Chapter 1

Mari was writing notes for her next class. Well, that's what she told herself, but she was actually just doodling. Something about it always made her feel comfortable.

She drew a star. Then another. Then one more after that. She chained them up like constellations. Except really close to each other. And make a very precise spiral. Okay so maybe they're not like constellations. 

“Ah shit.”

She broke her pen again. This brand really sucks. Every time she's used it, it breaks. She just took a random pen from the drawer and-

Oh, she thought.

She looked at the pen currently in her hands. Its nib had broken off, so it wasn't gonna be useful any time soon. But in the shaft of the pen was a small piece of paper.

She unscrewed the cap at the other end of the pen and tipped it over. The piece of paper dropped on the desk.

She unfolded it. Her eyes read his message to her again, the same way they did the first time.

She noticed every detail the same way she did 2 years ago; the smudge at the end of the first line, the way he crossed out a mistake in the sentence.

The second time he said I love you, like he forgot he wrote it at the start.

She felt the butterflies in her stomach again. But she doesn't think she felt the hollow feeling in her chest right now.

She doesn't remember how she giggled and blushed the first time, because she's too overtaken by this deafening numbness that leaves her ears ringing. She gets up, and decides to find his letters again. She never did get to say I love you back.

Chapter 2

Time passed by. It always does.

Mari doesn't remember if that first rereading was a week ago, or two, or a month ago, but she couldn't get it off her mind. I mean, of course she couldn't. Who could?

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She was always writing, but since nothing else could fill her mind, she wrote of him. She wrote to him. Everything she wanted to say. Everything she didn't want to say.

Her room was littered with the words she needed to get out of her mind, papers strewn across the floor. All messages for one person, not a single one he will read. Letters she couldn't send. 

Mari doesn't remember if that first letter was written a week ago, or two, or a month ago, but she was still writing.

—

She was looking for another blank sheet of paper, when something caught her eye. It was a letter, above the cabinet of stationery items.

Her hand took it. The paper looked like it was between his 6th and 13th letter, but the darkness of the ink looks like it's the 8th.

She looked at the writing on the paper. Wait, this doesn't make sense. He never wrote about… wait-

So then- is this- did she somehow lose one? But no she wouldn't- So what- But- How did she only see this now?!

She was hyperventilating. Her mind ran down the letters he sent. This didn’t fit. This isn't his, this isn't his, this isn't-

Oh. This is one of hers.

She wrote about how he reminded her of the ginger plants her mother grew.

Oh. It was one of hers. 

Chapter 3

Time passed by. It always does.

But if she thinks really hard, then at least it almost feels like how it was. When she was still with him, I mean. She means.

If she closed her eyes, she could imagine what he looked like. His hair, his eyes, his smile. God, his smile.

She could remember his mannerisms too. How he tapped the table with his fingers. How he scrunched up his eyebrows whenever he was confused, but still kept his smile on, just to let you know he's trying. How he called her name…

His voice sounded so… so…

…

I can't remember his voice.

—

Mari would dream of him. It was horrible. It felt as real as it wasn't. She would remember everything in the dream. Memorize the details of his face. She would never forget anything about him again.

She could never touch him in the dream. Whenever she tried, it was as if it would take forever to reach his hand, reaching out to hold her. Then she would wake up.

The class was boring. He reached up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He looked at me and smiled. I wasn't paying attention either.

I saw the mischievous glint in his eyes. He tilted his head towards the door.

“We can't leave,” I said, objecting even though I really wanted to run away with him.

He held out his hand.

“I can't,” I replied, “I'll just wake up again.”

She reached for his hand anyway. Expecting forever to come to her.

She jumped in surprise when she felt her fingers touch the palm of his hand.

Her heart was beating so fast.

She opened her eyes…

He was still there.

She held his hand, holding one in both of hers.

She turned it over, inspecting it.

“I can't believe this is happening,” she looked up at him, and flinched.

Someone opened the door and there was a light behind him, how annoying. Well, at least you could see the way his dark hair looked slightly brown. God, even his hair is silly. She loved every part of him. One time, he- 

Wait, hold on, this is wrong. He's blond.

His hair changed back to what it's supposed to be.

“Okay there.”

She blinked. It was dark. She was in bed. She'd woken up. That wasn't real.

Someone was looking at her desk. Oh, it's 

“Cyrus?” she asked.

He turned around, “uh yeah. Just looking for something.”

“Oh,” she said slowly, her mind was hazy, wait, so was it-,

“I thought…”

Why would it be real…

She looked at the figure, whose attention was at the desk again, “I thought…”