Work Text:
You had a lot of hopes for Satoru.
Your biggest one was that he wouldn’t shut himself in.
You’d always known he had that tendency.
It was never physical though.
Satoru was never the type to lock himself in his room and wallow for indefinite amounts of time until he was somewhat okay.
No, never.
He did so mentally.
He’d still go out, live his life like usual.
Like normal.
But he’d pull his emotions in, hide his feelings, and cope internally until he was ready.
It took you far too long to be able to read when he wasn’t okay.
To take his face in your hands and pull him close and tell him you were there to catch whatever thought he wanted to drop.
That you were there to loosen the weight he hated for anyone else to carry.
But you weren’t there anymore.
Were you?
No.
You weren’t.
That’s the first thing you were sorry for.
You were rushing that day.
Had to get to work early for a big event your boss had been hounding you for. You quickly got Satoru out of bed, ready for his day alongside yours and made breakfast even quicker.
You forgot your coffee.
And you left your favorite coat at home.
But none of that mattered when your heart was on its last leg.
When your lungs suddenly couldn’t find the effort to take in enough air.
When your head pounded in your skull, begging for respite.
None of that mattered when you were dead.
Because you were dead.
Doesn’t matter how many times you say it.
How many times you watched your parents cry over you in the hospital room or how many times your friends begged you to wake up.
You were gone.
A goner.
Satoru knew that.
You knew he knew that.
You wished you didn’t know that you knew he knew that.
You wished you could wake up at his side in the morning. Enjoy the early droplets of sunlight peeking through your curtains.
You used to tell him the sun shined just for him.
Just for you , you’d say.
He’d tell you he didn’t want the sun all to himself; that he wanted to share everything with you.
Everything in his heart, mind, body and soul.
Everything beneath the plush of his skin, within the marrow of his bones, pumping between the tissue of his heart.
He wanted to share his very life with you.
Maybe that’s another thing you were sorry for.
Sorry that you spent so much time at his side, bleeding your souls into each other until the line between was indistinguishable.
Sorry that you’d given him so much of your very being to hold and to care and to love for with the promise of forever.
Sorry that you couldn’t let go of the piece of him he offered to you all those years ago when he was vulnerable enough to allow someone else in.
You were sorry that you loved him and he loved you because.
Because that love.
Made it harder.
Harder for him to forget the feeling of your skin against him.
Harder for him to ignore the scent of you still on his clothes.
Harder for him to pretend like he could let you go.
You made it hard for him.
Unintentionally, of course, but just because you didn’t plan to die didn’t make it any easier when you actually did.
It wasn’t your fault.
You didn’t run your car into that light pole.
You didn’t smash the metal side into your body.
You didn’t lodge that frame between the bones of your neck.
It wasn’t your fault.
How could it be?
You were innocent.
Innocently living an innocent life.
An innocent life with Satoru.
It wasn’t your fault.
You hoped Satoru knew that as much as you did.
You also hoped he could get some help.
You hoped he’d be willing to get some help, if you were being specific.
Satoru wasn’t big on asking other people for it.
He was convinced that he could handle everything on his own.
But you knew the truth.
That he can’t.
He can’t heal the cracks of his soul if his tears are too blinding to find the glue.
Where would he look?
He can’t be objective.
Not from his position.
He stood too close to the source, too close to you.
It wouldn’t be easy for him to see what was wrong.
To see it and admit it and be willing to fix it.
That’s why you hoped he’d reach out to your friend group.
You hoped he’d tell at least one person about the inner turmoil keeping him from moving forward with life.
At least one.
You hoped he communicated with your parents still.
He was just as much their son as you were their child.
Your mom always approved of Satoru.
She loved the way he treated you. The way he’d dote on you with such a deep, profound love.
You swear she was envious sometimes, lightly, of course.
Your father admired his strength.
The way he carried himself like a young gentleman. How he was always willing to protect you from whatever he deemed unsafe.
Your parents loved him.
You loved him.
You still do.
And you know he does too.
You know he’d never stop.
But it hurts you to see him spiraling.
He’d moved apartments and he was still losing himself.
Still spending his evenings laying on the couch staring up at the ceiling with the lights off and the curtains shut. Still spending his mornings haphazardly shuffling through the house without a light behind his pretty blue eyes. Still living life on one long breath, waiting for the moment to exhale.
Waiting for you to walk through that door and tell him about your day and how work was and what you ate for lunch and what joke your coworkers told you.
He was waiting for you.
Just you.
Didn’t matter how.
He wanted you.
It’d been months and Satoru was losing himself in the space you left behind.
The space you didn’t mean to leave in the first place.
How could you tell him that?
Tell him that you were sorry for leaving such a large gap in his life.
