vintagebaeby

of rustic bookshelves and spellbinding phrases

[maxknightley]

the thing about chekhov's gun is that the gun does not literally "need to go off by the third act." the story works just as well if someone merely grabs the gun and starts threatening people with it, or if the Jewish protagonist recognizes the particular model as a Politically Concerning piece of world war 2 surplus, or if the gun's owner waxes nostalgic about the last time he fired it, etc. etc. etc.

unfortunately I get the impression that a lot of people do not understand that and therefore build theories around the idea that if the gun is not Specifically taken down from the wall and fired, it serves no purpose to the story, so why the hell was it there in the first place

[auncyen]

The wikipedia article about Chekhov's gun amuses me. I agree with OP's point wholeheartedly, but I was also going "I think Chekhov did specifically say it should be fired though", so I went looking, and:

he said 3 different times that if you have a gun it has to go off??? Different phrasings but same meaning. he apparently loved the gun metaphor.

he also wrote a play with two guns that DON'T go off, which is significant to the play's theme, so basically yes no matter how many times he said to fire the gun it really is more about making sure it serves the play/story somehow.

If he wrote the gun metaphor multiple times I kind of wonder how often he said it. I wonder if people were sick of the gun metaphor.

and yes of course other writers were like "NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO HAVE A PAYOFF. IF EVERYTHING HAS A PAYOFF THEN THE STORY WILL BE PREDICTABLE. WE WILL HAVE OUR INDULGENT DIVERSIONS." (and they are right)

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Melissa Cox

[witchcraftshere]

It's always "I love you" and never "Okay, I don't care that we're different. What I care about is you. I care about you. Okay? And I didn't say it. I should've said it. But I didn't. Because... well, 'cause I am an emotionally insecure source of your discomfot who is not good at expressing his feelings. Probably because I've been on my own my whole life. And it's not an excuse, it's just- it's why instead of telling you that you're the best thing that ever happened to me, I make jokes about your ears and I tell you that you try too hard. When, you know, the truth is, I just don't want you to get hurt because... because no one else in the world matters more to me than you do."

[daily-prompts]

prompt 1581

Start a paragraph with this line:

If it weren’t for the fact that it snowed that night, all our lives would be different.

[kindlykith]

managed to finish my very first short story from this prompt 😭

[ad-wills]

[kindlykith]

After This April Fades Away

Prolog

Kenzo tidak pernah melihat Aileen menangis.

Itu adalah satu hal yang ia sadari selama empat tahun mengenal gadis itu. Bukan karena Kenzo pernah menghindar atau tidak ingin melihat, Aileen hanya tidak pernah menangis. Setidaknya tidak di hadapannya—entah kalau di belakang. Tetapi Kenzo yakin Aileen tidak melakukannya untuk menyembunyikan perasaan sebab yang ia pahami, gadis itu memang bukan tipikal yang mudah menangis. Menonton Miracle in Cell No. 7 pun tidak menangis—gadis itu hanya tiba-tiba menjadi pendiam dan tidak nafsu makan selama dua hari. Kalau ada sesuatu yang sampai membuat air matanya meleleh, berarti hal itu memang sangat personal untuknya, misalnya ketika neneknya pergi. Itu pun semata-mata berdasarkan pengakuan Aileen—Kenzo tidak pernah mendapat bukti konkritnya.

Dan Kenzo pun sesungguhnya memang tidak ingin melihat gadis itu menangis. Apalagi jika sampai menjadi alasan di baliknya. Itu sebabnya tiap kali keduanya menghabiskan waktu bersama, ia akan selalu memastikan bahwa gadis itu tidak sedih. Atau kesal. Atau kecewa. Satu hal yang dulu selalu ia tanyakan pada Aileen tiap mengantar gadis itu pulang adalah are you happy?

Pertanyaan yang kini tiba-tiba menjadi retoris.

Sebab malam ini, genangan air yang tidak pernah Kenzo lihat itu muncul di pelupuk mata Aileen—berkilauan ditempa cahaya lampu lima watt teras laboratorium Teknik Mesin.

Gadis itu sedang berdiri dalam jarak tiga langkah di hadapannya, dalam balutan gaun bunga-bunga biru tua semata kaki dan rambut yang terurai, dilatari kegelapan tempat parkir Fakultas Teknik Mesin. Tangan kanannya memeluk beberapa dokumen berjilid—mungkin laporan—dan di bahu kirinya tersampir tote bag abu-abu yang biasa ia kenakan. Kenzo tidak banyak menatap ke arah gadis itu dan keremangan lampu teras yang berkedip tiap sepuluh detik di atas keduanya juga sesungguhnya tidak memperjelas apa-apa, tetapi rasanya Aileen menguarkan aura yang berbeda.

Meski ada air yang siap terjatuh kapan saja dari sudut matanya, malam ini gadis itu terlihat berkali-kali lipat lebih cantik dari biasanya.

Mungkin ada perubahan pada diri Aileen yang belum ia sadari, mungkin matanya hanya memainkan ilusi sebab sudah cukup lama sejak terakhir kali ia menatap gadis itu dari jarak sedekat ini—Kenzo tidak tahu.

Yang ia tahu, jika salah satu di antara keduanya tidak segera menyingkir dari hadapan masing-masing, ia akan dapat melihat air di mata Aileen itu mengukir sungai di pipinya.

Kenzo tidak ingin menyaksikan pemandangan itu. Maka ia tiba-tiba berjongkok dan melepas simpul tali sepatunya, berpura-pura membetulkan ikatan yang sesungguhnya sama sekali tidak mengganggu. Dalam suara yang nyaris tidak terdengar, laki-laki itu bergumam, "Pulang, Leen. Udah malem."

Keheningan menggantung sejenak di sana. Jenis keheningan yang pekat dan untuk Aileen mungkin penuh pertanyaan—atau ketidaksetujuan—yang tak terucap. Kenzo menyadarinya, tetapi ia tidak ingin mengubah apapun. Laki-laki itu merangkai simpul tali sepatunya pelan-pelan—berharap bisa menghindar dengan ini. Dan sebelum Kenzo akhirnya melihat sepasang sepatu kets putih gadis itu berbalik, ia mendengar suara Aileen yang bergetar mengucapkan, "Fine. Take care, Kenzo."

Bahkan di saat-saat seperti ini pun gadis itu masih peduli padanya. Kenzo mengangkat kepala, menatap punggung kecil yang berjalan menjauh itu.

Ia yakin dapat melihat bahu gadis itu bergetar.

Lalu Kenzo teringat kata-katanya pada Aileen di suatu siang tahun lalu—ketika gadis itu protes merasa diperlakukan seperti anak kecil sebab Kenzo selalu bertanya apakah dirinya senang. Jelasnya kala itu, "Biar aku tau, aku gagal atau enggak.

"Maksudnya?"

"Dari awal, tujuan aku ada di sini buat bikin kamu happy, Leen."

Aileen ber-oh sejenak, lalu dengan senyumannya yang menurut Kenzo layak disanjung dunia itu ia berkata, "There's no need to keep wondering about that, Kenzo. As long as I'm with you, I'm happy."

Angin dingin entah dari mana tiba-tiba menusuk punggungnya.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

What I hate about writing is when I have to write so much before I finally get to the part I actually wanted to write.

[kindlykith]

what would be ours?

To.

You

—who constantly makes me question whether I really know you or not

---

Dear you,

Do you know how much I’m glad you insisted we make an extra effort for that one photobox picture? 

I knew how sleepy you were at that time so I wasn’t in any intention to counteract if ever you want to end the night without having it—the perks of being cashless kids, huh? 

But instead—and honestly to my surprise, you said it’d be a loss for that night’s memories, so we ended up going here and there to find an ATM—which of course had to only issue the cash of 100k, then did some impulsive buying so that we could get our hand on the 50k one—hahaha, what a memory.

I’m glad because I used to think—lots of times—that it would be the only picture we took of us two. Together.

Right, it wasn’t anything near a walk in a park for us to get to where we are today. 

You and I—we—both know that.

Quite well.

We may still be in the stage of being nobody to each other but in these intertwined circles of our lives, I’ve gotten to know the very taste of walking on the glass shreds—which unknowingly, was also the exact reason for the poignant sensation that you used to bear in your silence.

