This was a dream, wasn’t it? One that was doomed from the beginning. Yet here you were, leaning your back against Satoru’s chest as you watched the gray clouds engulf the mournful beach. His hands ran through your dark hair soothingly like he’d done the night before that fated day. The day you wish hadn’t happened.

You still remember when your eyes fell onto the cruel sight of his lifeless body like it was yesterday, the only thing providing you with desperate closure being the letter he’d written for you in advance. In advance; as if he’d known there was a chance he might not come back home to the face he’d grown to love so much.

This wasn’t healthy in the slightest — having dreams about him, talking to him in those dreams as if he was still alive and breathing next to you — but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Not when you began to forget how his warm embrace shielded you from the cold December nights.

You held on so desperately as if hoping he’d appear on your doorstep again like he always did. He promised, didn’t he?