uika sat atop the loft's creaky wooden steps, the chipped rim of her yellow coffee mug brushing against her lips as the bitter warmth seeped into her. dawn's timid light oozed through the windows, casting a pallid glow over the dishevelled room below. beside her, a second mug—sakiko's—sat untouched, the steam long since dissipated, leaving only the hollow chill of neglect.
her gaze lingered on the abandoned mug, its ceramic surface glazed with memories of early mornings and hushed conversations. setting her own down with a muted clink, uika drew a shallow breath, each inhale a useless attempt to anchor herself amidst the shifting tides of bewilderment and grief.
the ascent to the loft was slow, each step an elegy, the echo of her footsteps swallowed by the oppressive silence that had settled since sakiko’s departure.
the roof was low—extremely low—and uika bumped her head gently before deciding to crawl instead. how had saki lived with uika like this previously?
the futon lay in the corner, an undisturbed relic of a life recently uprooted. sakiko’s absence had transformed the small apartment into a mausoleum, the walls heavy with the weight of unsaid words and fractured bonds.
uika knelt beside the futon, quivering fingers tracing the creased fabric where sakiko once lay. she reached into her back pocket; she unfolded saki’s note once again, the thin paper trembling between her hands like the wings of a dying moth. the words— "thank you for everything"—were scrawled in sakiko’s precise handwriting, as usual, their simplicity cutting deeper than any knife.
her phone still bore the messages, a digital epitaph glowing in the dim light—an echo of the same phrase, laden with a finality that sent stuttered palpatations through her heart.
slowly, hesitantly, uika slipped beneath the covers of sakiko’s futon. the fabric was cool, carrying the faintest impression of sakiko’s form. she buried her face into the pillow, the fleeting scent of sakiko’s shampoo mingling with the saline sting of her tears. it was a smell that spoke of late nights and shared dreams, of a melody that bound them together in ways words never could.
"why did you leave?" the question slipped from her lips, a desolate whisper swallowed by the indifferent walls. the room held no answers, only the lingering specter of a friendship unraveled by the sharp edges of unspoken fears and insecurities—all too many.
each sob that shuddered through uika’s frame was a testament to the void sakiko had left—a chasm carved into her soul, raw and unyielding. she tightened her grip on the pillow, the pressure a meager substitute for the warmth she craved.
“s–saki-chan—” she hiccuped, voice delicate and small. “i miss— i miss you–” the crying wouldn’t cease; the all-too-many reminders of their past and the intense longing weren’t helping. at all.
her doe, lilac eyes wouldn’t dry, even while attempting to calm herself down; her face wet in the process. she so desperately tried to wipe her cheeks rid of any liquid, to avoid soaking saki’s pillow, albeit failing miserably.
reminiscences seeped into the corners of her mind, coloring her memories with the soft hues of the past. she could almost hear the quiet notes of saki’s keyboard, the tentative harmonies that had once woven through the air like a prayer. she remembered the way the older girl’s fingers moved—delicate and precise, as if the keys were the only things keeping her tethered to this cruel world.
yet, in the end, not even music had been enough.
outside, the sky had shifted from the pallor of dawn to the bleached indifference of mid-morning, clouds drifting lazily like their forgotten dreams: saki’s, to be in a band forever, and uika’s, to be with saki forever. the world continued, oblivious to the dissonance that had settled in uika’s heart.
with a shaky breath, she emerged from the futon, the cold air prickling her skin. she folded the blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles with a reverence usually reserved for sacred relics.
the untouched mug of coffee remained where she had left it, its contents congealing into bitter dregs. uika grasped it, her fingers curling around the cool ceramic as she stared into the darkened depths.
“thank you for everything.”
the words rang hollow now, a benediction turned curse. uika’s hand trembled as she poured the cold coffee down the sink, the dark liquid spiralling away into nothing but her own thoughtlessness.
with the drain’s gurgle as her only companion, uika realized that, despite everything, the world offered no solace, no reprieve—only the relentless march of time that threatened to erode the last vestiges of sakiko’s presence from her life. which, mind you, already were.
but for now, she held on—clinging to the fading scent, the empty mug, the wrinkled futon—each a fragile memento of a bond that, though severed, had once been her everything, just as saki had.