The door opened.

I’m taken aback for a moment and can feel myself losing my nerve. Now, that’s not to say that I didn’t expect it to open. It’s opened every other time I’ve come here. No, it’s more that I was hoping it wouldn’t open. That would at least free me from the uncertainty about what I should do that I find myself confronted with every time I end up standing here, dumbfounded in front of a half-open door. This isn’t the first time I’ve ended up in front of this door, my weakly bound courage seeping away. I sigh. This also won’t be the last. I barely catch a glimpse of the inside of the room as I slowly close the door without a sound, walking away, tracing the footsteps I’ve nearly etched in the ground from all my previous failed efforts.

“Maybe next time,” I say quietly. The words escaped my mouth and form small clouds, slowly dissipating into the cold. I say them, but by now even I’m not convinced there’s any truth to them.

****

I hate that look she has. She keeps watching me with a bemused curiosity as I put my bag up and grab my books for the day, desperately trying to ignore her. This is easier said than done when you’re sitting right next to the person and you’ve known her for many years. I don’t know why we have to go through this same routine, anyway. If she already thinks I failed, can’t we just get on with the day and pretend nothing happened?

“Makoto?”, I hear the teacher calling names and continue to sift through my pencils in a vain attempt to look busy. She calls again, “Makoto!”. Someone isn’t paying attention. Finally, Ikari, whom I’ve been so dutifully ignoring until now, makes eye contact with me.

“The teacher’s talking to you,” she says with a smile.

“What? I’m not… right.” Two months into the semester and the teacher still doesn’t remember my name. I slowly raise my hand and watch as she shakes her head in dismay before continuing to call off other students’ names.

“So, did you do it?” she asks with more than idle curiosity, as if she really can’t guess the answer.

“Of course I did.” I try to say it as nonchalantly as possible while idly chewing on the eraser of my pencil. She seems more amused now, as if we’re playing a game of cat and mouse.

“Really? How did it go? That’s so cool! Shouldn’t you look more excited? Anyway, I never thought…”, Ikari drones on as I set my head on my desk in resignation. She doesn’t say anything for awhile before finally speaking up again, “How far did you make it this time?”

“To the door.” I try to sound like this is an achievement, but it isn’t really. I’ve done this many times before, and I haven’t yet walked in.

“One day, you’ll walk through. When you do, things will be moving so fast that they’ll practically happen on their own. You just need to take that first step, you know. Right now you’re just practicing.” She says the last part with a smile and the familiar quirk of the head she seems to be in the habit of doing when she’s trying to be helpful.

I try to smile and nod, and maybe even look confident. I’m not sure how well I pull it off. “You’re probably right,” I say. I open my mouth to continue, but the bell rings before I can start. Ikari looks over and mouths that we’ll talk more at lunch. I’m not really sure what else there is to talk about, but I agree anyway. To me, it feels like we’re talking about the very epic decisions that begin and end lives, but she acts as if this is all carefree, that these are the kinds of decisions you make every day. I don’t know which one of us is crazy. I think it might be both.

***

“Ever think you’re too serious?”

I look up from my food when I feel a hand on my shoulder and reply, “What? No. That’s not it. I just know how to appreciate what the risks are in life. Maybe you’re just too carefree.”

Ikari is what some would call eccentric, or maybe eclectic, depending on how you look at her. By her looks and grades, she’s fairly average. She’s somewhat tall, or at least taller than me, has short, dark-brown hair and deep, nearly black eyes. She is quite pretty, but not the sort people make paintings of. Her grades would be great if she tried, but despite the fact that she’s so naturally brilliant, she doesn’t seem to want to invest any time into her school work, instead just spending all of her free time on her hobbies. Despite that, she still manages to pass all her classes with average grades. I’ve always admired that about her.

In the years I’ve known her, I haven’t seen her wear the same style of clothing for more than 3 months at a time, the same with the types of music she listens to. She picks up and drops hobbies so fast that I rarely know what she’s interested in. But despite being flighty and often strange, she’s still the person I can rely on most and has been a great addition to my life.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But I wasn’t always like this. I just decided that I was tired of worrying about everything.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I changed.” Ikari simply shrugs and starts picking at her food. I wait for a moment longer to see if she’ll continue, but she obviously doesn’t have any plans to do so.

