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Like the flurry of snowflakes that had once brushed his cheeks, his body was cold. The paper covered with scruffy handwriting rested gently beneath his stiff hand, love pouring out of it, blood spilling over it. It was only at eight o’clock when the library was closing that a passerby realised he wasn’t sleeping.
Ash was dead.
An ambulance had been called but of course, it was too late by then. There was no one to tell. No one by his side as he passed. No one with his body as they took him away. No one to say goodbye.
Max was the first to hear -who of course told Ibe. It was when he had turned on the TV out of boredom, the first thing that came on was the news. Ash’s death had been faked before but this time, he knew it was real. Bones, Kong and Alex found out next. Then Sing and Yut Lung. Then Cain and soon, everyone knew. All except Eiji. Eiji, who had just landed in Japan, his mind infested with thoughts of Ash.
Ash’s voice had played over and over again in Eiji’s mind throughout his flight and although he was aware that there was only a slight chance that Ash would show up, he had hoped he was in the universe where the one in a million would be his reality. But he never showed up, and it hurt. It hurt to not say goodbye. It hurt to not know how he was doing. It hurt to know that they might never meet again. Still, with his first wish shattered, he held onto the rope- no matter how prickly it might have been because if there was hope that he and Ash might see each other again, if Eiji really could protect him from that fate, then he’d hold onto that hope even when it poked and prodded his skin.
However, like the flurry of snowflakes he didn’t get to see, Eiji didn’t get to know about Ash’s cold body. For now he didn’t need to know that. For now he could cling onto that childish optimism and believe that one day, he and Ash would see each other again and whenever that moment would come, Eiji would teach him a phrase other than “sayonara”.