unhappy story | lxxv - lxxviii

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・・・ lxxv ・・・

"Ao? What... happened? Where's Ame?"

Leo had been waiting outside for them.

His eyes looked concerned.

Ao on the other hand, refused to look at his face and pushed him aside.

No. Not now.

Not while I can hurt you.

Not when I might say the wrong words.

"Ao what ha—"

He closed the door before Leo could continue his sentence.


For a moment, Ao stared in front of him.

Inside, the signs of celebration were still there.

The streamers.
The balloons.
The half-eaten cake.

Before, everything had been fine.

Now, it simply felt hollow.

Pointless.

Ao headed upstairs to his bedroom.

On the way, Monica emerged from a corridor.

"Ao? Where's Ame?"

He paused for a moment when he heard her name.

Ame.

It was always about Ame.


Don't you see me too... mom?


He closed his eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

He didn't answer her.

Instead, he ignored what he heard.



・・・ lxxvi ・・・



In his room, he lay on his bed.

Even though he was still drenched,
even though it was too cold,
even though he was likely to get sick,

Ao didn't care anymore.

That night, he stared at the ceiling and cried silently.

It was pathetic.

Lonely, even.

But he didn't care anymore.

It had been a mistake to hope that his father would ever acknowledge him.

It had been a mistake to think that he could ever be happy.

It had been a mistake to think that he could be even forgiven.

He was wrong.

Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.

He remembered Ame's crying face.

He remember his ugly, honest words.


Ao covered his eyes with his arm and cried without making a sound.


All
I
ever
do
is
ruin
everything.




・・・ lxxvii・・・




He was going to apologize.

He was going to make things right again.


Tomorrow, he thought.


Because he couldn't face her now.

Not now.

Not when he could still make things worse.

By tomorrow,
Ame would be smiling once more again.

She would probably just laugh it off and say a joke.

Everything would go back to the way it was before.

Yes.
That's right.

It's all going to be okay.

He closed his eyes.

Outside the window,
the rain sounded distant and muffled.


Nothing would change.


That was what he believed.










But... Ao was wrong.




・・・ lxxviii ・・・




Two years ago on his eighteenth birthday,

Fujiwara Ao broke down and cried for the first time in eleven years.

















On the same night,












Fujiwara Ame committed suicide.

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