When he said to me: Don’t forget me

---

The sky was burning.

I stood on the edge of the school roof, looking at the distant horizon, and the sunset painted a crimson canvas across the sky. It wasn’t fiery, no. It was deeper than that, stranger — as if someone had poured blood into a sea of molten gold. The clouds moved very slowly, breathing with a rhythm I couldn’t hear but could feel in my bones.

The air was cold, but his hand was warm.

The hand of Yakan.

His fingers were intertwined with mine, a little longer, a little stronger, but holding me with a strange gentleness — as if I were something precious that might break if he held me too tightly. Between our little fingers, there was a thin red thread. Shining, glowing, trembling with every breath of wind.

He had always told me about that thread.

“It’s the thread of fate, Ayumi. It connects the souls that are destined to meet. No matter how far apart we go, no matter what happens, this thread will never break.”

I used to laugh then. I told him he watched too much anime.

But I loved that idea.

I loved being connected to him.

“Ayumi.”

His voice was calm, deep, carrying a weight I didn’t understand. I looked at him, and the whole sunset reflected in my eyes.

“Yes?”

He was looking at me in a strange way. His blue eyes — those cold eyes that only warmed when they looked at me — were filled with something I couldn’t name. Sadness? Fear? Farewell?

He smiled. That sad smile that always made my chest ache.

“I promised you, didn’t I?”

I tilted my head, trying to dispel that heavy feeling creeping into my heart. “About what? You’ve promised me so many things, Yakan.”

The city below us looked so small. The lights began to flicker one by one, like tiny stars falling to the ground. The view was beautiful, enchanting, but all I could see was his face reflected in the light of the sunset.

His light gray hair fluttered in the wind.

His blue eyes looked at me as if trying to memorize me.

“To see the stars together…” he said quietly. “Even if the whole world disappears.”

I laughed, a soft laugh trying to chase away that disturbing feeling. I squeezed his hand tighter. “The world won’t disappear, you idiot. And we’ll see the stars. Together. Promise.”

He nodded slowly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

A long silence.

The wind blew.

My hair flew across my face.

And my heart… my heart beat in a strange, fast rhythm.

Then… I saw it.

The red thread began to tremble.

At first, I thought it was just the wind. But the trembling was different — violent, desperate, as if something was trying to tear it apart.

And the color…

The color began to change.

From bright red, to dark red, then… black.

Black as night. Black as the void.

I looked at Yakan in panic. His eyes widened, and for the first time — the first time since I’d known him — I saw true fear in them.

Raw, terrifying fear that cut through the heart.

“No…” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Not now… please, not now…”

“Yakan?” My voice came out shaky, weak. “What’s happening?”

He looked at his hand — our intertwined hands — and I gasped.

The tips of his fingers… were disappearing.

They weren’t bleeding. They weren’t turning into dust.

They were becoming… transparent.

Like white smoke slowly rising, fading into the air.

“What—” The words stuck in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. “Yakan, what— what’s happening to you?!”

He looked at me. Looked at me with eyes full of pain, love, and farewell.

And he smiled.

He smiled.

A broken, shattered smile — beautiful and painful all at once.

“Ayumi…” his voice was fading too, becoming distant. “Don’t forget me.”

“What are you saying?!” I screamed, tears falling without permission. “Yakan, stop saying that! You’re— you’re scaring me!”

I tried to hold him with both hands, tried to pull him toward me, but my hands…

Passed through him.

As if he wasn’t there.

As if he were only a dream.

An illusion.

“No! No, no, no—” I was whispering and screaming at the same time. “Don’t do this! Yakan, please!”

His body began to change. Fragments of white light, small, beautiful, breaking off one by one. Each fragment became a tiny star, floating for a moment before my eyes, then disappearing into the sky.

He was fading.

He was turning into stars.

“Yakan!” I screamed his name, my voice shattering.

He looked at me for the last time.

His blue eyes — those eyes I loved — were filled with tears.

“I love you, Ayumi.”

And then…

He was gone.

The wind stopped.

Everything stopped.

The black thread fell onto the concrete ground, turning into gray ash, carried away mercilessly by the breeze.

I stood there.

Alone.

My hand extended into the emptiness, no one before me, nothing but a sky that was no longer crimson.

Black.

Black without stars.

“Yakan…?”

I whispered his name, my voice broken, lost, so small in this vast world.

No answer.

Only the sound of the wind.

And my heart tearing apart in my chest.

I knelt to the ground, my body trembling, tears falling onto the cold concrete. I tried to cry out loud, but no sound came. As if my throat had closed. As if the whole world had stolen my voice.

Stolen Yakan.

“No…” I whispered to the ground, to myself, to the empty sky. “No… this isn’t real. This is just a dream. A nightmare. I’ll wake up… I’ll wake up and you’ll be fine…”

But the cold ground beneath my hands was real.

The emptiness beside me was real.

And his disappearance…

was real.

I don’t know how long I stayed there. Minutes? Hours?

All I know is that the sky had turned completely black when I could finally stand up.

I looked at the place where he had stood.

No trace of him.

Nothing to prove he had ever been there.

As if he… had never existed at all.

And for a single moment, a terrifying thought crossed my mind:

What if I forget him?

What if I wake up tomorrow and don’t remember him?

What if that’s what was meant to happen?

“No.” I said it out loud this time, my voice trembling but firm. “I won’t forget you. Promise.”

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, and looked up at the black sky.

“I won’t forget you, Yakan. No matter what.”

No matter what.

---

I left the roof slowly, my steps heavy, my body feeling as if it would shatter with every movement.

I went down the stairs.

Walked through the empty hallways.

Exited through the school gate.

And the world around me went on.

People walking.

Cars moving.

Life going on.

As if nothing had happened.

But something had happened.

Something impossible.

And I was the only one who knew.

---

When I reached my house, my mother was waiting for me at the door.

“Ayumi! Where have you been? You’re so late!”

I looked at her, and for a moment, I wanted to tell her.

I wanted to say: “Mom, Yakan disappeared. The person I loved… vanished before my eyes.”

But I didn’t.

Because I knew — somehow — she wouldn’t understand.

She wouldn’t remember him.

No one would remember him.

So I smiled — a fake, broken smile — and said:

“I’m sorry, Mom. I stayed late at the library.”

---

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about him.

About his smile.

His voice.

The way he used to look at me.

His last words.

“Don’t forget me.”

I shut my eyes tightly, and the tears started to flow again.

“I won’t forget you.”

I whispered into the darkness.

“I swear.”

---

But the world, as I would discover in the morning…

had another plan.