Seven hours and fifteen days.
Seven hours and fifteen days since he left me. I came home one day after school to find him gone. My Prince was gone. And all that was left was a cold, empty space where he used to be. I was devastated. But no tears fell.
Prince has beautiful grey eyes, and hair of gold that resembled a mop. Eggs, ice-cream and cheese were his favorite. Born in May, he looked just like the start of summer. I took him for walks in the field behind my apartment, and as the wind blew, his hair blew and his eyes started to squint. And during those moments in time, his profile looked just like James Dean. He loved music too. Whenever I sat down to play the piano, he would curl up beside me, listening intently. His kisses were incredibly warm and sloppy.
But Prince was gone.
The next day, I left for school as usual, but there was no one to wish me a good day as I turned the doorknob and walked out. I shut the door, locked it, and started to cry. I cried on the way to the station, cried as I tapped by annual pass on the card reader. Cried on the platform while I was waiting for the train, and cried in the train while standing. I paid no heed to the passengers around me, but yet the group of high school girls sitting before me, clasping their elaborately decorated school bags, continued to stare intensely at my face.
"Here, you can have my seat."
A voice echoed from behind me. I turned around and traced it to a boy of about 19, who donned a white polo shirt and a blue pull over. He was so very handsome.
"Thank you."
With a mosquito-like voice from all that crying, it was the only thing I could manage to say in return. Once again, just like the school girls, this young boy stared continuously at me with his deep grey eyes without moving.
He got off at the same stop as me, the final stop, Shibuya. He followed me. I wondered why until he caught up with me, repeatingly asking if I was alright. I continued walking, ignoring him. But he was by side all the time. Little by little, I might have felt slightly comforted about Prince's absence.
"How about some coffee?", he asked.
It was mid-December and the wind was ever so strong. Only 2 weeks left till Christmas and he led me into a coffee shop decorated with a Christmas tree, topped with an angel. He looked at the menu, unable to decide.
"Is it OK if I order some ice-cream?", he asked.
"Go ahead.", I replied. And from the looks of it, he was definitely expecting me to pay for our morning meal.
"Well, looks like I'm free for the rest of the day."
I had cancelled all intentions of attending lectures. At least, not today. I deserved a break.
We took the subway and got off at Ginza where he told me he had something good to show me. We walked along the high-rise office buildings for about fifteen minutes until he stopped before a small art museum. The things it had to offer were great by any standards, even though I'd never learnt to appreciate art. And in the midst of wandering around the claustrophobic room, I noticed a painting of a temple, possible located in India.
"I really love this.", he said while pointing at the delicately painted strands of grass in front of the temple. "It looks like the start of summer."
"You're a romanticist aren't you?" I asked, while he giggled in return.
An hour later, we exited the museum and went for a traditional Japanese comedy show. Prince loved them. I would wake up to the sound of the television sometimes and find him on the floor next to the remote, gazing happily at the screen. I couldn't believe the fact that he loved things like that. It was miraculous for someone like him. Without realizing it, my tears fell again as I stared at the actor on the stage.
Prince is gone.
Prince is no longer here with me.
We stepped out from the theater when the show ended.
"The year is coming to an end, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"And next year will be a new year right?"
"Yes."
"I had a great time today."
"Me too."
I stared at my feet the entire time he was talking to me.And before I could say anything more, he lifted my chin ever so slightly and stared into my eyes.
"Until now, and forever."
He had a gaze so deep, so nostalgic as he planted a kiss on my parted lips. But what I was amazed of wasn't his kiss. But the fact that that his kissed resembled that of Prince's. And I stood there, beneath the Victorian designed streetlights, unable to say a word.
"I really, truly loved you too."
His lonely smile resembled Prince, ever so slightly.
"I came back to tell you that. Well, goodbye."
As he uttered his final words, the traffic lights turned green and he hastily turned around and disappeared before my eyes, lost in the middle of the crowd. And there I was, standing still all alone, listening to the sounds of Christmas songs broadcasted from the shops beside me.
In Ginza, the night has just begun.
