Always, omi

Part6

07/27/20

Dear Atsumu,

I am not sure if I should write about this but if I end up losing my memories the second time, I would want to read this and have it mark my mind again. Memories create depth in a bond, after all, may they be good or bad. I learned that after last night.

Last night, we had a fight. It got so bad that you turned your back on me when you laid down the couch to sleep. When I woke up this morning, you were already gone. I don't know why, but these days I've been extra emotional. Maybe this explains the tears coming out my eyes as I write this letter.

It's my fault. I'm afraid I've become selfish.

All I do is wake up and sleep, it's a cycle that rolls too many times a day, everything else is just consolation. In the moments I'm awake, I always wait for you, distracting myself by writing these silly letters but my hands get tired, eventually, and I end up doing nothing.

To my boredom, I started counting the hours until you arrived. It was exactly 10 hours. Ten hours until you open the door with semi-dragged footsteps and a smile. I planned to stop with the counting because I knew your time was indefinite; you had other things to do. But as the days unfold slower than the last, you were gone for 14 hours. And the day after that too. You no longer forced a smile, you just didn't smile anymore.

So I asked you last night if there was something you're not telling me, but you brushed me off, saying that you're okay and you're just tired from work. I don't think you know that talking to you is my favorite part of the day; it's the one thing that keeps me looking forward to waking up and going through another boring day- to talk to you in the evening until late at night. That's why I made the mistake of snapping at you. I told you I want these new memories gone, too, so I can forget about you again and then I won't have to wait with longing and worry every time you come by later than usual.

I told you that I don't need memories. That they're a burden. That I don't need something that gets to subject me with hurt.

It was rooted from all the negative thoughts I refused to tell you or write on my letters, but I never got to tell you this part. My words echoed in my mind after silence took place in the room. I saw your shoulders drop, your eyes losing rage, turning dull. You didn't say anything anymore. I looked away and cried silently after that. I'm even crying as I'm writing this. If you cried, I had not heard. I felt extra empty that night. Devoid of memories, devoid of something I can't quite name until this morning when I realized it was because you didn't tell me "I love you" and kissed me on the forehead before we went to bed.

I cried earlier, too, when I saw the empty couch. There was no sign of you around the room. The nurse walked in on me wiping my tears away and I asked if she knew where you were. I needed reassurance. I felt like a lost child, abandoned. You were the only one I was holding on to. She must've sensed this.

"To work," the nurse gave me a smile, "Don't worry, Mr. Sakusa. He'll come back later. He always comes back for you."

That statement became my enlightenment. I thanked her as she left. Now, I would have to gather my courage to apologize to you in person. I̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶a̶t̶ ̶l̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ ̶7̶ ̶h̶o̶u̶r̶s̶ ̶u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶c̶o̶

Scratch that.

I'll be waiting for you, Atsumu.

A̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶,̶ ̶

̶O̶m̶i̶