Written in memory of Chris Cornell. Say hello to heaven.
1964-2017
A mug of bland black coffee sat on the wooden table, basking in the last few rays the setting sun was seeping through the window. It was beginning to turn cold after half an hour of sitting untouched in the cool air of the kitchen. A soft, out of tune hum bounced off the apartment room walls. It was the same old nostalgic one that had been sang for years every single evening in the exact same dull tone, never changing in enthusiasm or volume.
Humming the song was as natural as breathing to Saitama after doing it for so long. It wasn't uncommon for him to close his eyes and go back to the very moment he had first heard the song.
It was a cold night in early January. It had snowed a lot that morning, but there was only a little of it left now. Barely enough to cover the grass in a thin layer of freezing white. The sky was clear of clouds and scattered with thousands of stars so bright that they almost made Saitama's head shine. The moonlight reflected off of Genos's metal body, and Saitama thought to himself that it looked pretty cool. A gust of wind blew, and it made the cyborg's artificial hair fly lightly. He didn't seem cold at all, which was something Saitama envied as he froze in nothing but a thin hoodie, jeans, and tennis shoes.
The two sat on the roof of an abandoned shed, away from the city but still not quite in the country. It was a silent night as they both laid back and gazed up at the shining stars above. Despite the cold, Saitama found himself lost in the sky above. He wondered what it was like to be thousands of years away from everyone on the earth, but settled on the idea that it would be like the way he was living before he met Genos. Lonely and boring.
"Look at that," Saitama said, breaking the comfortable silence that had built between him and his friend. He pointed at a cluster of stars far off in the sky.
"I think that's the, uh, Big Dipper or something," he told his partner.
"No, sensei, that's the Little Dipper. The Big Dipper is right there." Genos pointed out an even bigger group of stars that did kind of look like a larger version of what the other man had shown him.
"Oh," Saitama said. They both fell silent again, even though Genos had the strong urge to speak what had been on his mind for the past few months. Another cold breeze blew, turning Saitama's red nose and cheeks even redder. He ignored the biting chill for the meantime and treasured the peace he was feeling. Little did he know, it would be the last time he would feel at peace for a very long time.
Genos sang a song under his breath, one that Saitama didn't recognize.
"What are you singing?" he asked Genos, who's voice gradually grew inaudible.
"It's a song my mom used to play in the car a lot on the way home from baseball practice. She was raised in America, so she listened to a lot of music from her home country." He had a slightly pained expression, but Saitama was too busy watching the stars to notice.