Seven hours and fifteen days since he left me. I came home one day after school to find him gone. My Prince was gone. And all that was left was a cold, empty space where he used to be. I was devastated. But no tears fell.
Prince has beautiful grey eyes, and hair of gold that resembled a mop. Eggs, ice-cream and cheese were his favorite. Born in May, he looked just like the start of summer. I took him for walks in the field behind my apartment, and as the wind blew, his hair blew and his eyes started to squint. And during those moments in time, his profile looked just like James Dean. He loved music too. Whenever I sat down to play the piano, he would curl up beside me, listening intently. His kisses were incredibly warm and sloppy.
But Prince was gone.
The next day, I left for school as usual, but there was no one to wish me a good day as I turned the doorknob and walked out. I shut the door, locked it, and started to cry. I cried on the way to the station, cried as I tapped by annual pass on the card reader. Cried on the platform while I was waiting for the train, and cried in the train while standing. I paid no heed to the passengers around me, but yet the group of high school girls sitting before me, clasping their elaborately decorated school bags, continued to stare intensely at my face.
"Here, you can have my seat."
A voice echoed from behind me. I turned around and traced it to a boy of about 19, who donned a white polo shirt and a blue pull over. He was so very handsome.
"Thank you."
With a mosquito-like voice from all that crying, it was the only thing I could manage to say in return. Once again, just like the school girls, this young boy stared continuously at me with his deep grey eyes without moving.
He got off at the same stop as me, the final stop, Shibuya. He followed me. I wondered why until he caught up with me, repeatingly asking if I was alright. I continued walking, ignoring him. But he was by side all the time. Little by little, I might have felt slightly comforted about Prince's absence.
"How about some coffee?", he asked.
It was mid-December and the wind was ever so strong. Only 2 weeks left till Christmas and he led me into a coffee shop decorated with a Christmas tree, topped with an angel. He looked at the menu, unable to decide.
"Is it OK if I order some ice-cream?", he asked.
"Go ahead.", I replied. And from the looks of it, he was definitely expecting me to pay for our morning meal.
"Well, looks like I'm free for the rest of the day."
I had cancelled all intentions of attending lectures. At least, not today. I deserved a break.
We took the subway and got off at Ginza where he told me he had something good to show me. We walked along the high-rise office buildings for about fifteen minutes until he stopped before a small art museum. The things it had to offer were great by any standards, even though I'd never learnt to appreciate art. And in the midst of wandering around the claustrophobic room, I noticed a painting of a temple, possible located in India.
"I really love this.", he said while pointing at the delicately painted strands of grass in front of the temple. "It looks like the start of summer."
"You're a romanticist aren't you?" I asked, while he giggled in return.
An hour later, we exited the museum and went for a traditional Japanese comedy show. Prince loved them. I would wake up to the sound of the television sometimes and find him on the floor next to the remote, gazing happily at the screen. I couldn't believe the fact that he loved things like that. It was miraculous for someone like him. Without realizing it, my tears fell again as I stared at the actor on the stage.
Prince is gone.
Prince is no longer here with me.
We stepped out from the theater when the show ended.
"The year is coming to an end, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"And next year will be a new year right?"
"Yes."
"I had a great time today."
"Me too."
I stared at my feet the entire time he was talking to me.And before I could say anything more, he lifted my chin ever so slightly and stared into my eyes.
"Until now, and forever."
He had a gaze so deep, so nostalgic as he planted a kiss on my parted lips. But what I was amazed of wasn't his kiss. But the fact that that his kissed resembled that of Prince's. And I stood there, beneath the Victorian designed streetlights, unable to say a word.
"I really, truly loved you too."
His lonely smile resembled Prince, ever so slightly.
"I came back to tell you that. Well, goodbye."
As he uttered his final words, the traffic lights turned green and he hastily turned around and disappeared before my eyes, lost in the middle of the crowd. And there I was, standing still all alone, listening to the sounds of Christmas songs broadcasted from the shops beside me.
In Ginza, the night has just begun.
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