I leaned forward, the back of my arms against my thighs and my hands clasped together, hanging idly. I had to crane my neck sidewards to be able to look at Oliver directly in the eye, and by the second my body continued to work on making a statue out of itself. I had been sitting like this all throughout his talking, my indifference chiselling my appearance into an uncaring and cold acquaintance.

I was pretty sure I had begun to show my disinterest in his musings, my nods and replies of thought getting less frequent. Yet he never stopped consulting me about things better left unsaid. Better for both him and myself.

"The first time we met, I truly never cared." it was too ironic. I couldn't care any less at the moment. To me, Oliver, the child I approached on that day so I could begin my highschool life with a bang, was nothing more than a fleeting shadow, like a falling snowflake that lost its beauty when it fell. He fell amongst snow, and blended into the unattractive complexion of something that looked so clean and pure.

When he started to be like everyone else, it seemed to me as if he was now just another fresh graduate. And I, having found the wisdom that brought me back to reality, regretted having been falsely intoxicated yet fearful of his once-hollow persona. "I didn't even want to interact with you, or anyone else in class, for that matter. Or anyone else at all."

He shifted in his seat, and he began to play with the second button of his shirt. His eye was cast downwards, as if the ground had been alluring more than the greenery infront of him. Agreed, the pavement on which we step on is a pretty subject, with such stability, but the blandness of its grey tint was boring enough to make me always feel safe, unappalled.

There was nothing in the concrete that could have been anything of interest to me, not even in the old days. It was plain, yes, and had very much of a low presence, like Oliver at first. But the difference was that he had nothing at all, not even depth, nor emotion, nor an explanation for his ominous emptiness, and the pavement had stories and reasons.

He continued.

"You know why I once dreamt of going to the city?"

Ah. Here it is. It was this one hope for the future that kept me thinking why someone so uncaring incarnate would have such a shallow dream. It kept my mind going around in circles, making me wonder how his shattered frame of mind managed to form such an honest, whole and normal ambition. He was smiling bitterly at this moment, as if he was shaking his head internally at the nostalgic feeling of a dream now lost. Lost, or still in existence, I couldn't quite fathom, but the former was probably likely. I could never really make sure, and now I couldn't care less.

He launched towards me the answer to his own question like it was a ball of cotton. It fell at me, fast and heavy, though, and I felt as if I was being crushed under the pressure of a burden so heavy. It's been a long time since I've actually had any of this feeling. Especially, the days wherein I would feel goosebumps crawl up my skin at his words, they were distant, the sensation was distant, like a dream within a dream.

And yet it felt so fresh.

As if I haven't changed.

"Because I wanted to die." he chuckled, leaning back on the bench and sliding down on the seat a little so the backrest could support his head as well. I observed him merely, and as I have said a little while back I was still as a statue. With the grace of the early Greek sculptures, I didn't know, but I was sure of the fact that I was more of a victim of Medusa's. Frozen before they knew what hit them.

"Silly, I know. I wanted to go to the highest skyscraper, and jump down from there. I wanted to yell, tell everyone that I exist. It was more on convincing myself I was still physical, than actually intending to get through to anyone."

Stop.

This isn't what I—

What is this feeling?

I felt cold. Chills. Icicles stabbing my back, then slicing downwards mercilessly. It was brutal. I thought I had abandoned all things affiliated with the sense of humanity I had shed as I woke up to what really is. The icicles moved up, digging even deeper through my body, stabbing, struggling to pierce my skin on the other side.

I had stayed silent, my head throbbing, my ears growing colder than the chill of the evening. The wind attempted to slice through my limbs, but I had already turned into a statue.

Already...

"I was a child, Fukase. And I couldn't handle things on my own. My situation at home didn't help at all. I wanted to stand on top of the Tokyo Tower, or anywhere higher, whichever I would find. I wanted spectators, to find out whether or not I still existed. Whether or not Oliver still existed, if I was not merely a shell pretending to be a living human being. I wanted to find out."

i wonder.

"I wanted to find my lost soul at that time. I was confused. Was I pretending? was i being real, in regards to the fact that i could interact with people perfectly well? was i pretending to have pretended? did i simply think i was not normal, because i didn't have a clue about what normalcy really is? say... am i being too difficult to understand?"

xxx seems sad. let's tell them they're a perfectly alright as a human being.

"thanks, fukase. i really owe everything to you. if it were not because of you, i would never have seen the beauty of things far greater than what i could percieve with my eye closed. i'm glad i met you."

huh.

"i think that's enough for now. i gotta prepare myself mentally for the rest, in case i decide to back out midway. you're the only one i can truly trust with this, you know? i'll be seeing you tomorrow. bye now, i'm getting cold and sleepy. stay safe on the way home."

heavy words.