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I wake up with a sigh, half expecting you to be laying there next to me.
You aren't.
You haven't, not for such a long time. It's been so long since I've woken up and seen you sleeping peacefully next to me. It's been so long since I've seen you at all.
I want to know where you are.
Why did you leave?
I don't know what happened. We were so happy, you and I. We got legally married in Hawaii, and we invited so many people, and I smeared cake all over your face.
And on our first anniversary, I woke up early, hoping to surprise you with something special. You were awake too, though, hoping for the same thing. We laughed it off, remember? And we spent the day in each other's arms.
I remember how you used to talk about everything you loved and hoped for while we laid under the stars. I remember how you would flush when you realized I was paying more attention to the way you smiled than what you were actually saying.
Do you?
I remember our first fight as a married couple. There was so much yelling, and we both went off to hide somewhere. I found you an hour later, skating with tears in your eyes. I remember forgetting about why we were fighting in the first place.
You told me you still had so many fears, so many doubts.
You told me you didn't deserve me.
I told you not to decide what you deserved or not.
Remember?
I took you to my hometown, and introduced you to my parents. They loved you more than me, I suspect. They probably still do.
I remember Makkachin always snuggling up to you on your side of the bed instead of mine. I never minded, though. I wouldn't mind now, either.
On your birthday, we went out for drinks with a bunch of our friends. Everyone got wasted except for us, because for some reason we could both hold our drinks very well.
On our second anniversary, we went to Paris. Neither of us could pronounce anything very well, but it didn't really matter. We were in our own little world.
I was so in love with you. I still am. Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said? I would do anything to make it up to you.
I would do anything to see you again.
I've been staring at the pictures we took together for so long.
Too long.
I loved your smile so much. I still do.
I spend so much of my time just thinking about you.
On our third anniversary, we made a cake together. It was a mess. It still tasted good, though.
Do you know how desperate I am now?
I'd love to hear your voice again.
I'd love to see you again.
I've been half-dead ever since you left. I'm existing, but I'm not living.
I still visit your parents every year. They never knew what happened to you, either. They were just as scared, confused, startled as I was.
They still are.
On our fourth anniversary, we just talked to each other.
We told each other everything we knew about ourselves. We talked about us, and our deepest fears, and the universe.
Sometimes I think about you and I feel like my heart will explode.
I think it was sometime after that you started acting strangely.
You were constantly stressed and tired. I assumed it was like a life crisis. I didn't want to stress you out even more.
On our fifth anniversary, I was going to take you to the place we first met. We were going to skate together, just like we usually do.
On our fifth anniversary, I woke up and you weren't there.
I should have been suspicious right then and there, but I assumed it was our first anniversary all over again.
You left all your stuff at home. I still have everything the way it was when you disappeared.
I thought I'd find you somewhere at home.
You weren't there.
I called you, and you never replied. I texted. I searched.
There was nothing.
I was so upset.
I still am.
I found the key to a box of memories you kept.
There was a note there.
I love you.
But if you loved me, if you love me, why did you go?
I was planning our life together. We were going to adopt children, because I know you love them. We were going to renew our vows and move to a nice house somewhere in a remote place.
I was going to take my last breath with your hand in mine.
Where did you go?
I'm at the home of Yuri Plisetsky now.
I guess I should have gone to him first. I was so heartbroken that I completely forgot.
He was like your brother. He was like a part of you.
I guess I should have known.
I guess I should have suspected that he was good at keeping promises and secrets.
I guess I should have known you would tell him.
He opens the door for me, knowing already what I'm here for.
There are tears in his eyes.
He tells me, and I feel like my entire being has been crushed.
I can't believe what I'm hearing.
My breath has been taken from me. I feel like someone is flattening me so I can't breathe.
Why didn't you tell me?
I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure if I should cry, or scream, or sit silently in shock like I've been already been doing.
I should have known.
A brain tumor, Yuri tells me.
Stress, and anxiety, and depression. Overworking yourself. I guess you were having a crisis.
I guess I should have asked you about it.
You left home so you could spend your last days in the hospital.
I guess it's just like you to think it's selfish to tell everyone. You've never liked for anyone to be in pain.
You've always ignored it when you yourself were in pain.
You told only Yuri. I should be mad. I should be jealous, or hurt, or in pain.
I should have expected it.
Yuri has always prided himself on being the one who knows you best. You told him first, that you felt like you were stressed lately. He told you to go the doctor. He called you after to ask about the results.
He was the first, the last, and the only person who heard the tears in your voice as you cried into your phone.
I guess I should have suspected when he suddenly got you plane tickets to visit him.
I guess this is all my fault.
I guess it usually is.
I've been existing. I've been performing normal human functions. Sometimes, Yuri calls me and tells me things I didn't know about you.
Sometimes, they make me smile.
Sometimes, they make me cry.
I wish I could move on, but I can't.
I'm sorry.
I love you.