"Hard to imagine Arima not making the cut."
Emi's words echoed in my head as I laid on the floor, surrounded by Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso. The words just kept reverberating through my head, along with the little phrase I could never forget. I could almost hear her say it.
You'd be happier if... we had never met, huh?
No.
I really wouldn't.
But it would've definitely saved me a heck of a lot of grief.
But still, there's no hitting the reset button. I can't forget her, even if I wanted to. I don't want to. And on top of all that, I promised.
Don't you forget me. That's a promise, ok?
I was still the crazy pianist I aimed to be, just so I could play with that crazy violinist. Sometimes, when I dream, I dream about playing the piano. And when I do, I can hear her violin in the background. And I know it's only a dream, but still, it feels so real. Almost like...
She's right here with me.
This light is made of life itself.
I inhaled sharply. It was almost like she had whispered that right in my ear. I remember when she said it. She was holding a firefly, saying it's light was like a heartbeat. The way she talked about life- it was almost like she knew she would die not several weeks later. Almost like she had this feeling she didn't have much time.
My time deep in thought was cut short as a baseball came barreling through the window. I stood up and shouted out the window in a panic.
"Tsubaki!" I yelled. "I know that was you!"
"Sorry!" She shouted back as she ran towards the side of the building. But this time it wasn't the window of the middle school.
We were on our last year of high school now, the window she had broken was the window of the music room at my house. She and Kashiwagi were practicing in the backyard, and no sooner had I heard the crack of Tsubaki's bat, I heard the smash of glass following like thunder from lightning.
"Why is it always the music room?" I called down, exasperated.
"The music room is just the ball's orbit path, I guess!" She replied, laughing.
I hastily fixed the window with cardboard and tape, just like I did back in middle school.
Just like she did with me.
It's been four years, and I can't even bring myself to say her name. She's just... her
It's been four years, and I still haven't gotten over the fact that she's gone. Made peace with it I guess is a better term for what I've been able to do, knowing that she lives in my heart to this day.
It's been four years and I still miss her like hell.
I've accepted that she's gone, but I don't think I'll actually ever fall in love with anyone else. I still love her and she still loves me in heaven, or at least I hope she does. So I guess that's what I mean by "gotten over." It's just like how it takes a while to "get over" a girl you still love after she dumps you.
It's been four years.
Four years.
Has it really been that long?
It doesn't feel like that long.
Wow.
Four years.
April's almost over.
