My legs hurt.

Nevermind, all of me hurt.

I'd been searching for months by then, barely stopping only when I really had to, barely keeping myself going on will alone.

After two and a half months of searching, following any trail I could find, asking anyone I could see, chasing any trace of a lead I was given, I had nearly given up searching for you. You clearly didn't want to be found, and I had zero remaining ideas on where you could be. I was just wandering blindly, hoping to find you by any broken chance.

I thought I just had to give you some time. More time, enough time. I thought I had more time to give, to waste, to let die as I ran myself into the ground with efforts equal to idleness. But I kept walking, hopeless as it was becoming. I kept searching, dreaming to fix my chance by footsteps alone.

I didn't want to give up on you, I didn't want to be the person I don't want to believe I am. So I kept going, and I thought that that would be enough. Tenacity alone would set the world right, if ever it could have gone wrong.

I tried to do right by you. I tried to do what you would have wanted, but how could I have known what that was? How could I have believed that I knew?

There was a day, when I was walking, that someone once came up to me. I was in a dream then, more specter than seeker, and it wasn't until I felt a distorted tap on my shoulder that I looked up, and saw a face of no past presence.

"Hey, are you alright?" They asked, a look of concern on their face. "You look exhausted, where do you need to be?"

"Huh?" Catching the leaves already on the ground. "No, I'm, I'm just looking for someone."

"What do they look like? Maybe I've seen them, or I can help you look."

I started to give them your description, tell them what I knew, accept their offer of help, but I stopped.

I remembered, then, what you'd said to me. You didn't want anyone to know you were from the past, that you were any different from anyone else. That person couldn't help me in finding you. I'd have to do it on my own.

"It's alright, I'll find her soon enough. Thanks for the offer though."

"No problem. Good look finding them."

"Yea..." I say, as they walk away, back into the crowd. I couldn't think. I needed to... find you. You were somewhere, chance more than favored that. And I needed to... eat something. Rest. I couldn't rest. I could keep going, for at least a bit longer.

I stepped back into the crowd, and made my way to the next building. How many had it been? None of the logs had you listed, I wasn't even sure if you ever registered, but I couldn't think of any other way to find you.

You had no past in this world, no one really even knew you existed, and over the past months, I had taught you to blend in seamlessly with this new world. Even I may never have been able to find you. I couldn't even search for you by name, I never knew it.

I wandered, I searched, I looked in every building and read through every log, and I had no idea how I was going to find you. The name I knew you by was not even your real name, so I couldn't ask for you that way, and even if I did know your name, you still might not have registered with the city, so it still wouldn't even matter. I knew what you looked like, of course, but I also knew you preferred to wear your helmet in public, so there was every chance I could walk right past you and not have a clue.

I didn't know anything about you. I thought you loved the stars, I knew you played cards. I'd gone to the top floor of every building I've searched, stepped out under all the glass ceilings, and never looked up once. I searched the room, the floor, every corner and edge, any place with a view of the stars I dreamed you loved, and you were never there. I'd checked every game store, every card corner, and you were never there either. What else did I know of you? That you studied time travel? That you were born a thousand years ago? It's not as if I could have gone back to that time to find you.

I had to give up. I had to believe that I could give up, that no matter what happened, it'd all work out in the end. If you needed me, you would come to me. This was a safe world, one far safer than the one you came from. As much as you refused to believe it, there was nothing in this world that would hurt you. This world is a Utopia. I believed that more than anyone.

But if I really believed that to be true, why was I rushing so much to find you? If I knew you were safe? If I knew this world wouldn't hurt you?

Maybe it's because I knew you were alone. Or because I blamed myself, on every basis, for the way you had fled.

I remember the day you left. Of course I do. I was so excited that day, so certain I was showing you this grand thing that would outshine any creation of your old time, any memory you would have missed. I thought I was helping you. I thought I was doing something right.

I thought I was giving you the chance to fly into the sky you seemed to adore.

But then you turned. And started running.

And you didn't come back.

I thought you were just heading home. Or somehow decided it wasn't worth your time, it was boring. Or somehow even just panicking about the flight. You told me you weren't afraid of heights though, and not only did you work as a bridge builder and never show any signs of it, you even admitted that when you started you didn't know there were nets to catch you. I thought I just had to change the setting, and maybe show you something else about this world instead. I thought it would be fine. I thought it would turn out to just be nothing.

But you disappeared. I thought maybe you were avoiding me. Or avoiding work. Or avoiding everything and just staying at home.

But when I went by a day later, the owner of the building you'd lived in said you weren't there anymore.

Our employer said you hadn't shown up or called or said anything since you'd left.

Everyone else said they had no clue where you were.

No one knew anything about you.