I’m glad we’ve overcome those times.

We learned.

We mended what we could.

And it’s enough.

For now.

And may I wish for our journey to be a long one?

Am I allowed to say that what we went through was only the beginning and we still have a long way to go?

Do we really still have a long way to go?

To be honest, I can’t see where this would lead us to.

What exactly would be ours?

Will we end up fermenting these memories until they become bittersweet in the box of 'It’s been nice to know you, thank you, and goodbye'?

Or—

Would a happy ending story be ours instead?

[kindlykith]

photographs i never know the essence of

Is it possible for someone to reap every sliver of nostalgia that exudes slowly from a photograph they never even know the essence of?

It is the exact question that’s been taking the biggest part of the mystery my brain couldn’t solve just yet. A question that makes me love going around Switzerland through Google Maps and why it is the one country I desperately want to visit.

I’ve never been there before, obviously, but the calming and gloomy and cloudy atmospheres on some part of the country (as captured on Google Maps) reminds me so much to a certain time in the past. 

It could’ve been from the vibes of the pictures in a foreign parenting magazine that I found in my house years ago. This is a very vague memory but I remember the pictures in the magazine includes those photoshoots of kids as models for a clothing line ad with cloudy background.

Or maybe it could’ve started from the way I keep feeling nostalgic whenever I see certain big houses. By certain, I mean those big old houses that looks like they never get taken care of—with their already peeled-off white paint or their moss covered spots here and there. Everytime I see them, I’d desperately want to go inside, to know how is it inside….

It would’ve made sense if only those houses are part of my childhood, isn’t it? If only I lived in a luxury house, or luxury residence, or I ever went inside one. But I didn’t live surrounded by big houses, let alone entering one. The only thing I could remember from my childhood, that I was ever exposed with an abundance of big houses was only by seeing it on the road leading to my dad’s office. If this is it, I kind of understand why—maybe. I’m not really sure but this is the closest I could come up with.

Years ago, when I haven’t stepped on the double digit age but post kindergarten era, I loved going to my dad’s office. His then office used to possess a big (for my 7-8 year old self, it was big) meadow and a gazebo-like building—I’d say it simply as an open hall. So in the hall, there was a bedroom and a kitchen. It was the exact place where the owner of the company lived whenever he’s in town (he was a foreigner so it wasn’t an everyday thing that it was occupied).

I remember I loved the meadow.

I loved the open hall.

So on Sundays, I often asked my dad to bring me there. Somehow, in one part of my memories, I know I once opened a fancy overseas chocolate box gifted by the company’s owner in that exact kitchen—shells shaped chocolate, I remember it clearly. And if I were to trust my memory on this part, the back side of the open hall is a clearing, where the ground was filled with loose stones (like those on the railways). And the wall that separated the office with the building on the other side was overgrown by ficus pumila a.k.a creeping fig.

So the whole thing—the road leading to, the meadow and the creeping fig in my dad’s office—if I can say are the things that furnished my core memories.

Happiness in the childhood.

So I love seeing big houses.

I want to know what’s on the inside, how’s on the inside, but that’s not what makes me, everytime I stay over in the island, always pull a road trip with my sister to some luxury neighborhood—especially those on the road leading to my dad’s past office. Instead it’s the nostalgic feeling I was slammed with everytime I see those that I was looking for. Later in life, I wish I will be able to own a luxury house. For, instead of wanting to live a luxury live, I wish it for me to be able to live in the tone of my childhood. Simply to be able to feel the nostalgia everyday, up close, from the first hand.

Switzerland’s been my ultimate dream destination since forever for an obvious reason.

P.S. Google Street is such a knight in shining armor.

[kindlykith]

of finding you

Hey, do you remember? 

This was the picture you took of me the day we took that spontaneous trip to this lonely field. 

You said it felt like stumbling upon a little oasis fairy among the desperate-looking dry reeds.

Such a silly metaphor, I thought at first. I nudged your arm out of embarrassment and laughed. You kept saying that you were being serious, but I kept laughing, until eventually, you gave in and laughed along.

If only you knew, the ghost of your laugh that afternoon still haunts me even after all these years.

Then I took this picture of you. 

Do you know the reason I brought this memory up all of a sudden?

It’s the moment.

You know how much I love taking your candid shots and it was no different back then. And as I look through the lens, I thought that maybe you were right.

That maybe I was indeed a little fairy, living between the grass, who suddenly encountered an unknown creature—so breathtaking that I had to stare for so long. 

At that very moment, time felt like it was forced to stop and everything within my sight was monochrome but you.

The moment I wish I didn’t take for granted.

Would you please tell me, where I should go to have it all again? Tell me, what I should do to be able to live in that moment forever? 

It wouldn’t matter if I could only look at you from afar, but please, let me at least find you.

Because just like how you found an oasis fairy in that drying field of reeds, I too, want to find a you in this drying life of mine.

[daily-prompts]

prompt 1645

Finish this paragraph:

She got the same strange feeling in the attic as she did in the barn, an echo of things that happened there a long time ago.

[kindlykith]

ohh i'd love to write something about this

[kindlykith]

and yet another snowy night in december

It was the very first snowfall night of the year, sitting on a somber metal bench of a bus stop, Ran was once again swept away in the pieces of the past she desperately wanted to forget.

And this time, she couldn't run away.

---

In this three hours before midnight, could this day get any worse?

It was the rhetoric that kept echoing in Ran’s head as she half dragged her right foot across the office hallway. An ironic, knowing that she had a thoroughly arranged scenario in her head when she woke up this morning—she’d finish her morning routine in half an hour, arrive at the office fifteen minutes later, and there would be a good twenty minutes to prepare herself for this morning's agenda—a design concept presentation in front of her clients which if ends up smoothly, the sought-after interior design tender of a five-star hotel in Kusatsu will be hers. A quite promising scenario if only she didn't have to deal with her car’s drama this morning.

Ran was now considering taking off her five-centimeter-heeled boots. Shizuoka’s temperature had fallen to minus four tonight and at this rate, snow might fall any time. Ran seemed to have to overlook that fact now as the pain in her ankle was already unbearable to be ignored. After all, walking barefoot seventy meters to the nearest bus stop shouldn’t freeze her feet in an instant.

Ran finally carried her ankle-high black boots before descending the hall steps. As she walked down the paved road to the bus stop in the cold, Sera's comment yesterday about the strange sound of her car engine echoed in her head—Ran, I think you need to have a check-up on your car. Ran actually had that intention in her mind for a few days already, but with a pretty hectic schedule lately—preparing everything for that consequential presentation—she never really got around until that white Mazda couldn't start this morning.

That was the beginning.

Everything then started going downhill from there.

She had to run to catch a bus that would leave in two minutes, sprained her ankle for her footwear wasn't made for running, arrived at her office two minutes before the presentation schedule, then hurriedly took the elevator to the nineteenth floor. And the moment Ran displayed the presentation file from her disk before those clients, she knew she had to give up on that tender.

The bus stop beside the deciduous magnolia tree was empty when Ran arrived. The only thing that greeted her was a gray metal bench that looked cold under the dim light of the fluorescent tube lamp. Ran sat on it, looking out at the quiet road. There were only one or two vehicles passed. The clock that was hanging languidly in the left corner of the bus stop displayed 9:14 p.m. There were still around sixteen minutes before the bus arrived.

For the next few minutes, silence frequented the bus stop more than the roar of vehicles. The serenity was actually the only thing Ran wanted now after all the chaos she went through since morning. Unfortunately, it still wasn’t enough to put her mind to rest when these thoughts keep piercing her—if only she took her car to the repair shop sooner, if only she woke up earlier this morning, if only she took her flat shoes instead, if only she ran through all her presentation file last night, if only this, if only that.

Coping with the “if only” is always the hardest. That’s the one thing Ran knew by heart.

Even after all these years.

Ran felt her phone vibrate. A message from Sonoko came in, reminding Ran of her supposed trip to Tokyo for the Coldplay concert tomorrow evening—Your train is scheduled to arrive at 2 pm, right? Let’s meet at the parking lot near the south exit tomorrow. We’ll grab some lunch at this one yakisoba restaurant my family frequents around there. See you!

