I do not own Eternal Sonata

愛

Forget-Me-Not

愛

Jazz took a swig of the beer.

For a while, all memories are erased, all feelings are shadowed, all truths are woozy—he can't tell what's real and what's wrong, what's the truth and what's a lie.

So he pretends.

He wouldn't know he was pretending until the headache would disappear the next day. So he drinks, more and more, trying to cover the pain. He smiles when he forgets. Claves is alive—that's always, always the first lie. She is on his side—the second.

When the migraine the next day would leave, he thinks, Falsetto would call him a rude name and Claves would force-drink him a liquid that takes all the fun out of life. Wait. There was something about Claves. Something important. She always said forget-me-nots would do the trick, but he could't find any.

Maybe he sent her on a mission, and she won't be home until later? Maybe she's spying on Forte? Yes—something about Forte and spying.

So why is he drinking? As far as he remembered he hated drinking. Maybe she was gone longer than a week—that always made him drink. So…he'd have to ask Falsetto. She's tell him in between calling him a bastard and a * and a * and a * and a * and something else.

But there it is again—something about Claves. Perhaps….perhaps she'd been gone even longer than a week? No. He tried to never, ever make her leave longer than that—but, sometimes, things don't go as planned.

He missed her.

He'll ask Falsetto to take her place, so she can come home. Yes. It might be selfish of him and, not to mention, she was his best friend. But…Claves…

There was something. But he ignored it and drank.

愛

"Jazz."

Jazz blinked and his eyes flickered over to pink hair. His smile went wide. "Claves," he said, slurring her name. "I thought I made you go on a mission to Forte."

"Yes. You did."

"I didn't think about it. A week is a lot, hmm, Claves?"

"Yes. It is."

"But...it seems like more time past than that."

"It does indeed."

"Claves."

"Yes?"

"Why do you look so sad?"

"...Because you won't let me go," she whispered softly. "You haven't let me go yet, Jazz. Not yet."