You arrived in this world unknown, no identity, no friends, no past and barely even a present, was I really surprised you were able to leave just as easily?

If I were an optimist I'd have said you made your way home. Found some mythical source of power and returned to where you belonged. But I'm not an optimist, I'm a realist, and I knew with absolute certainty that there is no way to travel back in time.

I know what's possible. And I know what isn't.

You were still in this time. There is no way out. I just had to find you, or wait for you to find me.

It was just a matter of time. There was nothing in my world that could change that.

So I gave up. All I could do was head home, to where you'd be able to find me, if and when you needed me. To think, that it was entirely by chance that I heard that girl crying on the way back? That I saw them sitting by that specific bakery, on that specific level, at that specific moment in time? What if I hadn't? Would I have gone on forever, never knowing what had happened to you? Where you were? Whether you were okay?

Would that have been better?

I guess... I guess it doesn't matter. Everything used to matter, but now? It's too late now. For the first time in years, it's too late now.

"Are you alright?" I asked the crying girl, feeling the weight of my search dragging in my voice and tone. I needed to rest soon. But first this person needed help.

She didn't respond, but as I asked, someone else came out of the bakery, and replied in her place. "I'm sorry, she is grieving a recently passed coworker of ours. This is her first day back since then. It was an unexpected death."

I stopped. "Unexpected?" I asked. Those didn't happen. Not often, not ever. I looked up at the banners; no news of any unexpected deaths. Something like that would be everywhere. It had been decades since the last one.

"The family has yet to give approval to the publication." The baker said, and I nodded. That explained the absence.

"I'm sorry for your loss." I said slowly, and the baker nodded.

"Would you like to come inside for a bit?" They asked. "You look weary, have something to eat before you continue your travels." I nodded, still unnerved by the news, still planning to look more into it later, but I followed them into the bakery nonetheless.

It was warm inside, but not a stifling warmth, and it smelled of freshly baked goods. It had a homey feel to it, like a place of rest. A place of recovery. Just the kind of place I knew I needed, at that point.

It made me think of you. Every part of it. I didn't know why, I didn't know how. Even before I saw the picture in the corner, even before I was told the truth of the place I was in. It was your place. I knew that, at least.

I wandered around the open space, deciding which table to sit at, wondering what I'd order. Wondering where you were, of course. Wondering if I should continue my search.

And then I saw your picture. And then I saw you.

A black and white image, in the center of a plain wall, adorned with gifts and mementos.

A sign of death.

You are dead, now, don't you know it?

I didn't.

You'd been dead for weeks.

And I didn't know it.

I took a breath, sharp and painful, denied it for a moment, questioned for another, and then it all hit me at once.

Grief and shock crashed into me like a planet, crushing the wind out of my lungs in a desperate effort to kill me. I was choking, drowning, dying and falling. Io couldn't be dead. How could she die? How could this happen? This was supposed to be a safer time, how could she have died? She was supposed to be here, she was supposed to live here in this time and be happy again, I was supposed to be able to help her, I was supposed to make things better.

No, no no, I can't have let this happen, this can't be real, of all the people to be dead in this world, how her, how her, shatter the chances and build them to truth, please, it can't be real, how could it be, how could it be.

One of the bakers saw my distress and rushed over to me, hoping to console.

"I'm so sorry, did you know her?" They asked, and I was hit by a sudden feeling that reminded me almost of sickness.

...Did I? Did I even know you? No. If I had known you... this never would have happened. If I had known you, I would have seen the signs that you were going to leave. If I had known you, I'd have been able to stop this, I would have saved you, I would have protected you from... whatever killed you.

What killed you?

"Hello? Are you okay?"

"Yes." I said, autumn at my heart. "Yes. I knew her."

"I'm sorry for your loss. She was such a sweet girl, so cheerful. The kind to consider everyone a friend."

I swallowed, trying to clear the dryness in my mouth. Was it just me then? Was I the only one you didn't consider a friend?

"How did she die?" I asked, wondering what it possibly could have been. Which of hell's kind of crazy, broken-chance accidents could have led to your death, in a world where no one had died of unexpected causes in over three decades.

"Fell to death. Was using the wings up near 7th, and I'll sign they malfunctioned or a similar sort. Officials say something was blocking the signals from her brain to the wings, so when she stepped off, she just fell, the wings didn't even open. Security systems didn't catch her since I guess they didn't recognize the malfunction in the wings. They managed to start working eventually, but it was too late by then."

A wing malfunction?

No. No, no, how, how you, how that, what kind of sick chance could have done that?

In all the years those wings have existed, there has not been a single malfunction. Not ​one.

How could you have died that way? How you, of all people? A wing malfunction, of all things?

Those didn't happen.

It was one in a trillion.