“You can’t just do that!”, I counter. How could she make it sound so simple, so easy?

She looks back and smiles, trying to lighten the mood. “I can and I did. I was tired of being who I was. Don’t you want to be happy?”

“Yes, but…”, I carry on, not sure what to say. I hate ending it like this, practically admitting defeat, but I just don’t know how to put it into words, how to say that I both long for and fear change from the depths of my being. “Nothing comes free. Sometimes you don’t know what the price you’ll pay is until it’s too late.

“When you start giving things up, you don’t always know what it is you’re giving away, or even what you had, until you stop and look. Maybe it is important, but I don’t know if everything’s worth it to just give up and toss away. It might not be perfect, but is everything that disposable?”

Ikari doesn’t reply for awhile, chewing slowly at her food. “Maybe you’re comfortable being sad. Maybe it’s not that you actually have anything worth hanging onto, but you’re afraid of what life would be like without it. You hold onto it because it’s what’s defined you up until now and you think you’ll lose yourself if you let it go.”

Her words sting, but I can’t argue with her. I probably would’ve said the same things, but without the same negative spin on it. Was that a negative spin, anyway, or just the way it is? I don’t know anymore. I look between Ikari and the ground; her head slightly quirked, though devoid of any smile this time, and the patterned floor. Neither seems to have the answer I want, so I just sigh instead.

“Don’t give up. You’ll do it eventually, you know. You just have to find that reason you need to give you an extra push to pursuing what you want. Good or bad, all I know is this: You won’t stay like this forever.”

“But is happiness really behind a door?”, I feign a slightly puzzled look as I finally meet her eyes once again.

She reaches out and pats my head. “In your case, most definitely. You just need to go through it, silly.”

***

Ikari wanted to go to a coffee shop and then wander around to do some shopping after classes, since they’re finally over for the week, but I didn’t feel up to it and made up some excuse about having to be home for some reason or another. Instead of stopping at the train station, I kept walking and came to the park, coming to rest at the swings. For some reason or another, I’ve had this same habit since I was young. When I feel lost and alone, I always go to the park, usually a remote place where I can sit alone and watch the world live around me. It seems depressing, but it seems to feed in on itself and I always seem to feel better eventually, if I sit and watch long enough.

I can almost hear Ikari’s nagging in my head. She’d tell me that I don’t participate in the world and I let it live around me. She’s probably right. Then again, she’s almost always right.

It’s always the people closest to you that you always overlook. Or maybe you just know better and think you should overlook them, because you don’t want to lose them later on.

That’s the way it’s been between Ikari and me for practically the entire time we’ve known each other. It’s never official, we never talk about it, but there’s an on-again, off-again tension that runs between us. It’s almost funny, in a painfully bitter kind of way, how life works out like that. I can tell that she has strong feelings for me, and I’d love to come running to her arms, but I pretend to not notice. Holding up her end of the bargain, she doesn’t press the issue. I guess this is just to make our lives simpler. Or mine, at least, and she’s probably respecting that. If I never make that step, I never have to risk what I already have.

Ikari says she’d do anything to be happy, but she so quickly puts herself to the side for my well-being. Even if she will ultimately get herself hurt, she seems to have no regard for that with the things she does for me, which is something I can’t understand. How can she say that happiness is paramount to her, yet throw it all to the side on a whim because of me? Doesn’t this make her sad? Shouldn’t she pursue happiness, like she says she does?

These are all questions I’d love to ask, but I know I’ll never get to. Looking over children playing gaily , not a concern in the world, while their mothers watch on, I wonder where my life and my priorities really are. Yet again, I wish I could be Ikari.

I had seen her crying only once, a few years ago, and I told her this. I told her that she could overcome it, because she’s such an amazing person. I wished that I could be even remotely like her. She laughed slightly, choked through the sobs. “The last person I’d ever want to be,” she said, “is me.”

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand her.

***

Cool metal. My heart rate accelerates.

It turns. I breathe deeper.

The latch recedes. My mind races.

The door opens. I panic.

A voice calls out from inside. I close the door.

The latch slides back into place. I step back.

The metal slips away. My clammy hands meet the open air.

