Chase more sunsets with you

Chapter 9

Carl's Mom's POV

The early morning light filtered through the hospital window, casting long shadows across the room. I sat beside Carl's bed, clutching his hand as if by holding on, I could keep him anchored to this world. The beeping of the heart monitor had become erratic, a stark reminder of the battle that was nearing its end.

Carl's father stood by the window, his shoulders slumped in defeat. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional beep from the machine. I could barely look at Carl; the sight of his pale, motionless face was almost too painful to bear. We had been waiting for hours, hoping against hope that a miracle might come our way, but the doctors had given us little reason to believe.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It felt like time had slowed to a crawl. Each second stretched into eternity, the minutes merging into an agonizing wait. My thoughts raced back through the events of the past few days—the messages from Haruki, the glimpses of Carl's recent life that we had only just begun to understand.

Carl's phone lay on the bedside table, a silent witness to the unspoken words and unfinished conversations. I had tried to contact Haruki, but there had been no response. I could only hope that he would receive the message we had sent, explaining Carl's condition and the heartbreaking reality of our situation.

The heart monitor's beeping grew more irregular, each beep more desperate than the last. I could see the worry etched on Carl's father's face as he turned from the window, moving closer to Carl's bed. We both knew that the end was near, and the realization was almost unbearable.

The monitor emitted a final, prolonged beep before falling silent. I felt a chill run down my spine as I looked at Carl. His breathing had stopped, and the room seemed to grow colder, as if acknowledging the loss we had just experienced. I squeezed his hand, but there was no response. Tears streamed down my face as I whispered a final goodbye.

"Carl," I choked out, my voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I wish there was more we could have done."

As I sat there, grappling with the reality of his passing, the door to the room opened, and a nurse entered, her expression sympathetic. She checked the monitors and confirmed what we already knew. With a nod of understanding, she left us to our grief.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady myself. The weight of Carl's absence was almost too much to bear. We had been given so little time to prepare for this, and the finality of it all was overwhelming. I looked at Carl's phone again, the unread messages from Haruki standing out against the backdrop of our grief.

My heart ached for Haruki, who had been such an important part of Carl's final days. The messages had revealed a depth of feeling that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. I wished more than anything that Haruki could have been here to say goodbye, to understand the full extent of the impact he had on Carl's life.

As I held Carl's hand, I made a silent promise to him. I would do everything in my power to honor his memory, to share his story and the love he had found in his final days. It was a small comfort, but it was all I had.

Haruki's POV

Back in Japan, I sat in my small apartment, the weight of my departure from the Philippines still heavy on my heart. The days since I had returned had been filled with a mix of nostalgia and regret. I missed the vibrant energy of Quezon City, the warmth of the people, and most of all, the time I had spent with Carl.

My blockmate in Ateneo had told me about a place where I could leave a message for Carl, so I decided to write something on the UP Diliman Freedom Wall on Facebook. It seemed like the only way I could reach out to him, to express the feelings I hadn't had the chance to share before leaving.

I sat down at my desk, staring at the blank page of my laptop, struggling to find the right words. I wanted to convey everything I felt—my gratitude, my affection, and the sadness of our abrupt parting. As I typed, my thoughts were filled with memories of our time together.

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To Carl, the Fine Arts Boy of UP,

It's my last day today as an exchange student in Ateneo. Tomorrow, I will go back to Japan. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I'm not happy because I'm leaving you, the one and only friend I have, and perhaps my first love.

To be honest, I thought that the heat of Quezon City might be too much for a boy who grew fond of winter. I wondered if I could enjoy the Philippines, but I was wrong. Meeting you changed everything. The heat was still unbearable, but I was sheltered by your warmth every day, along with the many sunsets we watched at the Sunken Garden, which I think became a witness to my happiness.

The Sunken Garden, the warm community of UP, the pancit wanton, the Likot Jeepneys, the Area 31, Aling Tinderas, the cats of UP—IsCats, a keeper and a witness of my fleeting yet short love—will forever be etched in my heart.

I want to thank you for every moment, for every shared smile and whispered secret. You were the gentle breeze on my sunburnt skin, the shade under which I found my solace.

As I prepare to return to Japan, where winter's breath will once again wrap around me, I carry with me the echoes of our laughter and the memory of sunsets draped in hues of gold and crimson.

Though our paths may diverge, and the miles stretch between us, know that you have imprinted upon me a warmth that no winter can extinguish.

So as I leave this place and return to my homeland, I do so with a heart full of gratitude and affection. The heat of Quezon City may have been too much, but it pales in comparison to the warmth of your presence, which I will carry with me always.

Until we meet again, know that you are my cherished memory, the warmth I hold close against the chill of all that is yet to come. Take care, my friend.

この人生で、あなたと一緒にもっと夕日を追いかけられたらいいのに、カール。"In this lifetime, I wish I could chase more sunsets with you, Carl."

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After posting the message, I sat back, feeling a sense of relief mixed with sorrow. I hoped Carl would somehow get to see it, that he would know how much he meant to me. Little did I know, the message would be a bridge to a past that was now out of reach.

As the days passed, I didn't receive a response. I started to worry, feeling that something was deeply wrong. I reached out to my contacts in the Philippines, trying to find any information about Carl. It was only then that I discovered the tragic news of his passing.

The realization hit me like a wave, crashing over me with a force that left me breathless. Carl was gone. The person who had become such an important part of my life, who had shared his world with me, was no longer there. I felt a profound sense of loss and regret, knowing that I had not had the chance to say goodbye properly.

I replayed our conversations, our shared moments, and the happiness we had found in each other's company. It was a bittersweet memory, and the pain of knowing that I would never see him again was almost too much to bear.

The letter I had written, filled with my heart's deepest sentiments, had been my final attempt to connect with him. It was a message of love and gratitude, a testament to the impact he had made on my life. I could only hope that it reached him, that it somehow conveyed the feelings I had been unable to express in person.

As I looked out of my window, the cold Japanese winter settling around me, I thought of the warmth of the Sunken Garden and the sunsets we had shared. It was a memory I would carry with me, a reminder of a love that had been fleeting but deeply meaningful.

"In this lifetime, I wish I could chase more sunsets with you, Carl... but perhaps, in another, I'll find you beneath the same sky."