Underneath Sonoko’s, there was another one that had been left unopened since two hours ago. From Kazuha. Ran felt as if she could hear the Osakan woman's enthusiastic voice when she read the message—Ran-chan! Do you fancy a trip to Niseko next weekend? It's been a whole year since the last time I went skiing, I badly want to go... We can book the hotel for like two or three nights. There’s also this well-known spa downtown, let’s pamper ourselves before the hectic year-end season, shall we? Guarantee you, it’ll be our best trip of the year!

Upon reading those messages, Ran couldn't help but look at the alphabet and numbers displayed on the top left corner of her cell phone screen.

December 21st.

It’s already that time of the year, huh?

The last weeks of the year. The weeks when the first snow is always expected to start falling. The weeks, which for the past few years, Ran had always spent by keeping herself busy. Taking more projects, overtime, sleepover, vacations, year-end concerts, drinking nights, anything. Ran was even the only one without complaint when her office decided that the year-end holiday would only be on the two days of Christmas and the last day of December. Anything she would do as long as these last weeks could pass faster. Anything, that could make her forget every memory in December all those years ago.

Her friends understood her very well.

Unfortunately, tonight, in the midst of the slowly falling first snow and a throbbing ankle, those memories filled her again—forcibly pulling her to drown in the pieces of the past she never wanted to remember.

And she couldn't run away.

Ran looked over the seemingly drearier road before her. Thinking how much longer she had to be here—waiting. It was almost twenty minutes to ten at night.

This will definitely be a long night.

+

The white bus was finally within her sight ten minutes later.

Late, but she was fine with it. At least that bus actually arrived. There was a pile of snow on its roof—must be from some areas with higher snowfall intensity. The roads must’ve been starting to be closed thus forcing all those vehicles to take another route.

Just like those nights.

The nights that made Ran always imagine if it weren’t for the fact that it snowed back then, maybe everything in her life would be different.

Everything.

Including how the call that was finally picked up after dozens of missed calls and a hustled greeting of “Ran, can we talk later?” ended that night.

It was still vivid in her mind how that night—one day in the last two weeks of December five years ago, sitting on the metal bench of the bus stop in front of her former workplace in Beika, she struggled to maintain her intonation as normal as possible when her teeth started to chatter. “No, Shinichi. I need to talk to you this instant.”

Some commotion was audible from across the call line and Ran could already guess what he would say next, “But—”

“Please.”

From the other end of the line, Ran could faintly hear him asking for permission from the people around. Sorry and excuse me I’ve got to take this call—the words Ran suddenly despise so much. It wasn't long before the noise on the other end of the phone faded and Ran could hear his tired voice asking, “What is it?”

Ran closed her eyes and took a deep breath at the question—trying to suppress the already overwhelming emotions.

“You really have to do it like this, do you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you really have to text me that you just canceled our appointment and ask me to go home alone like that?”

“This is a critical case, Ran. I still can't come back to Beika tonight. We have to investigate the trail before tomorrow morning to avoid another victim,” Shinichi tried to explain. “You surely understand that I can't just leave like that, right?”

On other occasions, those sentences would probably sound just like how Shinichi usually tried to give her understanding. But with his tone that night, it was hard not to interpret that he was tired of having to explain the same thing over and over again—which lit up her fury.

“Shinichi, I don't mind you doing and being responsible for your job, but you should’ve at least told me in advance that you probably won't be able to come….”

“Sorry, Ran. I've been so occupied since this morning and everything here suddenly requires extra attention. Let's postpone this dinner, shall we?”

Shinichi didn't get her point, did he?

Really, it wasn't the dinner Ran was furious about. Even though it was the only thing she’d been looking forward to all week. Even though she knew her meeting with Shinichi that night—after being away from each other for more than two weeks—would be a special one. Even though she knew that the weather forecast showed an eighty percent probability that it would snow—Ran had been monitoring the news for the past few days. Anniversary day, anniversary dinner, first meeting after a while, all the while watching the snowflakes falling for the first time in the year—a scenario that was now just mere wishful thinking.

“I should’ve just taken the nine p.m. bus when I found out that it was the last one for today. Beika had been on minus five since eight, Shinichi, and I know the main routes are closed now. How stupid I am still waiting in our usual meeting place alone for two hours, dealing with the cold just because I was afraid you were already on your way with no battery, thus you couldn't call me....” Ran saw the white steam of her breath from her blurred vision. “Apparently, it was all for nothing.”

At that second, it was clear that there was no point in lingering at the dim bus stop any longer. Her nose and throat hurt more and more and Ran had tightened her woolen scarf many times. No bus had come to stop since an hour ago. At that point, she had to start moving toward the subway unless she wanted to struggle her way through the thick white carpet that covered most of the road and miss the last train that night.

Silence occupied the line between the both of them for a while before Shinichi's faint voice was heard. “Ran…, I'm sorry….”

Months after that call, in a more eased and rational state of mind, Ran realized that maybe the case Shinichi was working on at that time indeed took his whole thoughts and attention. Perhaps that was why Ran didn't get the response or explanation she expected for the issue she brought up.

But that night, Ran didn't think that far.

She couldn't and didn't have the time to think to that extent.

“You know, Shinichi? All this time, every time our plans were suddenly canceled due to your demanding work, I always try to understand you—that it's okay we can go out another time, it’s okay if you can only tell me at the last minute. One-two times you forgot to give me a call, didn't pick up the phone or replied to my messages, I tolerated it. But this time, I don't think I can take it anymore.” A gust of wind slipped into the bus stop. Ran shivered for a moment.

“I get it that you might’ve forgotten this appointment. It’s okay Shinichi, really. But when you remember that, don’t you owe me any explanation? Is it that hard for you to spare your time to call and explain? To even acknowledge that someone is waiting for you? I’d appreciate you a lot more if only you made the effort to call me. And not just merely texted me hours after our appointed time, suddenly saying you’re canceling our plan like this. I’ve been waiting for hours, your phone was off all day that I couldn’t reach your call line, and you don’t even care to explain to me directly....” Her throat suddenly choked and Ran struggled to finish the next sentence she wanted to convey.

“You don't even care to ask me how am I doing right now.”

Ran tightened her coat even more and her gloveless right hand that held the cell phone had almost gone numb. Shinichi repeatedly said his sorry, asked her exact whereabouts and offered to ask someone’s help to pick her up. But at that point, Ran didn't care anymore and she really wanted to end the call.

That night, Ran didn’t know whether pouring everything over the phone was the right thing to do. But she needed that. She needed to vent out all her emotions—all those feelings of being let down, forgotten, unappreciated, and those crushed expectations. She even envied his colleagues for being able to hear his apology and permission to leave directly. Is it that hard for Shinichi to do the same thing to her? Moreover, Ran had never held him back when he canceled their appointment—Shinichi should’ve already known that—so what held him not to do so?

And perhaps, Beika's first snow that night also took a part in worsening everything. Perhaps, the cold was another factor holding her back from thinking clearly. The freezing air that night might’ve been some kind of extra fuel to her fury that made everything light up even more in flames—prompting Ran to hang up one-sidedly with “I don't even know if I want this relationship anymore or not.”

+

Ran wasn't the only passenger on the white bus. The back seats were occupied by several people in unkempt-looking formal attire—possibly just finished their overtime like herself. Sitting behind the driver were an old woman and a ginger-haired boy. The boy was holding a thin cardboard box. The box colors were something Ran was familiar with—the colors of sparklers packaging.

Ran averted her gaze.

Outside the window, the town looked just ready to celebrate the approaching New Year. The golden string lights hanging on almost every building looked as if they were running against the white Shizuoka streets—the warm sight everyone looks forward to every year.

Everyone but Ran.

She was probably the only one surrounded by cold every time she encountered such a sight.

The bus dropped her at a stop about one hundred meters away from her apartment. The road was now entirely hidden beneath the snow, forcing Ran to put on her black boots back—to which she thought if only the price were a bit more friendly, she might have pulled the torturing heels forcibly off.

Just the same thought as what she had on that one night five years ago.

The night when she had to drag her sprained left leg after her boot got stuck in a pavement crack on her way to the nearest subway station. Her call with Shinichi a few minutes earlier had left her too distracted to pay attention to the road and neither did December wind that night help cool her head down. Throughout the rest of her way back, Ran struggled to regulate her breathing due to her messed emotions that were exacerbated by the torturous boots.

