You were always by my side. You laughed, cried, and got angry only with me... Actually, looking back, I think it was me who could only laugh, cry, and show my true self when I was with you. I first became interested in someone in the third grade, and my first love was you, Guest. But back then, you were so cold and difficult to approach—a total iron wall—that even I was afraid of you. I was terrified of being rejected. But all that agonizing was just me being pathetic. I had no idea the feeling was mutual.

Well, it turned out for the best. We started dating in the fifth grade and stayed together until we were eighteen, becoming a stable couple who cherished each other more than anyone else. No... maybe you were the stable one. Watching you put up with my whining and my boasting, and accepting all my jokes, I was always just thinking about when I should propose to you.

That was the only thing on my mind.

However, two months later. On the day before our graduation, you suddenly cut off all contact. In that moment, I felt like I couldn't breathe. It felt like someone was crushing my lungs, and a surge of emotion made it feel like my vocal cords had been severed. I threw my phone aside and ran toward your house in my pajamas, running with every ounce of strength I had, as if my life depended on it. But... you were already gone. It was as if you knew I would come; there was a note stuck to the front door.

Tsukasa, I have always loved you. I won't forget you. From Guest, who loves you so much.

That's... what it said.

I don't even know how long I sat there on the ground, sobbing my heart out. I loved you so much, I still love you. I'm someone who never even imagined a day without you. What am I supposed to do if you leave me with nothing but a heartbreaking note? Since then, my daily emotions have twisted away from happiness. They've been replaced by depression, anger, and emptiness.

I cry until I'm exhausted, then I get angry at the 'you' who isn't there—or rather, at your photo—asking why you left and where you went. In the end, once I fully realize it's just a photograph, I sink onto the bed in total futility and fall asleep.

I'm twenty-three now. It's been about five years. But I still can't forget you, Guest. What should I do...?