He's dropped a lot of old hobbies and picked up some new ones lately. Shedding the old, learning the new, he wonders if that means he is maturing. Or maybe it means he is growing, leveling up.
It doesn't feel like it though, not without her in his life. There is a giant hole in his heart where she should be, and no amount of hobbies can fill it. He has become an expert on all things domestic, but nothing compares to the way she used to help him cook.
The memories are so fresh he can almost smell her. Her scent was one of Sakura blossoms and sage. She wore it with a little bit of something else, a sweet, fruity smell that wasn't quite a perfume, that clung to her clothes and her hair. He misses the way she would laugh as they cooked together, the sound of it making him smile.
He thinks about her all the time. When he is sitting alone at the kitchen table, when he is trying to fall asleep at night as the waves lap against the rocky shore of the lighthouse. That's why he's here, hopping that he can be her light in the dark night, guiding her back to shore. Guiding her back to him.
She's lost at sea.
She is the sea. But he doesn't need to know where she is, because he knows where she belongs. He knows where he belongs too. Together, they are the storm.
So he waits. He will wait forever if that's what it takes.
***
His brush strokes are getting better. The portrait of Nya is looking more like her every day. It's still far from finished though. His fingers are trembling so badly he can barely hold his brush.
He puts down the brush and closes his eyes. He pictures her in his mind. Her golden brown eyes, her taut black hair, her long, graceful limbs. The way she would smile at him as she stepped inside after a long day of work.
He misses her so much it hurts. He wishes he could just open his eyes and find her there. He wants to go to her, to be with her, to hold her close and never let her go.
But he can't. She's gone. And he doesn't know how to get her back.
***
The sun is warm on his face. He lies in the sand, feeling its rays through his shirt. He opens his eyes and watches the clouds drift by overhead. The waves gently tickle his feet.
It's been months since she left. He's not sure how much longer he can go on like this.
There has to be a way to bring her back. He won't give up on her. He loves her, and he's going to find her.
***
It's late at night, but he can't sleep. He walks up to the window and looks out at the sea. It's calm and quiet, the only sound the waves crashing against the shore.
He wonders if she's out there somewhere, floating in the water, drifting farther and farther away. If he were to jump into the sea, would he be able to catch her? Would he be strong enough to save her?
The lighthouse is falling apart. It's starting to crumble. He should really fix it before the roof comes crashing down. But he can't bring himself to do anything but sit here and stare out the window.
***
The sky is grey, and the rain is pouring down. He sits in the kitchen, watching the raindrops slide down the window. The roof is leaking.
He has no idea what he's going to do. He doesn't know where to begin. He's tried everything he can think of, but nothing has worked.
He's all alone now. There's no one to talk to. No one to comfort him. No one to help him.