It's funny how everything suddenly seemed to pull herself back to those days.

The next time Ran talked to Shinichi was on the next afternoon when she found a black Pajero Sport parked in front of her office basement parking elevator. She had memorized the licensed plate number by heart, that was how she came to recognize the car. Ran had been trying to avoid all kinds of contact Shinichi had attempted since the night before—she turned her cell phone off right after hanging up on him and ignored his incoming calls and messages ever since activating her cell phone back in the morning. It didn't take long for her to find the owner of the black Pajero with his back to her, leaning against her car’s driver door. Shinichi turned around when he heard the white Mazda lock open.

“What are you doing here?” Ran asked, half hissing. She looked around the basement parking lot, hoping no one but the two of them was there.

Shinichi walked to the front of the car hood—to where she was standing. “Ran, I really am sorry for yesterday.”

Ran could hear faint chatter from the direction of the basement elevator. Several employees with briefcases were also started to walk past the two of them. Parking lot and the end-of-work hour—this place will get even more crowded in a few minutes. Ran said uncomfortably, “Just go, Shinichi.”

“Let me drive you home,” he insisted. “We've got to talk about this, Ran. Just leave your car here.”

“I don't have anything to talk to you, Shinichi.” Ran struggled to keep her voice low. “Please give me some time to make up my mind,” she added as she tried to walk toward the driver's door.

The blue-eyed man got in her way.

“Then take this,” he begged her. Shinichi held out a clear plastic bag containing two green-yellow oval wraps. The smell that suddenly wafted from the package brought Ran to the realization that in some aspects, this man truly understood her. “Please. At least I know you have something to eat.”

That sentence made Ran pay actual attention to the man before her.

Shinichi must have just arrived at Beika. He looked truly disheveled that afternoon. His bangs messed up, his beige cashmere coat and the black shirt he wore underneath were wrinkled here and there as though they had been worn for days, the bags under his eyes were more visible than the last time she had seen him, and that tired expression on his face—it was like seeing Shinichi in one midnight a few months earlier when he came with the same disheveled appearance to an ER of one hospital in Beika’s downtown.

Ran also still didn’t know how she was able to drive from her office to the nearest hospital when stomach cramps and extreme nausea suddenly stroked her in the middle of her overtime. She couldn’t contact anyone that midnight—Ran was the only one sticking around at the office to meet a design deadline, her cell phone ran out of battery, and she left her charger at the apartment. Ran eventually had to borrow the nurse’s cell phone and dialed a number she had memorized for years. That was until Shinichi who was also working late that night came and ended up nagging all day—cursing her habit of forgetting meals every time she had lots going on in her mind.

Ran shifted her gaze back to the package.

That meeting was supposed to be a pleasant one. They hadn't seen each other for over two weeks and there were many things Ran wanted to do—hugging the man in front of her, exchanging stories, eating together, or simply sitting by his side. However, no matter how desperate Ran wanted to let go of her longing, there was one thing she couldn't yet be oblivious to—the disappointment that was still lingering. And she knew, whatever effort Shinichi attempted would not change anything if she still couldn't come to terms with her feelings.

Ran ignored the offer. She once again tried to walk past the man in front of her and made every effort to walk as normal as possible. However, Ran knew she wasn't shrewd enough to deceive the young detective when Shinichi suddenly grabbed her arm, holding her from going any further. “What happened to your leg?”

Ran stomped her hand. “Let go, Shinichi.”

“No.” Shinichi tightened his grip even more. “How did you get home yesterday?”

Ran laughed blandly. She turned her head and threw him a look of disbelief. “That's quite a pointless question, you know?”

Ran felt that she couldn't hold back anymore at that point, so before anyone could notice the tension between the two of them, she stomped her hand harder. “Just leave. I don't want to see you now.”

Shinichi's grip loosened and Ran took the opportunity to quickly get into the car. Her cheeks were wet as soon as she sat behind the steering wheel and her shaking hands made the key she was holding slip from the hole many times. Shinichi kept knocking on her car window, calling out her name and asking her to open the door.

That afternoon, Ran wanted to reach her apartment as fast as she can then cry her heart out—behind the door, on the couch, under the shower, on top of the pillows, anywhere. All Ran knew was that it was the decision she had to take—giving herself some time to cool off and considering how should their relationship go. And perhaps by staying away for a while, she could emphasize to Shinichi that there were limits he really need to take into account in his actions.

What she didn’t know was that years later, on every single day, she’d wonder what if it wasn’t the decision she made. What if she eventually got to sit next to him in his black Pajero Sport, reconciled, and maybe enjoyed the Subway sandwich in that clear plastic bag while telling each other’s stories—as they always did.

No one had the answer.

+

Ran never arrived at her apartment that afternoon five years ago.

A traffic jam had stretched along Teimuzu avenue and Ran's car had moved no more than a kilometer since she turned the steering wheel toward that road two and a half hours before. The heavy snow that rained over Beika that day had to be the reason—avalanches, vehicles stuck in the snow, an overly dangerous road—whatever was happening up ahead.

Ran turned on the cabin lights and looked at her reflection through the rearview mirror. She was clearly disheveled. Her eyes were visibly swollen, her nose was red, her dried tears had formed rivers on her cheeks, and there was mascara running down the creeks.

She felt her eyes stinging, Ran closed them for a moment.

Then the call came in.

It was already 8:49 p.m. when it caused the voice of Chris Martin who’d been accompanied her in the long wait replaced by her ringtone. The car’s LCD displayed Heiji Hattori. Ran cleared her throat and made sure her voice didn’t sound nasal. She took a deep breath before picking up the phone, wondering why did he call her.

"Hello?"

"Ran, where are you?" Heiji's voice echoed in her car.

"On my way back. What is it, Hattori?”

"Are you driving?"

Although feeling a little confused by the question, Ran affirmed.

"Ran, I need you to pull over."

Ran frowned at the request. She looked at the LCD displaying the minutes of their call and as if Heiji was physically there, she asked, “Why?”

"I need to talk to you now," he said. “Not over the phone.”

“Is it about Kazuha?” Ran asked curiously. She had known Heiji with the same period length as Shinichi with him and her with Kazuha. But still, Ran and Heiji weren't that close. The factor that connected her and that man was because he was a close friend of Shinichi and Ran was close with Kazuha. Heiji would always be able to contact Shinichi if he needed anything, so the most likely reason for Heiji to contact her that night was his lover.

But Heiji rejected her hypothesis. "It's about something else," he answered quickly. “Where are you to be exact? I'll pick you up."

“Teimuzu ave, and it's been on a jam since three hours ago. There's no way I can pull over anytime soon."

"Not moving at all?"

Ran looked ahead. There was still no sign of movement after the last time her car moved—twenty minutes ago. The road across is not much different.

“Can barely move,” she replied.

Heiji was silent on the other side. Whatever he was going to say must’ve been something important and urgent if they had to meet in person, so Ran scrolled the navigation screen of her car and observed the route. There was the Teimuzu overpass to the north just about five hundred meters from her car position. She suggested for them to meet at the end of the overpass and that she would send him the location for their meeting—to which Heiji agreed.

It took Ran about forty minutes to reach their designated meeting point, a clearing under the overpass. A black Land Rover with a snow-covered roof was parked under a streetlight. Ran parked her car on its right. She soaked a tissue with water and cleaned her face, making sure she looked normal before getting out. Ran knocked on the passenger side window of the black car.

For a moment Ran thought she had mistaken the car because there was no answer from inside. The temperature was still quite chilly outside and the road looked wet among the remnants of the snow that was still piling up. Ran tightened the knot of her scarf. Heiji was talking to someone over the phone when he finally opened the door from inside. He immediately ended the call and greeted Ran with “Hey, when did you finally get out of there?”

Ran went inside, feeling the immediate warmth from the car heater, and for a moment allowed herself to adjust to the temperature. "About half an hour after your call—wait...." Ran turned to the Osakan man who was reversing the car. "We're leaving?"

"Yes. Just leave your car here first, we'll come back later. Have you locked it?"

Ran nodded. Heiji started to enter the road. It was no longer snowing in that Beika-Haido border region and the road seemed to have been salted—that was why everything looked wet. Their visibility back then was no more than thirty meters.