“Next time…”, I whisper my quiet promise to the darkness.

It doesn’t reply, but it never does. I start retracing the familiar steps back to my small apartment, my heart still racing and my head spinning. The cold’s almost biting now as I walk home, exhaling my disgust and self-doubts in short puffs that quickly disappear into the night, but I hardly notice. This time of night, with emotions running high, you just don’t seem to notice the cold of the world around you.

***

In my bed, I’m not sure if I’m waiting to get to sleep or if I’ve just woken up. The difference seems nearly indistinguishable anyway. Without dreaming, you lose track of what state you’re in. Maybe you’re awake, or maybe you’re asleep. The sun comes up so late, you have no idea what time it is, so nothing seems to have changed. Every night, I come home and stay up doing my homework as late as possible, sometimes even delaying it intentionally, before going back to the bedroom and conceding myself to this limbo.

While here, I think about anything and everything. Usually questions I can’t answer. What is the meaning to life? Where am I going? What should I do? These things flit across the mind in rapid succession, like images coming in and out of focus. Never blurry enough to be unrecognizable, but never clear enough to be able to read the fine writing. Eventually, I finally manage to strain enough and discover an answer, to reach a critical understanding of these issues that haunt my life, but shortly thereafter, sleep always seems to take me away, washing my mind of my discoveries I had made.

By the time I awaken, I never really know if I truly did come to an epiphany or if this is just a fanciful belief that comes out of half-dreaming. I keep a notepad next to me bed for this reason. Maybe someday I’ll reach over and write down my realizations before I lose them.

“Maybe someday…”, I hear the familiar words come out through the darkness of my room, from somewhere far away. I probably said it, but I don’t remember. I’m not aware of the world around me at this point anymore. I could be awake, or I could be asleep. It’s hard to say.

***

I walk into class, looking down and trying to not make myself noticeable, waiting to hear the familiar speech from Ikari. Finally, upon sitting down and glancing up, I notice that she’s not there in her desk. She’s always early, except for the days when she simply doesn’t come at all. I’ve only asked once, but she never answered why she sometimes doesn’t show up for school or other engagements. It’s something I’ve always wanted to know, but for some reason or another, you never really press it. You feel like maybe it’s something that shouldn’t be talked about and maybe you should just let it go. Usually, these are choices you come to regret later in life. When you were still close, still capable of doing something, you don’t. These are the attitudes you have when there are an infinite tomorrows. You always have one more day that you can put your problems off to, except for the day that you die. We just hope that we got the most important things done by then.

“Shio?”, I look up and notice the teacher looking at me. I’m still not sure where she gets these different names from, but I nod and state that I’m present anyway.

Since Ikari isn’t here to do it, I chastise myself for not going through with it again last night. She does it so much better than I, mostly likely due to the fact that she doesn’t accept excuses and has just the right amount of correction in her replies. Or maybe it’s because I know I’m going to do it again and don’t have faith in myself like she does. I don’t even know why she still has faith in me anymore. I figure that someday I’ll finally go about doing it, even if not for me, but so I can finally stop letting her down. I’ve always thought that she might know this, and that’s why has such high hopes for me. I might actually get around to doing something if it’s not just me I’m disappointing. It’s remarkably easy to disappoint and forgive yourself, but there are added pressures when you’re pulling other people in.

What a strange girl she is…

***

After classes, I end up walking the streets, trying to work myself up to taking the crucial steps to cross the threshold and finally enter the door. Being lost in my head, I don’t pay attention to where my feet take me. I eventually find myself in a convenience store, buying some ice cream.

“You’re stalling”, I can hear her chiding words echo through my head. Honestly, I sometimes wonder if she actually exists or if she’s just a part of my imagination. Even my own mind seems to act like her sometimes and plays the devil’s advocate, seemingly just to get me to push myself along. You know someone must be close to you when they’re with you even when they’re not around.

I half-smile, my mind briefly playing over the possibility of just being spontaneous for once, doing something flashy and fun. Maybe I could stop by her house and see her, come by with something nice. She’d be happy to see me, I’m sure, and maybe we could just sit there for awhile and be close, like it should be. It’d be fun. I’d like to see where it could go from there, to finally do something outside the box, something that I haven’t planned and structured.

