Fading Embrace: A Love Beyond Adversity

fate

Weeks passed, and one day, I stood by the window, breathing in the fresh air. I saw other patients outside exercising. "Today is a lively, positive, and beautiful day. Everything is so perfect. I'm going outside to exercise," I said, looking at my mom and smiling.

"You're so energetic today. What happened? Do you want something?" my mom asked.

"No, Mom, I just want to appreciate everything," I replied. "Actually, I want something. Can you buy me a new notebook because mine is already full?"

"Okay, your highness," my mom replied. So, I happily went outside to exercise. As the elevator suddenly stopped on the second floor, a boy entered. He was carrying a lot of painting supplies. He seemed to be around my age or older, maybe 18. He was a patient too, as we were both wearing the same plain patient uniform. So were both outside hes minding hes own business so do I. One day, as I was writing a poem while sitting on a bench, the wind suddenly grew stronger.There was a canvas that flew in front of me. I picked it up and saw a drawing of a girl sitting on a bench, writing something in a notebook. "Is this me?" I pondered, glancing around and noticing the boy from the elevator looking at me. He walked over and said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you; it was just the wind," reaching out as if to retrieve his canvas from me.

"No, it's okay. I understand. It's just the wind, haha," I reassured him, handing back the canvas. "Is that me?" I inquired.

It took him a while to respond. "I'm really sorry. I won't do it again. I won't draw you without your permission," he said, bowing his head apologetically.

"So it really is me. It looks amazing. I've never encountered someone this skilled at drawing," I complimented him. He smiled and offered me his drawing. "To compensate for my mistake, if you want this, I will give it to you," he said.

"Really? Okay, I'll accept it. What made you draw me?" I asked.

"I saw you sitting on the bench alone, so passionate about what you're writing in your notebook. I just observed your world, your unique perspective of a lively yet sad world. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a weird guy. I just see the world differently, as if everything in this world has a purpose."I simply nodded at him and smiled. "Thank you for this, Akiyama. I am Leyna Akiyama. Nice to meet you," I introduced myself.

"Chiharu Akira. Nice to meet you too," he responded, and we shook hands.

And so, we continued with our respective activities. He painted, and I wrote.

Chiharu Akira's POV

Chiharu Akira, 17 years old living a simple life with my mom. My dad left us, but he still supports us. We own a small market store. When I was a kid, my mom would always take me to the beach as her birthday present for me. As I draw, I sit beside my mom, and I think that at that moment, it was my most precious memory, I wish I could live in forever. I can't feel too much emotions; that's why I paint everything I see, everything I feel—there's a wealth of emotion in art. Since I was young, I didn't feel sadness or happiness because they could endanger me. When I was young I had a dog named Chihiro. Chihiro would keep me company at home when my mom was busy in the store. We would play until I grew tired and fell asleep. One day, I forgot to close the gate, and Chihiro ran outside, unaware of an approaching truck. I was sleeping when I heard a loud noise. Upon waking, I noticed the gate was open. I rushed outside and saw Chihiro lying in the road, covered in blood. I couldn't bear to look.

 My body felt numb as I walked towards Chihiro. I saw his face, his eyes wide open, a large crack on his head. Seeing this, my body felt heavy, my heart raced, tears streamed down my face, my voice trembled, and I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I couldn't bring myself to approach Chihiro; and everything was all black and I fainted. When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the hospital room, with my mom and a doctor by my side. My mom embraced me, tears in her eyes, a palpable sadness lingering in her gaze.