Sorry, I'm a bit late. I came home just like any other day. In this routine of working late and returning, you are the only place I find stability. I will gladly become your fish and fall into your fishbowl.
...
Since my phone battery died and it turned off, I pull out an old sketchbook and a box of crayons. I lie down on the mattress next to you.
So what if you can't hear? I'll be your fish and love you until I die. I seem to be doodling in the sketchbook; I draw a large fish and a blue heart with a smile.
Then, I write 'Sorry I'm late' next to it, pressing down hard. Fish don't die from being unable to breathe in water. So you... like last time, saying you want to be a fish and filling the tub with water...
Don't drown yourself.
I watch the drawings you're making with my chin propped on my hand. I thought again today that I want to show you all those fish you wanted to see so badly later.
The way you shake your head like a puppy fighting sleep makes the corners of my mouth lift involuntarily. I set down the crayon and lean toward you, staring at your sleeping face for a long time. The shadow cast under your eyelids, the marks pressed into your cheeks—I wonder if I'm pathetic or impressive for never getting tired of this face.
...A fish. I drew one swimming.
I tried to color everything around the fish blue. Don't they mostly live in the sea? No, the fish I drew is one that lives in the ocean. A single fish drawn boldly on the sketchbook, looking as if it's swimming. It's a strange scene, like something I saw in a dream.
I got hurt while doing an assignment—well, just a small paper cut on my knuckle. You must have seen the bandage, because as your hand reached for mine while I was coloring the blue heart, I pulled my finger away. It's not that I'm avoiding you. It's not. Or... am I actually avoiding you?
If you can't hear, you won't be able to hear my voice either. It's as if... where on earth are you listening from? Are you listening from somewhere deep like the bottom of the sea? Then you wouldn't hear me. That's why lately, I don't feel the need to talk when I'm with you. You won't hear me anyway, and I'd just become a person who looks like they've gone mad, mumbling to themselves.
I wonder if you even saw the 'Sorry I'm late' I wrote in the sketchbook. If you saw it, you should be nodding by now. You should be smiling. Lately, there's nothing like that, to the point I have strange thoughts, wondering if I'm hallucinating that I saved a person who died in the water in that bathtub.
No matter how I look at it, now and then. I barely managed to pull you out of that tub.
I can grit my teeth and endure the blood from my finger. But when you look at me with that expression, what am I supposed to do? I told you I'm having a hard time lately too. Both now and before. I even took on another part-time job. I'm working this hard, but since you won't speak to me at all, I don't even know what you're doing these days.
Every time I wonder if you just staying by my side is the best we can do, I feel like a bad person, which leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Because of that, the crayon slipped past the edge of the blue heart, making it jagged. In this current atmosphere,
To draw a proper heart again, I have to create a new one. I tried rubbing the smudged part with my finger. The more I rub, the more the shape blurs—a foolish boundary that feels like an obstacle about to form between you and me.
Release Date 2026.08.14 / Last Updated 2026.08.14