I’d like to, but I know I won’t. The smile slowly fades as I nod slightly to the woman behind the counter and pay for the ice cream, making my way outside.

I just can’t be that spontaneous person and I can’t do something on a whim. I can’t just live life. I want everything to be squared away. Before I even start moving forward, I want promises, assurances that it will work out. I guess I’ll just never be one of the fun, interesting people that are filled with life.

Shaking my head, trying to clear it of all these thoughts, I look down the street I need to turn on if I intend to reach my goal.

“Not yet,” I whisper, and turn another direction, deciding to go for another walk around the block.

***

A firm grasp on the handle. I steady my feet.

Testing, it seems loose. My mouth is dry.

It slides back, smoothly. I’m only dimly aware of my environment.

Pull back, hard. I’m suddenly numb.

The door’s open in front of me, my figure outlined in the doorway. I vaguely hear the bustling inside. An attendant behind the desk, seemingly a world away, smiles at me and asks if I need anything. I’m at the cusp of the world, the cold, wintry air at my back and the artificially heated air washing over my front. I’m so close. I can taste it. I can… not do this.

My heart is suddenly taken by fear. Almost against my will, I shake my head and smile, quickly turning and taking the door handle, pulling it closed as I turn back into the street. I feel ill, disorientated. I walk quickly, trying to put distance between myself and the building, to make it less and less possible for me to turn around and go back in. I want to, but I can’t. This isn’t as easy as she says. This isn’t just a matter of walking through a door. My future is going to change. I like my life how it is. I can’t just throw everything to the wind, can I?

I walk away quickly, not bothering to go along the same path I usually take. Defeated once more, I don’t even bother to whisper the words that come so easily to me. I probably won’t make it next time. I don’t even know if there will be a next time.

***

Somehow, I ended up in my apartment. Things are left in disarray, from when I ran about trying to keep my mind busy, starting many different chores and finishing none. My homework’s finished, but I can’t guarantee if any of it is done well.

I’m in bed now, either looking at the roof or with my eyes closed. I don’t know which. It’s too dark to tell the difference anyway. My mind wanders as it usually does, but to more practical matters this time. Do I want to go through with this or not? Yes… and no. Why can’t I do it? Because I’m afraid. Many people would be happy to be in this position, but I agonize about it and am held back with fear. I roll onto my side and look to the side. I think my eyes are open.

My parents moved abroad away several years ago. Just recently, they’ve gotten things ready, and I was accepted at a university near where they live. Once this semester, I’m supposed to begin at this university in another country. All I need to do is go in and buy my plane tickets. Everything else is ready, but I can’t do it. I have many reasons why, but I can’t say whether any of them are true or if they’re convenient ways to keep me from moving forward. I’ve been going there nearly every day for over a week now, but have never had any success. This is what I wanted most when I was young. I begged my parents to take me with them when they left. Now that it’s almost a reality, I feel ill. It’s a dream I never expected to come true, which made it safe to wish for.

Just like Ikari said, I’m too content to live with what I have, even if it may not be good. Like my relationship with her, I’m content to let it sit instead of pushing it to become anything else. I know if I leave here, I’ll never be able to return. I’ll have to give up everything and everyone I know. This is what puzzles me about her. She pushes me so hard to go, but we both know that if I do, it will mean an end to us, to our friendship, or whatever you want to call it. She’s looked me in the eyes before, with that same usual smile and quirk of her head, and told me that happiness was the most important thing to her, and she’d to anything for it. I never thought about it before, but she never said whose happiness she was referring to.

I hear a buzz from somewhere. Is it morning already? I hate never knowing if I slept or not, the alarm just comes out of nowhere. I reach over and fumble with several of the buttons, but notice that it’s nowhere near time to wake up. It’s still the middle of the night. This must mean that it’s my phone. I pad over and check it, the screen still glowing sharply in the darkness, making it almost too bright to read:

Come meet me in the park, where we used to hang out. I want to talk. It’s

important. Don’t tell me you’re not awake.