"So, what is it?" Ran asked.

Heiji seemed to be concentrating on the road. “I'll tell you when we're about to arrive.”

“And where are we going?”

“Beika Central Library. Can you please turn on the navigator and check if we can avoid the jam, Ran? We don't want to go through the bad traffic again, do we?”

Ran wondered what was with the library, but didn’t ask any further. Shinichi also often did the same thing—won’t reveal the purpose behind his actions until he was absolutely sure of the outcome. Ran thought that as a fellow detective, Heiji must have the same way of thinking.

“I think we have to go through Touto highway,” Ran said while scrolling Heiji's car navigation screen.

"The only choice?"

"Yep, it’s the only one in green."

Heiji seemed to ponder for a moment before leaning over to scroll the screen along.

"It was one of the few possible roads this afternoon too," she added.

Heiji nodded finally and asked her to turn the voice navigation on. Touto highway was without any significant congestion that night, except on one certain kilometer which required vehicles to pass alternately. A police line ran from the opposite lane, past the middle barrier to almost half the lane they were now on. The barrier was shattered into pieces and Heiji's fast speed made the two wrecked cars across the lane look even blurry in the darkness of the night and poor visibility.

“This type of weather is terrifying,” Ran commented. "The reason for the traffic jam on Teimuzu avenue earlier also turned out to be cars stuck in the snow."

Heiji didn’t say anything. Ran thought he was concentrating on the road.

The ride was quiet enough that Ran could feel the cold air outside. Even Heiji didn't bother turning on the radio or playing music to liven things up. The only sound that consistently filled up the space was the occasional woman voice from Heiji’s navigator. Ran actually had initiated conversations several times to make the atmosphere less awkward, but Heiji didn't seem interested and only answered plainly. When did you arrive in Beika? This morning. A case? Yeah. With Shinichi? Heiji nodded slightly.

The silence hung for a long time until Heiji finally spoke as the car approached the T-junction at the end of Touto highway, “Did you meet him?”

Ran froze.

She knew Heiji was referring to her boyfriend and the question brought her mind back to their meeting in the parking lot a few hours before. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, Ran immediately replied, “Yeah, this afternoon. Why?”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Ran could see Heiji shaking his head slowly. Yet, Ran felt that somehow the question was too out of context to really stop there.

She turned to the man sitting behind the wheel.

Heiji seemed to be fully concentrated. His eyes were fixed on the road and Ran just realized that he didn't seem to have turned to her at all since she sat inside. His appearance was no more unkempt than the Shinichi she had met that afternoon. His hair was tousled, his sleeves were rolled up sloppily, and the hem of his shirt was sticking out. He looked at the road with some expression Ran couldn't read.

That was when she realized something.

Heiji’s breathing was deep and fast. And that body language—him gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his upright sitting that was barely propped against the back of his seat—gave an impression that he was on alert. That something was haunting him.

Accordingly, Ran couldn't help but ask, "Is something bothering you?"

The question must have been too out of the blue. "Huh?"

“You look uneasy.”

Heiji didn’t answer. Ran would be lying if she didn't sense something was wrong there, thus she asked again, "What is it that you want to talk about, Hattori?"

He kept silent. Ran could see Heiji's face hardened and his jaw strengthened, but before she could say any further, Heiji's ringtone echoed through the cabin speakers.

Heiji glanced briefly at his car's LCD which displayed Inspector Megure's name then ignored the call. The tone that continued to ring and Heiji's silence subconsciously created a strange feeling in her.

"Hattori," she called.

The ringtone ended. Heiji remained silent. The woman from Heiji’s navigator said that their destination was only one hundred meters away on their left. Heiji suddenly turned the device off.

Ran was getting annoyed.

“Hattori, answer me!”

Heiji made a quick glance to the right rearview mirror and suddenly pulled the car over. Abrupt and rough.

The first sentence he said after his long silence was, "Ran, I'm sorry."

Thousands of questions filled Ran's head at that moment. What for? She wanted to ask. An apology wasn’t what she needed. But before she could open her mouth, Heiji spoke, slowly, but in that situation was difficult for her to digest, "You know very well how dangerous... and terrifying this weather is...."

Ran didn't know where this conversation was going. She also didn't know whether she would like what Heiji was actually trying to say by quoting her comment on Touto highway earlier. But then she remembered—about how Heiji had suddenly accelerated the car as it passed that one kilometer on Touto highway and his hesitation when he found out that it was the only route they could take. And Ran then mustered up the courage to speak her mind. As if by voicing it, she could eliminate the worst that might arise.

"You're not saying it was him, are you?"

The sentence sliced ​​her throat.

Heiji was still staring at the road. His hands still gripped the steering wheel although they had stopped now—too tight as if his life depended on it.

"That's not the one you're going to tell me, is it?" Ran could hear the trembling of fear in her voice.

Then she saw it.

Through the window on Heiji's left, on the building across the road, the words Beika Central Library gleamed in the darkness. It was the moment Ran realized that the building was not their actual destination.

She turned hesitantly to the window at her right.

A white building was standing tall under the light rain of white flakes. There were kanji lights that made up some words on top of the building. And even though her sight started to become blurry, Ran could still make sense of what was the phrase—Tokyo General Hospital.

Heiji was still silent.

There are times when a person's silence has the loudest voice. Heiji's silence that night was an instance. Hence, Ran thought she had already known the answer. Now, all that was left was the question can she still hope?

But she didn't have the courage to say it.

She thought she would not be able to hear the answer.

However, that situation was not the one where she really had a choice. And when there is no place to escape, facing it is the only answer.

Ran took a deep breath. In a quivering and almost whispering voice, she asked, "How is he?"

With a hoarse voice that was getting less and less audible, Heiji repeatedly mumbled I'm sorry.

There was no hope.

Ran stared blankly out the windshield. The string lights that adorned most of the buildings were twinkling, radiating a warm sight, but Ran had completely lost the ability to sense it. Her head slumped weakly against the back of the passenger seat. She was overwhelmed with a bunch of messed feelings—it was like having a bomb dropped right in front of her eyes.

The last days of December had never been that cold.

+

The only thing Ran wished she had realized that night was that everything was just her imagination. That she was in a deep sleep and her tired mind decided to play that dream in response to the two emotionally draining days she had recently.

She didn't want to scream hysterically or lash out at the doctor.

She just wanted to find a way out of that suffocating nightmare.

In fact, when she saw the situation after Heiji brought her in, she realized that that fear wasn’t just an illusion. It was really there. Real and obvious, on the twisted faces of those sitting on that black bench—Inspector Megure, Professor Agasa, Ai Haibara—on the only part of the hospital Ran thought she would never visit. At least not this soon.

Not for Shinichi.

Then she fell to her knees on the cold hospital floor.

Ran felt like there was a hammer hitting her head ceaselessly. She tried to take a deep breath but her chest felt too tight as if all the oxygen had suddenly been snatched from her reach. She gasped for breath as the truth slowly seeped into her consciousness—the fact that just a few hours earlier they were still talking to each other and now she would no longer be able to hear his voice.

From that point onwards, everything was a blur.

People started arriving after that—Tokyo police officers, some FBI members, her parents, even journalists. Ran couldn't remember who came after whom and what did they do, but she knew Sonoko and Kazuha were beside her all that night, also during the funeral on the next day. Shinichi's parents arrived almost noon the next day. Yusaku was still quite responsive even though everyone could see that he was the epitome of broken glass, Yukiko looked like she had been shattered into pieces.

Ran didn't want to ask for the details. Her head had been spinning violently enough, not sure whether she would be able to hear anything about the fatal accident. But in a situation that took many by surprise, the talk of what actually happened on the Touto highway that afternoon was unavoidable.

In the end, the chronology reached her ears.

That at around six o'clock in the afternoon, the black Pajero Sport was seen heading north with a speed of more than 70 km/h, on the icy asphalt of kilometer 47. Just a few meters before exiting the kilometer, an SUV in front of it suddenly skidded due to the slippery road and came to a halt in the middle of the road, blocking the Pajero's path. At such a high speed, it was impossible to stop the car all of a sudden, so the Pajero then swerved off the track and crashed into the barrier and a vehicle at the opposite lane.

