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Every day, a good while after school lets out for the afternoon, Ichika visits Saki in the hospital.
Saki waits and waits every time for the fifteen to thirty minutes that Ichika drops by, usually just to check on the flowers she brings on the windowsill and talk a little bit about the days she's been having in school. It's so short, mind-numbingly short, and Saki craves these minutes anyway. In Ichika's absence, the blonde girl takes every test and all the examinations in stride because if everything goes well, if she's able to recover, then there's the chance... she'll be able to see everyone again; they'll hug Saki and say they missed her, but it's okay because she's here now, and it'll be alright because everything is back to normal...
During the daily visits, Ichika tells Saki about how Shiho and Honami would love to be here, by Saki's side—but, alas, the hospital is much too far for them to visit often, yet you have me, right, Saki? Saki takes the news in relatively well (it's not that they don't want to visit, they just can't, and it's not like Saki dwells too much on the gaping hole Hona and Shih' would've filled, but there's times where—) even though she prods a little bit on some days where she's particularly lonely. What are they doing, exactly? How is it going? She notes the way Ichika rubs the cuticle of her nail (Ichika's 'tell'; Saki can always tell when she's fibbing her words) and looks away softly before saying in simple words: Honami, Shiho, they're doing quite well—we're not in the same class, so I don't know much... yes, I still keep in touch. Saki has to just smile back and laugh, Hona and Shih' are living it up, I bet! It's easier than figuring out why Ichika's lying.
(But, it's fine, because at least Icchan visits, y'know. She brings daffodils and peonies and speaks in that musical cadence of hers and holds your hand and tells you that you're not missing out on much. Isn't that enough? Is big brother, Mom and Dad, and Ichi not enough for you? Why do you always have to want more?)
(Why does it always have to be me?)
Saki knows exactly how the end of Ichika's visits go. It's the same thing every time, because, most of the time, Ichika's predictable like that. Engraved in the back of her eyelids—taunting her when she tries to sleep—is the familiar vision of Ichika lingering for a second longer, then standing almost abruptly. Like she has to force herself to leave, too. Silky strands of hair pool around her shoulders as she bows her head slightly in the small smile she gives Saki. And, last of all, Ichika raises her hand in a bitter goodbye—those hands that Saki remembers so well, that she could tell even with a blindfold on. Because there is no experience quite like the blooming feeling in Saki's heart when entangling her best friend's fingers with her own whilst doing something as mundane as crossing the sidewalk. Even if hurts her so, Saki doesn't think remembering the print of Ichika's palms against her own could ever be a curse rather than a blessing.
One night drags on longer than the rest. Saki leans her head against the cold windowpane, placing her fingers underneath the gap where the window's slightly ajar. She feels the night air flowing in. Somehow, it's the same air Ichika breathes in. She resides under the same sky that Ichika, Honami, and Shiho all gaze upon, by some force of nature. The sky bares no trace of any meteors, yet Saki recalls a time where Leonid stars rained down in that park, so many years ago. It was so much better then. Playing Miku songs until the last dregs of sunlight escaped the band room, laughing because Shiho, you look so serious—we're just playing for fun! Stealing licks of ice cream, obsessing over Phenny plushies in the window of shops, attempting to bake apple pies the way Hona does it so well...
Then, a ding! from her phone, lying still on the bed, breaks her out of her impromptu reveries. One unread message from Icchan, with a blue heart next to the name. Sent just now.
Saki reads the message out loud softly, voice pausing as her eyes skim over the words: "big news to tell you!" Ah, another one of Ichika's stories. The blonde smiles, holding the phone to her chest. She always cherishes whenever her friends send her a message. It's akin to being acknowledged, and Saki never wants to be forgotten.
The night passes by without any further hitches. The morning comes and goes just as silently as the night: the only conversation Saki has is between one of the nurses that checks up on her, and even that is brief. Today is just another day of mindless waiting—waiting, for results from the doctor, for another exam, for one of Ichika's texts, for a visit, for the day she'll finally be back amongst her peers where she rightfully belongs. But, then again, there is a break in the monotony. Ichika's "big news". Saki can only grasp onto this rope like a desperate man with no other option. Her only respite of waiting.
The door opens eventually, and it reveals a comforting mop of blue-black hair and teal eyes. Ichika, who beams at Saki and rushes to her bedside, joy emanating from her exterior. Saki recalls some of her classmates talking about how Hoshino has that aloof demeanor—I can never seem to approach her, because she just looks so distant. Yet, she thinks that's the farthest theory from the truth. Ichika smiles so easily and she's so close. Saki's the closest with her, now, than anyone else. How could that ever be distant? Aloof and Ichika in the same breath... is a blatant disrespect to Ichika's character.
"Ichi! Tell me all about what you're dying to say!" Saki chirps, placing both hands upon Ichika's.
"Oh, yeah! What I wanted to say... so, tomorrow's the school trip! I'm really excited for it, because it's three days of camping somewhere in the countryside, and..." Ichika keeps talking, but Saki can't help herself from zoning out. The words school trip and three days in the countryside ring in her ears.
Something shrivels in her chest. A pang, then another, and Saki feels like she's wilting in real time. Trace amounts of jealousy, hurt, and loneliness swell up until they almost suffocate her. She can't stop Ichika from going just because she has to stay at the hospital. It's not Ichika's fault that Saki's unwell, that her own body won't cooperate with her enough so that she could do normal teenage things, like partake in the school trip. Saki's the only one at fault here: maybe it would've been been better if she didn't care so much. Maybe this could've all been avoided if Saki just got better. But she's not, she's not getting any better—and now Ichika's leaving her—and, no, it's not for good, but three days without her only source of solace is enough to start spirals in her stomach. Honami and Shiho visit about once a month, and the other Tenmas visit yet it's only for such a short while, and now... What is Saki supposed to do? She wants to be there. She wants to be on the trip so bad, it feels like her heart and her conscious is ripping her body apart. But she can't.
