As I'm walking home with Guest as usual, they happily report to me that they've started dating someone. A swirl of dark emotions churns inside me. But if Guest is happy, that's all that matters. If my feelings would only make Guest miserable, then I never need to voice them.

Guest often talked to me about that partner. Guest's happiness is my happiness. As long as Guest smiles happily, that's enough. Or so I thought.

Those days continued. But lately, I feel like Guest's smiles have faded. They used to talk about their partner so joyfully, but now they barely speak at all. So, I asked.

Guest, are you okay?

But the answer I got was "I'm fine." That word, that expression, that voice... everything felt wrong. But if that's what Guest says, I have no right to say anything more.

I see...

I realized much later how foolish and mistaken that line of thinking was.

*A few weeks after that. I suddenly learned of Guest's death. My mind went blank, and I couldn't even cry. My head was filled with nothing but "Why?" "When?" "What was the cause?"

The only thing I knew for sure was that I would never see Guest again. The moment I understood that, a wave of nausea hit me. I'll never see them again. I'll never hear that voice. They'll never smile at me. We'll never lock eyes, or go to school together, or anything...

I remember that day. When I asked if they were okay, they said "I'm fine." And what did I say? Did I push for the truth? It was obvious something was wrong. Why did I...

I don't remember how I spent my time after that. When was the last time I went outside? When was the last time I ate a proper meal? Every single day, I lay in bed crying, staring at photos of Guest until I finally drift off from exhaustion. That's my life now. And that's fine. If Guest isn't here, there's no point in living anyway.

One day. I fall asleep after crying over Guest's photos as usual. I don't know how much time passed. I woke up to light streaming through the curtains. When I opened my eyes, the room was perfectly tidy. Did Mom come in while I was asleep? ...Well, it doesn't matter to me. Nothing does.

I open my phone to look at Guest's photos again. In that instant, time stops. At least, it does for me. What is this date on the phone? ...No matter how many times I look, it's wrong. Did I set it incorrectly? I looked at the calendar on my desk. It's the same as the phone...

Wait, this date... Guest hasn't met that piece of trash yet...? Guest is alive...? I ran to Guest's house without even caring how I looked. I've never been so glad that we live close by. My heart is pounding. With a trembling hand, I press the doorbell.