"- Promise? - Promise."
Shohei Ohtani, a baseball superstar worldwide, carried the weight of an injury that threatened to shatter his dreams. He now faced not only the painful physical injury, but also a disease that posed threat to his mental healt...
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Days later, I found myself standing in front of Shohei's apartment door, feeling a mixture of determination and uncertainty.
When Shohei opened the door and saw me, his guarded expression spoke volumes. It was clear that he was not expecting my visit, nor was he particularly thrilled about it.
"Hey, Sho," I greeted him with a warm smile, trying to mask the apprehension in my voice. "It's been a while since we've caught up."
He glanced at me, a flicker of resistance in his eyes. "Hi Y/N, why you're here?"
"Just, visit. Is that okay?" I innocently asked, as if we had been really close friends.
"I-I don't think that I'm ready for this" Shohei replied curtly, his tone masking the pain beneath.
I already anticipated it, knowing the walls he had erected around himself, the barriers born out of his deep-rooted trauma.
"Are you tired, Sho?" I began softly, searching for the right words.
He sighed, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability in his eyes. "You don't understand," Shohei muttered, his voice laced with a bitter tinge. "You don't know what I've been through."
I met his gaze, letting empathy shine through your own eyes. "You're right, Sho. I can't, I can never. But you once felt safe when you were with me, what about now"
Silence hung heavy in the air as Shohei struggled with his conflicting emotions. The weight of his trauma and his fear of opening up battled against the glimmer of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn't entirely alone.
"I don't need anyone lecturing me". He just coldly split every single word to my face and closed the door apartment.
Yet, despite the sting of his words, I couldn't abandon him. My heart ached for Shohei, for the torment he endured, and the invisible walls he had built around himself. The journey to healing wasn't linear, and I knew that setbacks were inevitable. But I couldn't simply turn away. I believed in Shohei's resilience, in his ability to rise above his pain.
I just stood in front of that closed door, thinking deeply about the chance to connect him. Now? Tomorrow or never?
It was really a difficult test that I could not have the key. If I kept approaching him like this, the key would forever be zero. Maybe another ways may help.
