The memory of you - (x Chishiya)

32

In a deathly situation like a game in the Borderlands, is it in any way valid to feel this way over a white jacket? Probably not.

I'm so fucked.

Oh, well.

Then I realized something was off. Not in a rigid, I'm-going-to-die-now way, just in an oh way.

I was alone.

But I remember Chishiya saying he'd wake me up, right? And he left. To go where? To do what?

Sighing, my eyes wandered to the door. No one in sight.

He said he wouldn't leave again. He said he'd stay. So I should trust that, right? Should I look for him? But if he's going to come back that'll only confuse him.

Tapping my legs on the floor, I waited. Obsessively looking at the door but, nonetheless, I waited. I'd stare at the door, hallucinate footsteps nearing, the anticipation of his return growing and then when I realized I was making it up I looked away, as if I didn't care at all to begin with.

But I do.

My patience was slowly running low and the thought of going after him kept increasing by each second that passed by. My feet were itching to leave this room. The walls suddenly felt all the more suffocating, the chair increasingly intimidating.

However, I knew he thought I was asleep and would come get me. Like a feeling in my gut I knew he wouldn't leave me here.

And then, after a certain time when I heard actual footsteps I wasn't sure if I was making it up or not.

Surely, it was him.

It was his body walking through the door frame, it was his body looking at me with those brown eyes, bigger than ever and it was him bending down to put the abundance of food he brought with him.

The suffocating walls suddenly lightened and the chair got back to its original state. They were less than irrelevant now, my eyes only willingly seeing him.

My heart fell to my stomach, I heard the beat of my pulse sync with every one of his actions. How he carefully opened the pack of some caramel flavored cookies and put his arm up to the empty chair beside me to put them down.

How he looked up, his eyes finally reaching mine.

He looked like he was looking for the words to say something, scratching the back of his neck.

"You're awake." His question was something I'd assume he'd ask because he was nervous. But he looked so composed, and, well collected. I couldn't exactly assume if he had thought of the question just now, calculated it three weeks back, or didn't care for either.

So, I couldn't help but crack up. He was bending down in front of me, picking up the waffles he had brought with him and showing it off with his one hand as if he were proposing to me with waffles.

"How much time do we have?" I asked him, wiping away a tear from the corner of my left eye with my hand.

At this point, I was smiling, looking down at him. But he seemed confused.