I consider sending her a reply, but I figure she’s too stubborn to want to listen anyway. Hurriedly, I get dressed and gather my things. I barely remember to grab my jacket next to the door. I make my way out of the building and onto the street, realizing how empty it is out here at night. She’s spontaneous, interesting. Why can’t I be like that? I know there’s no good answer, so I don’t bother dwelling on it as I start down the street. It’s at least a half-hour walk. Hopefully she’s not out there already, waiting in the cold. I wouldn’t put it past her, though.

***

Ten minutes away, I walk faster, lost in wonderment and trying to figure out what it is that she wants to tell me. I’ve reread her message over and over, trying to find some hint of what she could be getting at. My heart is alight, but scared. I don’t know what she wants, and this is both frightening and energizing. Either way, I’m in a hurry to get there to learn what it is she has to say. A small smile forms as I move across another street. I walk freely and carelessly, my mind focused entirely on the task at hand. Walking through the city at night, you almost have free reign, no longer constrained to the movements of the crowd around you.

Walking across the next street, eyes drawn to the ground, I hear something loud, pushing its way through my thoughts, demanding attention. Looking to the side, I see a man moving in my direction, yelling something. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, but this only seems to make him angry as he interprets it as defiance. He walks closer and pulls a gun out of his jacket, his hands shaking and uneasy, as he repeats himself. He wants all my money.

I stand there dumbfounded for a moment, until he jerks the gun in my direction again. One hand clutching onto me phone, still displaying Ikari’s message, I ruffle around in my jacket pockets for money. I offer the change and he yanks it out of my hands. He looks nervous as he looks over his shoulder. He jabs the gun towards me again and demands jewelry, but I reply that I don’t have any. I forgot that I was wearing the necklace Ikari gave me for my birthday.

He reaches forward for it. I grab at his hand. He yanks back. The muzzle of the gun flashes brilliantly in the dark. He looks shocked. So do I.

The bullet hits with amazing force, the whole world moving in slow motion. Through the exquisite pain, brief images flash before me. I see a variety of family members and friends I’ve known through the years. I remember good times and bad, parties I’ve attended and arguments I’ve been in. Someone far away screams. Me, maybe? I feel a rush of panic, not concerned about my own safety, but about Ikari. I was supposed to meet her tonight. How am I going to see her now? I’ve disappointed her so many times in my life, I can’t imagine doing it to her again.

I can see a man looking down at me. He looks worried, so I try to smile to reassure him. I’m not sure if it works or not. I clutch tightly onto my phone, wishing I could contact her. I want to tell her I’ll be late. My eyes slowly drift closed and I think about all the things I have to do tomorrow. I’ve been saving a lot for tomorrow, but now I’m all out of tomorrows. I hope Ikari won’t be disappointed, that I never lived up to being the person she had so much faith in me being. I guess I’m just not that strong after all.

Things slip away one by one, from feeling to nearly all other sensations. My thoughts start getting cyclical as I can’t concentrate well enough to begin or end a new thought. Even that ends eventually as it slips away as well. I hold onto Ikari for as long as I can, until there’s nothing left of me to hold onto anymore.

***

Ikari is standing alone in the park, pacing in the cold. As time passes, she begins checking her phone more and more often, becoming increasingly concerned with the time. She waits there, in the cold, dark night for over an hour, never looking angry or upset, before finally turning to walk back home. I call after her, but she can’t seem to hear me. I can’t even hear my own voice. Watching over her, the world seems to have a distant, ephemeral feeling to it. I’m no longer aware of myself, only cognizant of the world as it exists. She doesn’t show it, but I can almost sense the sadness she holds within emanating from her.

I follow closely behind as she walks back home, nearly dragging her feet. Is this how she is when I’m not around? Does she pretend to be happy just to help me? I suddenly feel pangs of regret for every time I decided to simply ignore her strange attitudes, or when she would not come to school. It was wrong to her, but I always knew that I had tomorrow to rectify these mistakes. There was always another day when I could make good on my empty promises, where I could finally come through like I always said I would. Ikari flexes and releases her hand, her mouth forming silent words. She’s talking to herself. She does this when she’s angry. This was a rash, quick decision to come out here to talk to me, and now she must be regretting it.

I follow her back into her apartment and watch on as she works her way through the practiced motions, quickly and quietly, before going to bed. I stand watch over her, wishing there was something I could do to make this better.

