Silence pours into the room around him, and Kale honestly can't bring himself to fight against it.
It had long become a part of him, anyways.
The sound of a tap dripping softly in the silence, and he bows his head, regretting.
It's been nearly a year, but he can't forget, memories clear in his mind (as though it had just been yesterday) and feelings still all too real, tearing at his heart.
'Too late, too late' chimes the clock in the corner of the room, and even though Kale doesn't life his head to look at it, he knows it's there, patiently mocking him.
Everything he did, everything he should have done - it all came back to haunt him at times like these when he finally let down his guard.
It was too late now to fix it.
Ash was gone, and nothing had been left in his wake.
The emptiness was seldom too much to bear, just the silence, the solitude, drowning in emotions every time Kale thought of-
Moss green eyes, always laughing; chocolate brown hair, ever unruly; gentle smiles, warm and safe.
Pretty days which Kale had let go of, stupid, stupid, stupid.
And now it all resounds in his ears like a dissonant mimicry of love, but no matter how hard Kale attempts to block it out, he can't stop this wrong silence from seeping into his brain, covering everything he was in a thick sheen of oil that only seemed to suffocate.
This absence had been comforting, once. No worries, no anxiety, no noise, just Kale and Ash in a world of their own, lost in thought and emotion.
Everything was gone, now.
Had been gone for a long time, now.
He should really be fine, now.
So why does it still hurt so much when he thinks about Ash?
The feelings that never reached the other, the syllables of words left unspoken, the gap between the two which had slowly gotten wider and wider, until here Kale stood at its edge, unable to see to the other side.
What was the use of regretting when nothing could be changed?
Nothing, because there was nothing, and there was nothing Kale could do but regret.
The room closes slowly in around him, but the feeling of walls around him isn't enough.
A void had opened in his chest, too large for his heart to fit, amongst the debris of caved-in lungs, crushed souls, and blood-red tears.
He had always liked the color red, anyways.
