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I don’t know if anyone will ever read this.
But every 9th of the month, I come back here. To this blank page on Shrib. To talk to you.
You don’t know this. You probably never will.
It’s been… I don’t even count in years anymore. Just months. Ninety-eight months since March 9.
That was the day you said we were done. I remember the taste of my strawberry milkshake turning bitter in my mouth as you told me you didn’t see “us” working anymore. You didn’t finish your coffee either black, two sugars, like always. The cup sat there between us, steam curling into the cold air, and I stared at it because it was easier than staring at you.
We broke up in silence after that.
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April 9
I saw strawberry milk in the convenience store today. I bought it without thinking. But drinking it now just tastes… wrong. I used to shove it in your face until you’d take a sip and pretend to gag. Then you’d steal my straw just to annoy me.
Now there’s no black coffee across the table, no smirk. Just me.
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May 9
I heard a laugh today in the park. It wasn’t yours, but for half a second my heart jumped like an idiot. I turned so fast I almost tripped. And then reality sank in, heavy and cruel. You weren’t there. You’re never there.
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June 9
Do you still play baseball? Do you still warm up with that lazy jog and pretend you’re not watching everyone else? I still play sometimes. Not in a team anymore. Just throwing with whoever’s around. It’s not the same without you behind the plate. It never will be.
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July 9
I saw a couple today at the train station. He was holding a strawberry frappé, and she was drinking black coffee. For some reason I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
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August 9
I can’t remember your voice as clearly anymore. Isn’t that awful? It’s slipping away, like smoke through my fingers. I keep replaying old videos on my phone, but it’s not the same. I’m scared that one day I’ll forget completely.
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September 9
Someone asked me today why I never date seriously anymore. I just shrugged. I didn’t tell them that no matter who I’m with, I’m always looking for you. In the way they hold their cup. In the way they glance over when they laugh. In the way they stand in the rain. Nobody’s you.
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October 9
Do you ever think about me? Just once? Maybe when you pass by a café that smells like ours. Or when you hear that stupid commercial jingle I used to sing out loud to annoy you. Do you remember me at all?
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November 9
I went to our ramen shop tonight. Sat in our booth. Ordered what we used to order. The broth was still rich, the noodles still perfect. But I couldn’t taste it. My chest just hurt. I almost typed your name into my phone, but my fingers froze. What would I even say? “Hey. I’m still in love with you. Please ruin me again.”
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December 9
Happy… nothing. I don’t even know why I’m writing this. It’s not like you’ll read it. It’s not like it’ll change anything. But it’s become a habit now. Like breathing. Like missing you.
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January 9
Snow today. I made two cups of hot drinks-- one strawberry milk, one black coffee and set them on the table like an idiot. I just sat there watching the steam fade from the coffee. I couldn’t even bring myself to drink it.
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February 9
Almost a year of these notes now. I wonder where you are. I wonder if you’re happy. I wonder if you’re holding someone else’s hand. Maybe you are. Maybe you’ve moved on completely. Maybe you’ve found someone who fits you better.
If so… I hope they know how lucky they are.
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March 9 -- Anniversary
I found out today.
You’re married.
I wasn’t looking. I swear I wasn’t looking. I was just scrolling, and your face popped up. You looked… older. Softer around the edges. There was someone next to you, smiling, their hand in yours. And a caption: Two years married today.
Two years. While I’ve been here, writing to you on some anonymous website every month, you’ve been living a whole life without me.
I don’t know why I’m crying. I should have expected this. I should be happy for you. I should… I should let you go.
But I can’t. I can’t.
This is my last note, Kazuya.
Not because I’ve stopped loving you. I never will. But because writing to you like this makes it harder to breathe now.
If you ever find these by some miracle or cruel twist. I want you to know:
I loved you every single day since March 9.
Even after you left.
Even after you belonged to someone else.
Goodbye.
—Eijun
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Eijun closed the tab without bookmarking it, the way he always did. The words would stay there for a while before Shrib erased them, swallowed them into nothing.
Just like him.
Just like them.