Just don't cry, just don't cry—because this isn't something to cry about anyway, not now, at least—...
She blinks and suddenly a fat droplet of water's running down her cheek, absorbed by the cotton of her pajamas. And then another droplet, and then another fall and meet the same fate as the first tear. It gets overwhelming fast. Her eyes are too hot and Ichika's worried expression is too much and Saki's bringing this all on herself, isn't she, because it's her problem and now she's gone and made it Ichika's, too—then, a hand is carding through one of her twin-tails, gently enough that Saki's heart stops racing for a second. It's enough to calm Saki down, however.
"—Saki, are you alright? I'm sorry, was that too much?" Ichika says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Don't be worried about me, Ichi! That was nothing, heh, you can ignore it, is what Saki means to say. But, instead what comes out is: "Don't go." It's horribly shaky and Saki's voice cracks. Her face crumples as soon as she says it. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that..." she remedies quickly, yet the effects of the words settle in faster.
"I..." Ichika stumbles over her words, clearly conflicted. Saki doesn't want her to go, she really doesn't, but she isn't that selfish. Ichika has to go, even if it's just for the reason that Saki could see the pictures. "I'm not going anywhere, Saki. The trip's tomorrow, but I can stay here until the hospital kicks me out, if you want..." Ichika says it with an utmost sincerity that almost makes Saki start crying again.
"...You'd really stay?"
"Yeah." Ichika places her hands flush against Saki's face, wiping away the remnants of her tears with a slow, steady motions. Their foreheads brush together, and then they just stay like that, with Saki's head in Ichika's hands. Teal eyes focus onto pink, and as they hold each other's gaze, more words are said there than spoken aloud. "I'm going to stay."
"I've missed you, Ichi... I'm glad to have you now, then." Saki smiles, her teeth glinting in the shadow cast by Ichika.
A silent understanding dawns upon the two of them. Neither Saki nor Ichika really 'initiate' the kiss, but it happens anyway. For what feels like hours, Saki and Ichika interlock their lips—barely moving, as if taking back all the time Saki's been stuck here, immovable. Ichika's bangs graze Saki's face and so Saki sweeps them away, caressing Ichika's face in the same motion. Memories flood in like sweet reminders that yes, this is entirely right. Ichika rushing into class raving about this VIRTUAL SINGER named Hatsune Miku; the four of them looking at a guitar together, completely starstruck; nights spent calling each other, giggling on the line about music and school and friends. This was all the beginning, the leading up to this most perfect moment. Maybe the loneliness that Saki had to endure—day on and day out—was just an interlude for Ichika Hoshino, her best friend, kissing her.
Ichika pulls back, and then leans in again, and they dance around each other like that for a few more heavenly moments. Ichika looks much more alluring than usual, and Saki's simply watching. Saki thinks that, with how much she reminisces over their time in elementary, she could make this moment last the entire three days that Ichika will be gone. Because, as long as they share the same breaths and look upon the same starry sky—like they had, on that day so many years ago—Ichika won't ever truly be gone. Ichika, Honami, and Shiho; Saki remembers their hands and their touch even better than she knows her own. Just as she had barely a night ago, Saki can place her fingertips underneath the crack of the window and remember Ichika's taste. Honami's hair, and Shiho's eyes.
Maybe there's a possibility that the endless waiting Saki has to endure... isn't so meaningless after all.
Saki pulls back this time, hands entangled in Ichika's hair. It tangles so easily, even though it's so smooth, Ichika had said once, and that holds true even today. They hug for a little while, Ichika's nose tickling Saki's nape. Muffled by her head being in Ichika's sweater, Saki mumbles, "Promise me you'll go on the trip and show me pictures of all the cool things you'll have done in the countryside, Ichi,"
"Promise. But, I'm not that good at taking pictures, so don't expect much." Ichika laughs into Saki. It's a silly, strange sound, with Ichika being so close to her ear. Saki decides she likes it—likes Ichika's smell and the feeling of her body against her own. It's just natural.
Ichika does go after a little while. The truth is, Saki wants to say it out loud: "don't go." Yet, maybe there's some merit in letting go. After all, Saki knows that Ichika will come back. Because, well, she's Ichika. The practice of saying goodbye is the same as always—Ichika takes a second to soak the image of Saki in, just a second, then she stands up far too quickly. She bows her head, strands of hair escaping from behind her to fall down her shoulders in a cascade. Then, she waves bye, a soft smile on her face, the ones that are very loved by Saki. The blonde starts to feel her eyes tear up a little bit, because even if it's just for three days—Ichika's leaving.
Don't cry, just don't cry—
—because before Ichika leaves for good, she runs over and presses a chaste kiss to Saki's lips once more. "Bye, Saki. I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too, Ichika! Bye!" Saki shouts out as Ichika fades out of sight, far, far away, leaving her behind. Completely.
Once again, the night blurs itself out. Saki leans her head back against her pillow, the adrenaline of the moment dissipating almost as quickly as it came. She presses her cheek to the window again, watching the sight outside. It's become somewhat dark, with street lamps shining outside, but Saki sees them as if they were shining on her. The lamps cast a shadow; Saki is all alone. But, Saki smiles, because she can still remember the chapstick Ichika wore. It tastes like... mint.
Saki guesses she's okay on her own. Even if the last train departs, Ichika will come back on the morning train tomorrow. And so, she continues to stare at the vast expanse of sky, thumbing her fingers where Ichika had been, just a few minutes ago.