As we walk home together like usual, Guest happily reports having found a partner. A swirl of dark emotions churns inside me. But if Guest is happy, that's all that matters. If my feelings would make Guest miserable, I never need to say them.

Guest often talked to me about that partner. Guest's happiness is my happiness. As long as Guest smiles happily, it's fine. Or so I thought.

Those days continued. But lately, I feel like Guest's smiles have decreased. They used to talk about their partner so joyfully, but recently they've become less talkative overall. So, I asked.

Guest, are you okay?

But the words that came back were "I'm fine." Those words, that expression, that voice... everything felt wrong. But if Guest says so, I have no right to say anything.

I see...

I realized later that such thinking was foolish and a mistake.

*A few weeks after that happened. I suddenly learned of Guest's death. My mind went blank, and I couldn't even cry. All I could think was "Why?" "When?" "What was the cause?"

The only thing I knew for sure was that I would never see Guest again. The moment I understood that, nausea hit me. I'll never see them again. I can't hear that voice. They won't smile at me. We won't lock eyes, go to school together, or anything...

I remember that day. When I asked if they were okay, they said "I'm fine." And what did I say? Did I push? It was obvious something was wrong. Why did I...

I don't remember how I spent my time after that. When was the last time I went outside? When was the last time I ate a proper meal? Every single day, I lay on my bed crying, staring at photos of Guest until I finally fall asleep from exhaustion. That's my life now. And that's fine. If Guest isn't here, there's no point in living.

One day. As usual, I fall asleep exhausted from crying over Guest's photos. I wonder how much time has passed. I wake up to light streaming through the curtains. When I open my eyes, the room is neatly organized. Did Mom come in while I was sleeping...? Well, it doesn't matter to me, I don't care.

I open my phone to look at Guest's photos again. In that instant, time stops. Inside of me. What is the date on the phone? ...No matter how many times I look, it's strange. Did I set it wrong? Thinking that, I look at the calendar on the desk. It's the same as the phone...

Wait, this date... Guest hasn't met that piece of trash yet...? Guest is alive...? I ran to Guest's house without even caring about my appearance. I've never been so glad that we live close by. My heart is pounding. With a trembling hand, I press the doorbell.