As her mind slowly digested all the information, Ran began to understand something.

It was one thing that was also questioned while the chronology was passed by word of mouth—what was the reason Shinichi was on that road? Touto highway runs west of Beika toward Haido city in the north. Shinichi's house wasn't in that direction, nor was the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department where Shinichi was supposed to be chairing an important meeting at seven that night. He wouldn’t reach Tokyo on time from such a far distance. After all, why drive at such high speed in bad weather? Even the incoming road user reports stated that visibility was no more than twenty meters that afternoon.

No one knew.

But Ran had a guess. She wanted to deny it, but the conjecture felt like the missing piece of the puzzle to all the questions that could never be answered.

Because there was a fact Ran just realized.

That the Touto highway was one of the few possible roads to pass that afternoon when it was snowing heavily over Beika. Consequently, the road made up the only route Ran could take to reach her apartment on the Beika-Haido border—the route that she actually took around the same time. That afternoon, it was not impossible that Shinichi was chasing Ran's car after their meeting in her office parking lot.

The accident happened when Shinichi was following her.

Ran massaged her temples recalling all those painful memories in her mind.

She had now spent more than thirty minutes sitting in the pantry of her apartment; shaking the wine glass on her hand, gulping down the liquid inside, refilling the empty glass—doing all those sequences over and over again, hoping all those pieces of the past would be washed away with the crimson liquid every time she swallowed it.

It was still snowing heavily outside.

Ran didn't know if the view from the balcony window affected the atmosphere in her living room, but every piece of furniture in it looked cold—the beige sofa next to the balcony window, the wooden coffee table, the television on the wall, the white fur rug that covered most of the floor room, also the vase of lilies in the corner. Even with the heating on and some yellow light radiating from behind the ceiling, no warmth was felt from the view of her living room. Everything that occupied the room seemed as if they just stood there and died.

When was the last time her living room felt alive?

Ran didn't remember.

All she remembered was that everything there had once been warm—and pleasant. Those bittersweet memories—Ran only realized how much she missed that warmth when everything suddenly played out like snippets of a movie in front of her. There, back in the living room of her old apartment in Beika many years ago, Ran saw herself smiling at Shinichi who fell asleep while they were watching The Notebook; she saw the two of them sat cuddled up on the sofa, a cup of hot chocolate in each other's hands, and small talk filled the space between them; she saw the way Shinichi didn't take his eyes off her amethyst irises as he took a bite of the Subway sandwich she offered him to try; she saw how Shinichi kissed her lips in the dim candle lights on her birthday; she saw the two of them lit up some sparklers on the balcony against the colorful Beika New Year's sky; she saw herself ran around in the living room avoiding Shinichi who was trying to poke her cheeks with birthday cake cream, both laughed out loud.

“We were so happy. Do you see that?” she smiled faintly and asked, either to whom.

Tonight, for the umpteenth time, Ran found herself desperately wishing to be granted the chance to turn back time and change everything.

Because if only that night she didn’t wait at the freezing bus stop;

If only she could control her anger;

If only she acted a bit wiser;

Maybe Shinichi didn't have to follow her that afternoon, driving through that road, at that very second.

She felt sorry for his feelings. There were no good talks, no last goodbyes, even the last words she said to him were just leave, I don't want to see you now. She must’ve irked God so much that her words were granted right away. 

She felt sorry for his effort. His effort to ask her forgiveness, his effort to buy her meals, his effort to follow her while sacrificing his work schedule.

And Ran never got the chance to fix anything.

To say her sorry to him.

To let him know that her love had never faded away.

The rush of regret never went away to the point that she couldn’t even bring herself for a visit to him. Not once she ever did.

Ran didn't even know how she got to this day. The few first months were the most poignant. She tried to make sense of it all. Time felt meaningless as she went through her days feeling numb to nearly everything. She struggled to finish her meals, struggled to get back to work, struggled to get through the day without crying, struggled to do the things she used to have no problem with. There were even times when certain corners of Beika had her pulling over her car to calm down her ragged breathing. She eventually left the small town after some time and moved to Shizuoka, hoping to get the fresh start she needed. New environment, new workplace, new people. She even tried to start going out again. Sonoko arranged a few blind dates for her and Kazuha introduced her to some of her guy friends, but nothing really worked. Ran found herself constantly comparing them to the only person in her past.

Amidst everything, December had always slammed back a wave of those memories on her.

Ran didn’t know how long she’d continue living her days like this.

The sound of an incoming message from her cell phone suddenly brought Ran back to the present. A name so familiar yet so distant appeared on her cell phone screen. The name of someone who used to be Ran’s only image of her future mother-in-law.

Yukiko Kudo.

A bit wondering as it was already seven minutes past eleven, Ran felt her stomach turn when she read the message.

Ran-chan, it’s been so long. How’s life in Shizuoka? I hope you’re having the best day. Have you got the package I sent you this morning? It should've arrived according to the delivery tracking...

Ran looked at the messy pile of packages on the coffee table in her living room. She limped to the sofa in front of the table and looked for the one Yukiko was referring to. A small box wrapped with red decorative paper stood out among the packages from the online store she had not yet opened. Ran picked it up. A familiar address was written on its wrap.

I'm currently back in Beika and was just cleaning and tidying up some of his belongings when I found it inside a pocket of his suitcase.

Ran opened the package to find a blue velvet box that barely fit in her hold. On its lid was engraved a logo that was unfamiliar to her. The name of a shop located in Gunma was written on a cardboard hanging by a string from the box.

Her heart suddenly pounded as Ran guessed the inside.

She lifted the lid with shaking hands.

I never heard anything about you anymore, Ran-chan, whether you are living your life happily or you have already started going out again, so my apologies if sending this turns out to be disrespectful for the relationship you might be in..., but this was intended to be yours from the very beginning, so at any rate, you're still the rightful owner of it.

Anyway, I'll spend new year's eve here, so I wish you'd hit me up when you're free, we should catch up and grab some drinks.

Ran froze at the sight of the object.

A necklace.

The rose gold chain immediately shimmered in her living room light as she picked it up. And the pendant—Ran wanted to cry—a miniature cherry blossom tree in a transparent resin dome-shaped no bigger than her thumbnail. Several pink cherry blossom petals were scattered around a small branch that ran across the pendant.

Cherry blossom.

Ran didn't have to ask why. That flower that has March as its starting blooming period held several important memories for both of them—their first class, first meeting, first interaction, also the moment Shinichi first realized his feelings for her.

Moreover for Ran now, this flower also held the memory of their last date.

It was an unplanned one, on the last week of November five years ago—just a few days before Shinichi had to leave to take a lead of a case in Gunma; a few weeks before her life fell apart. His frown and confused voice when he said “Fuyuzakura?” was still vivid in her mind. The question to which she answered enthusiastically. She started flooding him with this and that about the winter cherry blossoms and listed all the viewing spots they could visit. She remembered how Shinichi suddenly asked her after, “You want to go now?”

Thinking he was joking, Ran answered disdainfully, “As if you can.”

“I can,” Shinichi told her in a serious tone. “All today’s meetings were canceled last night, so I’m free all day.”

That was how they found themselves two hours later, walking under the shade of fuyuzakura trees planted along the riverbank. Ran remembered the warmth of his arm as she hugged it during that pleasant afternoon walking. Ran remembered his cedarwood scent as he stood before her to brush off the petals that kept landing in her hair. Ran remembered his strong grip on her arm when the boat they rented to go down the river shook a little. Ran remembered his smile as he watched her ranting about work while both were snacking on the riverbank. Ran remembered the gentle touch of his hand as he wiped the cheese cream off the edge of her lips. Ran remembered his ethereal silhouette as he stood on the river bridge against the orange sky. Ran remembered his laugh as they ran between the trees, among the flying fuyuzakura petals, filming each other.

Ran rubbed her eyes, not wanting tears to cloud her gaze at the necklace that eternalized their memories.

As soon as her vision cleared, something caught her attention. It was a folded piece of white art paper that was attached under the lid of the box. There was the same unfamiliar logo at the bottom left corner of the paper—a typical complimentary greeting card. Ran took it off.