He didn’t even know how to fill it without you!
What was he supposed to do?
You wanted so bad to give him the answers.
To tell him you knew exactly what was wrong and you knew exactly how to fix it.
But how can you fix something broken if the broken something is you?
How can you be there to wipe away his tears when you were the cause of them?
How could you do anything for him when you couldn’t even do something for yourself?
You found the answers over the next few years.
He started seeing a therapist.
Once a week, four times a month, fifty-two times a year.
He spent three hours every week in an office with a woman who listened to his silence with the concentration of a blind man threading a needle.
Three hours of thinking about you, talking about you, crying over you.
As if he didn’t spend the other one-hundred-sixty-five hours of his week doing that very thing.
But it seemed to help.
Hearing a voice that wasn’t his own seemed to help.
He started getting rid of your stuff.
It was a little sad to see your paperclips and hoodies go but it was for the best.
Satoru was in the process of healing.
That was for the best.
You had no room to be sad anymore.
You lost the capacity for it when you lost the capacity for life.
When you became so mangled in that driver’s seat; that’s when your body lost the ability to contain the essence of your life.
But Satoru wasn’t like you.
He was alive.
You were dead.
That’s the difference.
He could go out and see his friends, enjoy dinner with his coworkers, celebrate holidays with his family.
No. No, Satoru wasn’t like you.
And you’d never want him to be.
You wanted him to live; you hoped he would live.
You hoped he would grow to love life and everything it had to offer.
You didn’t want him to resent it for no longer having you.
That wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair to the other people who knew his name and said it with such care. The kind of care you can put your trust in.
Trust that these people will continue to love your Satoru even when you can’t be there to do it yourself.
Trust that these people will keep his smile glowing for years and years to come even though you won’t be there to see it.
Trust that these people will hold his heart in their hands and be as delicate with it as you were the day he gave it to you.
Trust that life will not fail your Satoru as it did you.
Hope that he knows he’s not alone forever.
Hope that he continues to see the beauty in the sunlight and doesn’t shun it for shining despite your absence.
Hope that your Satoru doesn’t limit his possibilities for greatness purely out of spite that you can’t appreciate it.
Because you do.
You appreciate everything he does.
You appreciate that he’s trying, he’s trying to be better. Not for you but for himself.
For the people who still get to see him every day.
You appreciate that he’s not holding onto a hope that you’ll come back, that he knows you won’t and moves forward despite it.
You appreciate that he hasn’t forgotten the love you held for him–continue to hold for him.
You appreciate it all and you're sorry that you never got the chance to tell him.
Tell him you love him over and over and over.
Tell him you were happy you met him that day.
That you liked when he kissed you and hugged you and told you you were the one for him.
When he told you his greatest fears and doubts and trusted you to keep them safe.
He trusted you to keep him safe.
You’re sorry you didn’t.
You tried to.
Tried to keep him from the pain of the world.
Tried to make sure that no matter what happened during his day, he always had a home to come back to.
You were the home you made sure he came back to.
And he did.
Every fucking day.
Everyday.
He came home and saw you there, smiling bright, ready to take him into your chest and hide him beneath your ribcage until he had to leave again.
Content to keep him warm with the embers of your soul.
He came home to love and life and warmth.
He came home to forever.
You were his forever.
And then.
And then you weren’t.
And maybe.
Maybe that’s okay.
Maybe you weren’t meant to be his forever.
Maybe you were meant to be his now until now became then.
And that’s okay.
That’s okay.
You’d loved him for nearly seven years.
And even though it wasn’t nearly enough for either of you.
It still managed to be enough for both of you.
Enough for you to be okay with saying goodbye.
It was enough for you to be okay with watching your Satoru move forward on the line of life.
Enough for you to realize you couldn’t move with him.
The love you shared was just enough.
It wasn’t too much.
And it wasn’t too little.
It wasn’t too short or too quick.
It was what you needed at the time.
It was what Satoru needed at the time.
He needed you and you needed him and you needed each other.
But now.
He didn’t need you anymore.
He’d always love you, don’t confuse the two.
But your Satoru could make his ramen without adding too much salt now.
He could wake up on time for work and be out the door in a timely manner.
He could visit his friends regularly and manage his social circle well.
He could drive in a car without having panic attacks.
See a hospital without getting a sadness spike.
He could smile again.
And even though it wasn’t because of you.
You still loved to see it all the same.
He would be okay.
You had a lot of hopes for Satoru.
Your biggest one was that he would continue to shine for everyone.
You’d always known he had that tendency.
p.s. Remember, it’s a teaspoon, not a tablespoon. And don’t forget to butter the pan before the ingredients. And make sure to save some for lunch tomorrow. Good luck, baby.