#!book

[lastberserker]

✰ Sopa de Miso, Ryū Murakami

[writesweetnothings]

Lily: Chapter Two

Dear you,

Do you remember when we were nine and I was the only boy at your birthday party? Do you remember the looks of disgust on all your friends faces when I walked out back? I mean, how could you, a girl, invite me, a boy, of all people. Oh the outrage! They also all thought that it was disgusting that I was allowed to sleep over at your house and vice versa. "Boys have cooties," I could remember them telling you. And you'd just glare at them and, being the snappy third grader you were, you'd tell them, "So what? You go around your daddy and he's a boy." That shut them up real quick.

How about those beauty pageants you did? Man, were those some good times. I remember whenever you would lose, I would dress up in your least favorite dress, no matter how weird it seemed because it always seemed to cheer you right up. I was your best friend and that's what best friends do. I'd host tea parties in my room and we'd talk in fancy English accents late into the night on the nights when your parents fought.

Sometimes I'd wish to be in your place, just so you'd sleep happier at night. But most of the time, a small portion of myself was glad that I could make you feel better, that I made you happy. For selfish reasons, it's almost as though I was glad you were upset. At this point in my life, I wish I could take all my selfish reasons and choices and shove them into the bottomless pits of Hell, where they'd rot into oblivion. But you and I both know that's not possible no matter how hard I wish.

But if I could wish for anything, it'd be to have my best friend by my side forever and a day.

Love, me.

[writesweetnothings]

Lily: Prologue/Part One Opener and Chapter One

When I was little, I always asked what love was like. They would always tell always tell me that love is like the wind; easily felt but hard to catch.

Dear you,

Do you remember when we were just eight years old? Do you remember what your answer was when I asked what you thought love was like? If I recall correctly, you said, "Love is like being with your best friend everyday, without the teasing." I didn't believe it at the time, considering I was, well, me and the closest I got to "love" was the worms I ate in first grade.

When I got home, I asked my parents if what you said was right and they'd just give me this condescending smile and pat my head. Sometimes, when I'd bring it up again, they'd say, "She's a bright girl. With a head like that, she'll go far." And I believed every word they said because I too knew that you'd do bigger and better things that I couldn't even begin to fathom. I knew that by the time we finished high school, you'd already be planning your job options, your life, leaving the home you had grew up in, leaving me.

From that day in second grade, about halfway through the year when they took you of out Ms. Jenkins class, insisting that you were too bright to be around a bunch of dimwits, I knew you were already far ahead of me. Each day we'd still go to the park that's less than a block from our houses and you'd ask me if I was mad. I'd quickly shake my head, insisting that you're just meant to be one of the smartest girls the world will know.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to second grade, still knowing everything that I know now, but I wouldn't change anything. You'd still be my best friend and I'd still idolize you for being the smartest eight-year-old I'd ever met. But back then, things were so much easier. There wasn't worry about dances and dating and how we looked. We acted like ourselves around each other and I would take that over how we are now any day of the week.

I'd still just be your best friend.

Love, me.