Hell, maybe even less.

Those didn't happen here.

Accidents like that, they didn't happen here.

Accidents didn't happen.

It

Wasn't

An

Accident.

It can't have been.

Your death was not an accident.

You jumped.

And you chose not to fly.

There was nothing blocking the signals.

You just weren't sending any.

No. No. That didn't happen here. Not anymore. People didn't do that here. People were happy here. Something like that, no, it's been centuries. It's a thing people read of in history books, a thing the people of this world can't even imagine.

People don't make that choice. Not anymore. People are happy in this world.

But not you. I should have known that. Not you.

I felt a sharp stab in my chest. You didn't want to fly. You chose to die. You would rather die than live here. You would rather fall from hundreds of stories up than live in this world.

I should have been there. I should have stopped you. I should have grabbed you and dragged you out of there. I should have shouted at you, forced you away from the edge, I should have been able to help you. I should never have let you run away. I should never have let you out of my sight, I should have known, I should have been able to help you.

I was so proud of this world. So excited to show it to you. 'Look how far we've come!" I'd hoped to say, to show you the safety and the progress and the happiness that this world offers that yours never did. I thought that would all be enough. I thought you'd be happy here, in this 'perfect' world, because everyone else was, because that's just how this world is. This is a world without tragedy, without hate, without needless pain and grief and revenge and hurt, and it was perfect, and everyone was happy, and you are dead, because you weren't.

You weren't happy here. With all this world is, with all the years of trial and error and progress and growth between your time and this one, I'd thought it was perfect.

Is it my fault that it wasn't? Was it my own choices that lead to this, my own ignorance of something that should have been common knowledge? You were my friend. I would have changed this whole world, and everyone in it, somehow, someway, if only to make it better for you. If only to prevent... this. This, above any other chance I denied.

And if none of that worked, I would have fallen with you.

"Have you seen her grave room yet?" The baker asked. "Do you know where it is?"

I shook my head. It made me dizzy. Lights made you dizzy. I remember that. "No. I don't know where she is."

The baker took out a piece of paper and started writing directions on it. "Follow these directions, and you'll find the gravesite. She's on the 487th floor, sector two. Just look for room 487.236"

I nodded absentmindedly, still staring at the dull colored photo. It hurt. Everything hurt. I wished I could feel numb, but that only reminded me of you more. You were numb to this world. You told me that once. Nothing felt real to you.

I stood there a few more moments, then started the walk towards the grave tower. With every step I could feel the denial in me grow. You couldn't be dead. Maybe the picture was of someone else. Maybe in the black and white coloring, I confused you with someone else. That had to be it. It had to be it.

If I could know you so little that I couldn't see when you were dying, then I could know you so little that I couldn't recognize your face in a photo.

I can't be the person that let you die. It can't have happened. I can't have let that happen.

I was walking faster now. I had to see it. I had to see that it wasn't real. When I got to the gravesite I shoved my way past the people in line for the elevator, and caught one just about to go up. I punched in 487, then nervously waited as it rose through the building.

She's not dead. She can't be. I know she isn't, things like that didn't happen anymore, she's okay, I know she is, I just have to get to this room and I'll see she's not there, I know I will, I know I will.

The moment the elevator arrived at the right level, I crashed through the doorway nearly falling onto the floor, then sprinted down the hallway looking for your room.

She's not there, I know she isn't, I just have to get there and all of this will stop, this won't be happening, I know it won't, I know it won't.

Within moments I found the door, and I nearly broke it down in my haste to open it. If I couldn't shatter the chances, than maybe that door would do.

But it didn't help anything. You were still there. Dozens of black and white pictures staring at me from every direction.

Io was dead.

My closest friend, the one I cared more about than anyone else in this world, the one I had hoped to one day trust me and see all the beauty I believed this world had to offer, was dead.

And she died alone. Afraid. Unknown.

She was so hopeless, so heartbroken, so lost and confused that she couldn't live anymore.

This world, this world that I had once considered to be perfect, wasn't enough for her.

She wasn't happy here.

Not just that. She was unhappy. She was hurting. She would rather die than live in this 'Utopia', this 'perfect' world, this utter wasteland that I thought then was heaven.

There was no true happiness in this world.

Not for you.

And I didn't even know it.

I sat. Or I fell, I don't know, but all of a sudden the lights of the room were hidden by my hands and I was trapped in the vacuum left behind by the sudden banishment of denial.

"No... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry... I killed you... oh God Io I killed you... I did this... I did this..."

I sat against the closed door, pleading my apologies to the lights and the pictures, but the vacuum remained, the crushing feeling remained, and for hours it felt like that small room was the only thing in the world, everything else had vanished into a void beyond the door, everything else had crumbled into a pile of dust pushed away by the banners in the sky.

