter. A week without the two girls he loved more than anything. It was just him and his son, alone in a house meant for four.
It was quiet now. The walls watched him with dull eyes, looming around him like ghosts. They were silent; their gazes staring right through him. Sora wondered if they could hear him. If they could hear the way his heart wept for fallen souls. He would have liked to talk. To make himself understood and feel heard. But no words escaped him as he tried and failed to swallow down the knot of fear growing tight in his throat. He was all by himself. For the first time in years.
"Hey, baby," Sora cooed quietly, seeing his son slowly peel open his eyes. He was resting on his chest, his tiny hand curled into a fist. Cerulean eyes stared up at him, quiet, blank.
Sora thinned his lips, taking a finger and brushing under his eye. He swiped the fallen eyelash and held it close to his son's mouth.
"Blow," he said. "And make a wish. It'll come true. Papa will make it happen."
His son blinked slowly.
Sora chuckled lowly. "You probably don't understand, huh?"
In times like these, Sora could hear the lighthearted laughter of Mikayo in the background. He would look hopefully to the side, desperately wishing that this was just a nightmare. That she wasn't actually gone. That she was still by his side. She wasn't.
And his heart would shatter once more.
The living room was silent as Sora sat by himself, looking out the window and seeing the city resting contently underneath. The people buzzed through the streets like ants, moving with the current of time he couldn't control. His son laid against his front, head pillowed on Sora's left shoulder. In the morning sunlight, his eyes glittered faintly grey. Sora couldn't help but notice how it looked much like Mikayo's. Oh, how he wished to see them again. To see the warmth that shone in them, the love, the affection. Sora longed to feel something other than this cold loneliness that submerged him under the harsh push and pull of a frightened ocean.
His son yawned, fixing his position and squishing his round cheeks against Sora's bare skin. Sora cracked a tired smile.
"Tired?"
His son didn't reply.
"Hm," he hummed, drumming his fingers softly against the baby's back. "Guess I am too..." He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back. His body was stiff from sitting in the same position for hours. He felt like a board of wood, ready to snap in half at any moment. He felt tired. So terribly, terribly tired.