Finally, she interrupts the silence. “Why can’t you be happy?”, her voice is quite and hoarse. Was she crying? “I’ll even hate you, if I have to. Why can’t you just let go and move onto what you want, instead of holding on?

“I’m just sick and pointless. I can’t be here forever. Can’t you see? You don’t need me. You just think you do.”

I don’t know if she’s talking to me, or just reciting what she planned to say. I finally take a look around her room. It’s messy and unordered, which seems out of style for her. The dresser has multiple prescription bottles on it, lined up in order with dosages, times, and days written neatly on each of them. She has a new one, still in the bag, from the pharmacy, dated today. She had a doctor’s appointment, which is why she wasn’t at school. This must be why the teachers never argue with her about attendance.

She’s still shaking lightly in bed, but she has nothing more to say. I come next to her and wait, yet again wishing there was something I could do to help.

I keep standing watch dutifully through the night, hoping to at least protect her from the nightmares and pain.

***

That buzzing noise has always annoyed me. It’s the deciding factor between whether I’m asleep or awake. Regardless of the state, the distant buzzing sound brings me to reality and forces me to focus on where I am. My hand reaches out and fumbles with each button on the alarm, one eventually turning it off. Something’s gnawing at the back of my mind, the same feeling I often have when I wake up after having come to a great revelation the night before. Glancing at the notepad, I find it empty yet again. It’s almost a pointless habit for me to even keep it there, since I rarely write anything in it.

I gather my things and get ready for the day, bundling up before walking out of the building to walk to the subway station. Pulling my phone out to check the time, I find a message waiting for me, apparently sent early this morning, before I woke up. Ikari sent it. All the message says is to not worry about ‘it’, and that everything’s fine. Everything? It? I check through previous messages, but don’t find anything about what she could be talking about. I unconsciously turn the phone over in my hand, trying to understand what she meant. There, on the back near the bottom, is a round, thumb-shaped circle of dried… something. The train pulls up at that moment, leaving me without time to puzzle over it as I get packed into the corner in the mass of people.

***

“You’re late, Asaki.”

I keep walking past without replying until she repeats herself and I realize that the teacher’s talking to me. I glance back and utter a quick excuse about being held up on the phone.

Ikari looks like her usual, pleasant self. She smiles as I walk up, her head tilting to the side as I approach. I take my place next to her and start removing the books and pencil bag before talking in a low, hushed voice, “What did that message mean, to not worry about ‘it’?”

She replies with a puzzled look and shrugs. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. I guess my first message didn’t get through.” With this, she reaches over and plays with my hair before smiling again. “Really, you worry too much. Why don’t you tell me about how it went?”

I start tracing designs on my desk with the tip of my finger, letting out a slight sigh before replying, “I almost did it yesterday…”

“Good, then almost do it again today. Tomorrow, almost do it some more. You’ll eventually do it that way. I guess it sounds strange, but I think it works.”

I nod in agreement. Though I’m not sure what to make of it, I know that she’s right. “Hey,” I look over at her. “Maybe today, right?”

She looks almost sad for a moment before her features quickly rearrange, looking more resolute now. Ikari looks back over at me, smiling again. “How about today?”

“Today?!”, my voice comes off louder than I intended, eliciting a few glances.

“Yes, today. Maybe I was wrong about before. It’s the door to your future, but not every step to get there has to be alone. I’ll go with you.”

My heart sinks, and I feel a wave of panic. It suddenly becomes more real, less avoidable. I think I mumbled an agreement, or nodded my head. I can’t imagine I’d agree to it, but she seems happier.

***

The metal bites into my skin. I tighten my grasp.

The cold metal resists. I put more force into it.

The lock clicks. I want to step away.

Light spills out through the doorway. I freeze.

A hand rests on my shoulder. I can feel my heart beating again.

I stand at the doorway again, my legs refusing to move one way or another. I can see things moving about inside, but I definitely don’t want to be one of those things. Slowly, but intentionally, the hand on my shoulder presses forward, trying to coax me through the threshold. Unconsciously, my foot falls forward, landing inside. The next step comes easier, now just inside the doorway. Seeing the counter once again, I feel dizzy. “Do I really have to do this today?”

“No, no you don’t. Maybe next time. But I think the next tomorrow will be easier than today.”