Ran knew more than anything that Shinichi wasn't the type to voice his thoughts through letters, especially when it comes to romantic purposes, so she didn't expect much. But the handwriting she had longed for had actually been scribbled in wet ink behind the fold. Ran then struggled to make up the meaning of each stroke as she read it—not because it was unreadable, but because of the emotions that suddenly overtook her.

It felt as if Ran could hear Shinichi talking to her again.

Hey, 

I know you might get upset that I won't be around for your special day, but set all negativity aside Ran, just be happy and enjoy everything to the fullest. I don't want my absence to make you miss the joy of every single moment in your life. Some things just don't come twice.

Wish to see you with this in that white ruffle(?) dress you’d been wanting to wear on your birthday, so send me some pictures later?

Sorry and have the happiest birthday, Ran!

His message was simple.

Ran flipped over the paper, wishing there was more to it, but Shinichi’s handwriting apparently stopped right there. Through clouded eyes, Ran couldn’t stop reading the message over and over again, afraid if she had missed a point, a sentence, or a word. The letter must’ve been written just to fill out the complimentary greeting card. It was so straightforward, typical of him. But despite that, Ran liked how he kept the content personal for both of them—about how he specifically addressed her white ruffle dress. She did tell the story once, around summer five years ago. They were at his library and he was reading some novel. She told him about how she had already bought a dress for an office event, but the event was suddenly canceled. About how that made her want to wear it for her upcoming birthday party instead, which was supposed to be held on the year after—little did Shinichi know that the party was canceled, and never once had she thrown a celebration ever since. Back then, Ran didn’t really care whether Shinichi was listening or not as it was just a light babbling.

But he did.

And he remembered.

His message was simple, Ran thought again.

It was obviously written to congratulate her on her past birthday. A wish for her to have the most joyous day. A reminder for her to live in the present moment. But more than addressed toward her past self, she felt that this letter was like a request to her present self. She had been asking herself for years, how long she’d continue living like this—running away every time December comes, regretting every snowfall, and never being able to actually put a genuine smile on her face. She was tired—that was obvious—but at the same time, she never had the strength to get out of the past. The ghost of regret kept following her and that haunting her for years. But Shinichi’s words about how he particularly wanted her to not miss the joy of every single moment made her realize that the life she was living was not what he wished her to have—especially with him not being around. Ran couldn’t help but feel that the letter was some kind of his way to ask her to stop. To cut the leash that had held her back for years. To stop hating December’s snowy days.

His message was simple, yet at the same time portrayed a considerable amount of his care.

For the first time in years, Ran could feel the warmth she used to get from him. The warmth she’d been longing for.

His letter felt like the support she’d needed in years.

And so Ran decided that this time, she had to take the actual first step.

By the time Ran came back to her senses, she found her cell phone dialing Yukiko's number.

She knew more than anything that taking the first step would always be the hardest. It would require her a strong determination and an abundance of courage to break the barrier that kept her stuck in the past. For Ran, that step would be letting go of all the regrets that had been haunting her—to forgive herself, to accept everything as it is, to let herself enjoy every single moment in her life.

And letting go would also mean doing the one thing she’d been avoiding for the past few years—visiting him.

For that, she would need Yukiko by her side.

It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d strive for it.

Ran looked at the time as she waited for the call to be picked up.

11.54 p.m.

With how things went on the last three hours, Ran could almost easily lament her night today as ‘yet another snowy night in December’. Something regretful that she had never cherished in the past few years. But with the most unexpected gift and letter that came to her in the last minutes, it seemed like she had to let it become the first colorful memory of a December’s snowy night after years.

And there should just be happy days from now on.

Because that’s what he would want her to have.

"I'm sorry, Shinichi. I love you. I always do."

If only those words could actually be conveyed.

But for now, Ran wanted to believe it.

Fin.

A/N

Oh no, I’m so sorry. What did I write...

Believe me, writing this hurt me too... I just thought that it would be interesting to explore Ran’s emotions in such a situation. Anddddd please know that I do wish Gosho would never write something like this for both of them. Can’t imagine if he ever dares...

As a fun fact, this story was intended to be submitted for last year’s Shinran Week but unfortunately, my working schedule was so tight that I didn't get the chance to finish it on time hahaha :( I legit thought I would be able to finish it in 1-2 months but well, here I am, 7 months later...

Anyway, this is my first time writing a full-length story so any kind of feedback will be very much appreciated!

Thank you for reading!

[kindlykith]

understand you better

Kak, do you know how many times I have misunderstood you?

Pertama kali itu terjadi adalah di momen pertama kita bertemu. Hari pertama para anggota baru organisasi pencinta alam dikumpulkan. Hari di mana kamu menjadi satu-satunya senior yang tidak bisa dimintai tanda tangan. Sejak awal sesi tanda tangan itu kamu sengaja duduk di wilayah yang terlarang untuk dilewati anggota baru—tangga depan gedung serbaguna kampus. Aku bukan bermaksud sok pahlawan waktu akhirnya nekat melanggar, tetapi karena kesal. Dari awal sudah diwanti-wanti kalau kami—para anggota baru—tidak ada yang berhasil mendapat setidaknya seluruh tanda tangan pengurus inti, akan ada hukuman yang menanti. Tetapi kami ternyata harus melanggar peraturan yang juga berarti mendapat hukuman untuk menyelesaikannya—kakak-kakak ini maunya apa sih?

Dari teman-teman yang lain aku diberi tahu namamu Januar Abimanyu—si ketua organisasi. Tetapi waktu aku memanggilmu Kak Januar dan mengatakan tujuanku, laki-laki berkacamata dan berambut ikal di sebelahmu tertawa. Katanya, “Kamu ini udah melanggar, salah nama pula. Kamu manggil dia siapa?”

Tetapi kamu tiba-tiba langsung menandatangani buku yang kusodorkan dan berkata, “It’s Cairo.”

Selama aku dihukum karena pelanggaran itu, aku terus berpikir kalau kamu adalah orang yang nyentrik. Kenapa harus Cairo, sih? Supaya keren gitu?

Itu sebelum kuketahui namamu memang Januar Abimanyu Cairo. Juga sebelum kuketahui kalau kamu hanya tidak suka punya nama panggilan beda-beda. Cairo was your first given nickname by your parents and it should be a forever and a must. For everyone.

Dulu juga kupikir kamu tipe senior yang mempersulit segalanya, Kak.

Pertama, gara-gara kamu berdiam diri di wilayah terlarang waktu hari pertama organisasi itu. Yang berbulan-bulan kemudian baru kuketahui kalau kamu sebenarnya tidak menyetujui agenda mencari tanda-tangan itu. Itu sebabnya kamu tidak terjun langsung selama pelaksanaan. Kamu bilang padaku kalau kamu lebih memilih memberi pelatihan yang benar-benar berguna untuk terjun di lapangan dibanding membuang-buang waktu berkumpul dengan mencari tanda-tangan.

Kedua, gara-gara kamu selalu jadi yang paling galak. Kata teman-teman yang lain, kamu ribet dan perfeksionis. Aku sempat setuju. Masih jelas di ingatanku marahmu waktu itu padaku sebagai penanggung jawab angkatan ketika kami melakukan kesalahan. Yang bahkan terjadi setelah kita beberapa kali sempat jalan berdua.

You were on your sour face that afternoon and I could sense immediately something was going to happen. Kamu berdiri membelakangi tiang bendera, menghadap puluhan anggota organisasi di lapangan depan gedung serbaguna kampus. Aku mendengar bisik-bisik di sebelahku kalau salah satu teman kami salah membawa name tag. Dan aku segera tahu itu kesalahanku karena tidak mengadakan pengecekan barang bersama-sama sebelum kami berkumpul bersama senior sore itu.

Teriakmu waktu itu, “Penanggung jawab angkatan, maju!”

Di hari yang lain, kamu juga pernah marah banget waktu tahu kami salah menyusun posisi barang dalam tas carrier.

It took me a while to finally understand that you just value your principle. Dan prinsip itu berlaku untuk semua orang. Kamu hanya tidak mau kami tidak punya kedisiplinan dan kesiapan yang matang untuk segala kegiatan alam yang persiapannya tidak bisa main-main. Terutama kalau itu sampai terjadi di bawah pengawasanmu.

