Casablanca

What could I say?
What could I do about it?
Nothing.

In the end, I was the one responsible for the pain she felt.
If I hadn’t spent time with her.
If I hadn’t pretended everything was 'normal.'
If I hadn’t let her into my life.
If I hadn’t dragged her along with me all this time.
If I had died back then…

Those words, her tears—I was never good at 'holding' someone through a breaking point. I never cared to be. But now, those words were all it took to make me wish I had died.

I just held her tighter, as if that would do anything, but she felt like nothing more than a doll—motionless, fixed in place.
I wanted—no, I needed—her arms to wrap around me too, so I could feel, even just this once, like I wasn’t completely useless.

Not all wishes come true. That’s something no one says but everyone knows, and it’s fine until it isn’t. Because in that moment, in those exact seconds as I clung to her, I knew that deep inside, she was feeling someone, somewhere in the world, taking their own life.

Her teasing, her anger, her tantrums, that childish attitude—she maintained that personality while carrying all that weight inside her.

[Sorry for saying I knew you.]

I lifted her face, trying to seem calm, though I was far from it.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something. I hate to say it, but I wanted to cry too, though that wouldn’t help—it would only make things worse.

“Aranara…” I said, trying to get her to meet my eyes. That yellow glow seemed to shine against how red they were. “Y-you remember the DVDs, right? Which one’s your favorite?”

“…”

“Aranara…” I repeated, taking her by the shoulders.

I’m sure if the bags on the ground had consciousness, they’d be laughing at me.
I hated the silence.
I hated the empty street.
I hated the lack of wind.
I hated that nothing interrupted this moment.

[Lie. It’s myself I’m hating.]

I hated the time with her, the everyday routine.
I hated letting her get close.
I hated getting close to her too.

[Lie. It’s myself I hate.]

“I don’t know, Eiji… what does it matter?” she replied, lifting her arm to wipe her tears, only for them to reappear seconds later.

“Come on… just tell me… you watched them all. Which one did you like best?” I asked again, trying to sound as enthusiastic as I could. I probably failed.

“It was an old movie… black and white…” she said softly, her voice still breaking, tears returning as fast as she wiped them.

“What was it about?”

“What does it matter now, Eiji?! Enough!” Her hand on my chest was heavier than I expected, pushing me back several steps.

Was I supposed to leave her alone?
Was this something she had to sort out herself?
Probably yes.
Surely no.

“Thousands of years, and you can’t remember a movie?” I let some sarcasm slip as I stepped closer again. “Today, I think you’re the real idiot.”

“I want to punch you.”

“Do it.”

“No…”

“Either hit me or tell me about the movie.”

“Why…?”

“Why not?” She exhaled sharply. She wasn’t lying—she wanted to hit me. “I didn’t finish it. I turned off the TV when I heard you coming down the stairs… it was about a guy, a bar owner…”

“Don’t think I’ve seen it…” I said, pretending.

“How have you not seen it?”

[That’s it, please, keep talking to me.]

“The… the bar owner reunites with his lover, but time’s passed, and she’s married…” She furrowed her brow, recalling the movie.

[Please, don’t stop talking to me…]

“I don’t remember well, but I think it was missing part two…”

“Part two?”

“Yeah, at the end, the bar owner lets his lover escape on a plane with her husband… I think they cut a part…”

“Casablanca?” I asked, letting out an involuntary laugh.

“I… I think so…” she replied, fixing her hair as best she could and adjusting her parka.

“I can’t believe that’s your favorite movie…”

“I liked it a lot. I just want to see the second part…”

“Aranara… Casablanca doesn’t have a sequel.” I picked up the bags from the ground and placed them in her hands. She didn’t move much, just enough to hold them.

“So the bar owner doesn’t get back with his lover?”

“Nope…”

“Horrible.”

“Honestly, yeah.”

“I’m gonna break that DVD.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

Her breathing slowly steadied. It was clear we were both trying our best.
But now wasn’t like before. I couldn’t pretend the weight she carried didn’t exist.

“I’m gonna do it anyway. It’s the worst ending in the history of cinema.”

I laughed genuinely. If the director could hear her… “Why?”

“Because… you know, they… even when nothing was resolved…”

“I think I get what you mean…”I didn’t think—because if I had, I probably wouldn’t have done it.

Aranara was pressed against the wall, and I’d gotten too close. Her face felt warm, with a faint salty scent from her tears.
I think it was the first time I touched her cheeks, and honestly, I was surprised by how soft her skin was.

“E-Eiji… what…”

Her lips were even softer.
No, I didn’t kiss her to shut her up. I did it because I wanted to, because though I’d never said it, it wasn’t the first time I’d thought about it.

It felt like being at the movies—not a movie itself, but that moment when you’re in the theater, the film’s about to start, and all the lights go out.
Our lips parted when I heard the bags drop to the ground.

It might sound cliché, but the image of her with her eyes still closed is something I’ll probably remember until my last day.

“It was supposed… to…”

“Happen when everything was resolved?” I asked, pulling my face back just a bit.

“Mhm…” She nodded.

“If people saved kisses for when everything’s fine… I don’t think anyone would ever kiss, dummy.” I took the house keys from my pocket and placed them in her hand. “Sayo’s probably waiting at home. I told her I’d make space for her… and I bet she’s fuming by now. Can you handle that?”

“Huh?”

“Just a small favor,” I said, stepping back and turning around.

“Eiji… where are you going?” She tried to grab my arm, but I’d already taken a step.

“Forgot something on the way. Just gonna grab it.”

“Eiji…”

“Just go home.”

“I know what you’re thinking…”

“Not even close.”

“Seriously, idiot, come here now.”

“Sorry, but no.”

Even from a distance, her hand still reached for me.

“I’m not sure about a lot of things, Aranara… but I figured something out… wanting to die is boring, so…” I scratched my neck again, but this time, the tic wasn’t from anxiety—it was because I didn’t know how to go on. “…Here’s looking at you, kid.”

I didn’t hear what she said back.
I probably sounded more idiotic than cool.
I probably broke some copyright saying it, but still, I wanted to sound cool.

The streets opened up again. I had an idea—not a certainty—but it felt like the streetlights were turning on to show me exactly where to go.
My mind bounced between what had happened and what was to come, and like an idiot, I kept touching my lips.
I should’ve kissed her ages ago.

I found myself walking straight to the bridge, and there she was, probably waiting.
That gray coat stood out against the darkness of the bridge’s metal.