Life kept playing like a fast-forwarded trailer.
Time didn't stop.
It doesn't know how to anyway…
It kept slipping by—like flickers of film in an old projector,
too fast to catch, too noisy to ignore.
I could really use a break…
Lately, my thoughts keep drifting back.
Not to anything grand, just quiet memories.
Like being in my mother's arms.
There was a warmth there—
soft, endless.
I didn't know what peace was back then,
but maybe…
maybe that was it.
I still remember being four years old—
The warmth of her body against mine,
like a steaming cup of tea on a quiet Sunday morning.
I wished I could pause that moment.
But I couldn't.
Geez, why are all these memories coming back now?
I keep thinking about the stories she used to tell me
when I was just a toddler.
Those stories rocked me—
just like a chair swaying gently back and forth.
She'd talk about the beautiful forests on our island,
where tall trees whispered secrets to the wind every morning.
I remember laughing.
The sound of my giggles mixing with the rustling leaves.
But the thing is...
I don't want to remember this.
"Good memories, huh?"
Here I am—talking to myself again.
I pushed open the door to Mom's room.
The hallway light spilled in like a memory
that never asked permission.
There it was again.
That photo.
I always tried not to look.
There he was.
Standing a little too straight, smiling like he meant it.
My mom beside him, my so call father, holding me like
she already knew she'd be doing this alone.
Hmph. Why is this still here?
I turned away.
Maybe some stories are better left inside frames,
collecting dust.
"Hey, how are you feeling, Mom?"
No response.
Just a smile.
That smile only made the tiredness in her eyes more obvious.
Her illness had turned them wrinkled—
like an old woman's eyes, missing her anti-wrinkle cream for years.
But my mom is still young.
She's just...
fighting stage 4 lung cancer.
"You're giving me that little smile, huh?"
"Of course I am honey. I can still control my face, you know."
"Yeah, well... you look like those grandmas in TV commercials
trying to prove they're still young by drinking magic juice or something."
We laughed.
The sound felt real—warm.
But just as quickly, it faded—
smothered by her coughing.
A sharp, bloody cough sound.
"Let me get you a tissue—sorry!"
I rushed over.
Already stained.
"Here you go."
"Thanks, honey. Don't be sorry.
I just can't resist my son's terrible jokes."
"Haha... don't force yourself to laugh.
I know I'm the funniest guy alive,
but I'd rather keep my number one fan alive
than kill her with laughter."
"That wouldn't be such a bad way to go, though."
Her smile again.
It hit me in the chest.
She really is my whole world.
Admitting that hurts even more.
"Alright, show's over. I gotta get to school."
I wanted to hold her hand.
But I didn't.
Every time I do,
It feels like saying goodbye.
Now, the one who puts my mom to bed
is her 17-year-old son.
I wrapped her in the white blanket I found in the attic.
So dusty it made me cough.
We don't even have clean sheets anymore.
I only have 15 coins left.
Maybe I'll get her some Lipbaum for her cracked lips.
I'll tell Yumi to cancel our walk later.
Oh—
Right. Today's my birthday.
And Mom is still sick.
She promised me she'd be better by now.
She promised that by my 16th birthday, her cancer would be gone.
That was last year.
I was so optimistic.
But it wasn't her fault.
Her body lost the fight.
It was mine…
for not seeing the signs earlier.
Yes, it's my fault.
"Mom, how are you feeling?"
Her tired eyes answered for her.
No words.
Just struggle.
She forced a smile.
Alright then.
I'll pretend too.
"Mom, it's 9 o'clock. I have to go.
When I get back—"
She turned away.
Closed her eyes.
Couldn't even fake it this time.
I don't like hugs.
But I love my mom.
I hugged her.
Then walked away.
"Ikiryo."
I froze.
Her voice—barely above a whisper.
"Yes, Mom?"
She made a funny face.
Like a rabbit nibbling on air.
I smiled.
"Why do you use your last bits of energy to make silly faces like that?"
I walked back to her.
"Honey, even if I feel like life is leaving my body…
can't I still make my only son laugh?"
I looked at her.
Eyes full of guilt.
I can't do anything.
I'm just...
helpless.
She's the reason I feel like I'm collapsing from the inside.
Every moment could be the last.
🏫 AT SCHOOL
Oh crap!
I'm super late!
Breathing heavily...
Totally out of breath.
I made it.
My seat's right in the middle, next to—
"HEYYY, Ikiryo!"
God, Yumi.
Her voice could compete with a jet engine.
"Why do you always scream like that in the morning?"
I pulled out my notebook.
"To make sure you're awake, duh!
And… HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!"
"Thanks. Still annoying though."
"Whatever. I'll do it again tomorrow."
She hugged me.
Then flashed her goofy smile.
Everyone in the room stared.
"You know what they say…
if someone talks louder than your thoughts,
you won't be able to hear your worries anymore."
…
Okay.
I get it.
Besides Mom,
Yumi's the only one who can still steal a smile from me.
"Tsss…. Still, don't be so loud."
I flicked her forehead.
She flicked mine right back.
Back and forth.
Both our foreheads turned red.
People behind us laughed.
We really are a cartoon duo, huh?
We called it a tie.
As she walked back to her seat,
I just stared.
Friends care, even when you don't ask them to.
For the past year,
I forgot how to be a teenager.
Am I even allowed to be one anymore?
I feel like an old man in a student's body.
The bell rang.
The teacher walked in.
Math class.
At least it keeps the nightmares out—
for a while.