Ketika kamu pertama kali menghubungiku, suatu hari di bulan April tahun lalu, aku pikir kamu mau menjadi mata-mata. Kamu sudah tahu cerita ini dan tawamu lepas sekali waktu pertama kali kuceritakan—dan aku merindukan itu.

Untuk itu aku ingin menceritakannya lagi.

Waktu itu kupikir kamu mau memata-matai kinerja kami—para anggota baru. Itu sebabnya kamu terus bertanya padaku banyak hal tentang proyek-proyek organisasi yang kami jalankan. Hampir setiap hari. Kamu juga tahu aku takut banget waktu itu sehingga cuma memberimu informasi-informasi dangkal. Tetapi ketika suatu hari akhirnya kamu meminta kita bertemu di warung makan indomie di ujung jalan utama kampus, aku punya perasaan bahwa tujuan kamu menghubungiku berbeda 180 derajat dari apa yang aku kira.

Dan perasaan itu benar.

Di awal kita memulai hubungan ini pun kamu sempat membuatku bertanya-tanya. Kamu sangat berhati-hati dalam hubungan kita agar tidak sampai diketahui teman-teman yang lain. Di kampus, kamu hanya mengajakku bertemu di atap gedung fakultas ekonomi—yang bukan merupakan fakultas masing-masing dari kita, juga selalu makan siang di tempat yang setidaknya satu kilometer jaraknya dari kampus. Awalnya aku tidak tahu itu karena kamu malu atau memang kamu sebenarnya tidak ingin menjalani hubungan ini dengan serius—dan sejujurnya hal itu sempat membuatku kesal. Tetapi kemudian aku tahu jawabannya setelah kita tiba-tiba berpapasan dengan salah satu pengurus organisasi di warung pecel lele favoritmu. Kamu hanya tidak mau kita tidak leluasa dan canggung ketika bertemu selama kegiatan organisasi—seperti yang terjadi setelah hubungan kita terbongkar itu.

Kak Cairo, I have misunderstood you so many times.

And it was like that too on that day.

The day when you wanted to end everything between us.

The day I hurt you.

Aku tidak tahu bagaimana kamu tetap bisa mengendalikan emosi ketika bicara padaku hari itu—seperti yang selalu kamu lakukan dari waktu ke waktu. Sifatmu yang selalu menghindari nada tinggi tiap kali kita berbicara berdua saja itu memang satu hal yang aku suka dari kamu, Kak, tetapi kamu punya hak untuk melepaskan kecewamu waktu itu.

I saw the disappointment in your eyes and I really am sorry for that.

Sejak hari itu, aku tidak pernah benar-benar tahu kabarmu. I see you, but it was just that. Kamu mengabaikan semua pesan dan teleponku. Juga selalu menghindar tiap kali kita punya kesempatan untuk berada di ruang yang sama.

Pada akhirnya aku cuma bisa menatapmu dari jauh.

Seperti sore ini.

Kamu sedang berdiri di sana, dalam balutan jaket hijau tentara gelap, di bawah naungan pohon akasia, dan dilatari tenda-tenda yang sedang dibangun oleh kelompok-kelompok angkatan baru. Kedua tanganmu dalam saku jaket dan angin yang bertiup terus mengacaukan helai-helai ponimu yang jatuh. Suatu hari aku pernah bilang kalau aku paling suka ketika kamu menyisakan beberapa helai poni tetap bebas tanpa ditahan gel rambut, dan aku senang kamu terus melakukannya hingga hari ini.

Kalau kamu sedang serius seperti itu, kamu terlihat tampan sekaligus menyeramkan, Kak. Aku tahu fitur wajahmu yang tajam mendukung itu semua—garis rahang, tulang hidung, dan tatapan matamu. Teman-teman selalu bilang mereka suka melihatmu dalam mode serius seperti itu, tetapi di saat yang bersamaan juga takut kalau-kalau mereka penyebabnya. Aku yakin kelompok yang terus melakukan kesalahan dan kini sedang kamu awasi itu semakin tidak bisa berkonsentrasi. Sesekali juga samar kudengar ocehanmu yang kalau kata teman-teman lain cukup bikin kesal.

Tetapi aku mau itu.

Kelompokku juga bikin kesalahan, Kak. Dulu, meskipun kita sedikit menjaga jarak selama kegiatan organisasi, kamu tetap memperlakukanku sama seperti yang lain—mengajariku, menuntut argumenku, mendebatku, mengomeliku. Tetapi sekarang, kamu yang dari tadi terus berkeliling dari satu kelompok ke kelompok lain bahkan sama sekali tidak berkunjung ke sini. Tidak juga bahkan repot-repot mengedarkan pandangan ke arah ini.

Kak Cairo, you know what? I’d rather be scolded by you than be erased completely from your sight like this.

And I want to understand you better, Kak.

So please, can we go back to the way things were before?

—

Ju Ji Hoon as the muse for Cairo

[athenastudying-deactivated20220]

destroy the idea that intermediate goals aren’t important. maybe you can’t play the entire piano piece yet, but you can play the right hand and that’s good. maybe you haven’t figured out your major yet, but your minor or your field and that’s progress. maybe you can’t hold a full conversation in your target language yet, but you can ask for directions and that’s fine. setting high goals is good, but don’t diminish the small goals you achieve on your way there. they are just as important.

[kindlykith]

let me read you a story

“Yikang Sunbae, let me read you a story.”

Yikang suddenly recalled what Hyunjo had said to her with his deep voice, when both were sitting on the edge of a hill trail behind the town hall, away from the hustle-bustle of the annual 1995 flood memorial rite down there.

Hyunjo pulled a worn yellow book out from his bag. A picture of a giant marlin and the words “The Old Man and the Sea” were printed on its cover.

Yikang didn’t object to the idea. It was a great way to kill the time after all, but she wondered why did he bring such a book around.

“I was about to read this at Cheonwangbong peak this morning,” he answered her question before she could even open her mouth. “But something made me leave the peak earlier so I didn’t get the time to do it. I’m not going to read all of this anyway—just until my mouth gets tired.”

He opened the book. “Or if you ask me to stop,” he added.

Then he started reading.

He was an old man who fished alone...

Everything about him was old except his eyes...

...but he had taken it down because it made him too lonely to see it...

...with his eyes closed, there was no life in his face.

Words kept coming out of Hyunjo’s lips, entering her hearing sense. Everything was delivered in a well-thought intonation—he must’ve had read the story over and over, Yikang could tell that.

But that’s about it.

She never really grasped the meaning of each sentence or what was the story about as her mind was crammed by something else—

By everything about the man beside her.

That was the first time Yikang had actually noticed the full presence of Hyunjo from such a close distance.

His husky voice, the faint smell of cedarwood from his perfume, his left side profile that was illuminated by the dim yellow light of the streetlamp, his wavy bangs that were hanging loosely just above his eyes, his chapped lips that kept on uttering words by words...

Hyunjo and everything about him that night—the memories that kept surfacing in her mind.

Yikang wouldn’t try to deny that she’d been missing all that for quite some time.

And now, she wondered when she’d be able to hear words said in a baritone voice from those currently pale lips again. What surrounded her now were instead the monotonous sound of the electrocardiogram machine and the strong smell of disinfectant.

And albeit she could see Hyunjo’s side profile that was shining under the cold-white light, everything was just not the same.

Except for his chest that was barely visible of growing and deflating, he was still.

All over.

Yikang wheeled her chair closer to the bed. She hesitated for a moment before reaching out for his limp hand that wasn’t occupied with the IV tube and cables. Her fingers traced the back of his palm, slowly, back and forth, wishing he’d be able to hear what she had to say.

“Wake up, Kang Hyunjo,” she whispered. “Read me all those stories again.”

[wadey-wilson]

me: i wanna write, i feel like writing

*opens a doc*

me: ok brain now let’s write

my brain:

[kindlykith]

wip #1

The white bus was finally within her sight ten minutes later.

Late, but that's fine. At least that bus actually arrived. There was a pile of snow on its roof—must be from some areas with higher snowfall intensity. The roads must've been starting to be closed thus forcing all those vehicles to take another route.

Just like those nights.

The nights that made Ran always think, if it weren't for the fact that it snowed back then, maybe everything in her life would be different.

Everything.

Including how the call that was finally picked up after dozens of missed calls and a hustled greeting of “Ran, can we talk later?” ended that night.