Everything's still gone. The void is still there. I'm still here, and you're still dead.

I've been here a while. I haven't left. There's nowhere to go.

"You were so sad..." I whisper to myself, picking up one of the pictures closest to me. "It hurt you so much just to be alive in this world..."

There was no happiness for you in this world. Despite everything I'd done, you weren't happy.

Was this my fault?

Did I do this to you?

If I had been different, if I had made different choices, would you have ended up like this?

Would you have been happy?

I thought you would be happy here. But I was wrong.

I failed you.

No. I didn't fail. Or maybe I did, but that wasn't all of it.

I was just wrong.

For so long I believed that my world was a happy world. A 'Utopia'.

But I was wrong.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't do what I could have done, what I should have done, what I needed to do, to make sure you were happy here. I'm sorry I didn't recognize that you weren't.

What a friend I was. All these things I would have done, all these promises and wishes and regrets, and what did I do? I stared as you ran off, confused, not knowing if you were angry or scared or upset, not knowing that you were hurting.

I didn't even know you. I say you were my friend, that we were close, and I never even knew you. I don't recognize the you in these pictures, in this room, but this was who you were, wasn't it? The you that was hidden under a helmet, behind a mask. The you you didn't trust me with.

I didn't know you loved baking. I thought you loved stars, but I guess I saw that I was wrong, didn't I? You had so many friends at your new job. This place is lined with snacks, with gifts. Did you love all these things? I didn't bring you anything. I don't even know what I would have brought.

All these people knew you. Was I the only one who didn't? Did you trust them, did they recognize when you needed help? If they didn't, was that my fault too? Did I only ever help you hide it? I'm sorry, Io.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let you die. I followed you, and then I lost you, and then I stopped. I went home for the day. I thought you did too. I thought I'd see you the next day at work, ask you what happened, say I'm sorry, and we'd continue on. I had no idea. Not even the slightest clue.

It never even crossed my mind, that you could make this choice. That this world could be anything but perfect, but wonderful. I should have known better, I should have been the one person out of everyone here to know better, but I knew nothing. I let you die. I may be the only person in this world to know the truth of your origin, but I let you down. I let you fall. I let you kill yourself, and I didn't even know it until several weeks had already passed.

How can I call myself your friend? Did you even consider me that? Can I believe that you did?

No. I can't. Because I wasn't. I failed you. I could never consider myself your friend. Any friend of yours wouldn't have failed you like this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

I thought stars were important. I thought they meant something, I thought you loved them. That's really it though, isn't it? That's all there was? And it wasn't even true? You saw something else there, I think. Would you have told me what it was, if I hadn't let you run off that day?

There were so many things that were important to you, if I had been able to see those things, to catch you a star out of the sky, to create a feeling you would have lived for, to find you something in this world you would have been able to love, would you still be here? Would I have failed you so badly?

What did you see when you looked up there? Or really, what didn't you see? What was missing, what could I have changed?

Was it the memories? Was it something you missed? Family? Friends? Home? All of it?

Was it something you hated? Something you couldn't stand? Something that was so horrifying, so sickening, you couldn't bear to live a life with it around you? What was it? Or who?

Or maybe, was it fear? How come I never knew? There seemed to be nothing you feared in this world, but yet there was nothing you hated, nothing you loved, you were just wandering, just getting by.

You weren't happy here. I kinda knew it, I think, but I never thought it would be like this. I thought I could fix it, I thought I'd be able to.

I thought I had more time. A lifetime, even, to make this world a world you could have been alive in. Maybe even felt at home in.

There was so much sadness where you came from. I thought you'd escaped it, but you carried it with you, and I never even recognized it. This was supposed to be a happier place, but how could it be? When you were so desperate to leave?

What made your world so special? What about it could I have imitated, to make this world nicer for you?

There was death in your world. Tragedy. Violence. Fear, hurt, sickness and pain. So many horrible things. What could it have been, something great enough to counter all of that? To make that world the one you wanted to be in? Was it really the stars? Or the sky itself? The sun? The air? The history, the uncertain future?

What entity was so grand in your own world, that its lack of presence was enough to make this world such a hell that it was for you?

Or were all those horrible things really necessary. They were a part of your life, somehow, and you couldn't live without them.

I can't believe that. Not yet. But if it's true? I'd bring it all back, for you. If it would have meant you could have been happy here.

I don't want to live in a world you couldn't be happy in. There's something wrong with this place, I know that now. It's missing something. Something you needed. I'll find out what it is. I promise.

I'll make this world better, for you. The deadline may have passed, but, as always, time keeps going. I'll find the stars again, find all the things you wanted to go back to. I'll fix it, somehow, I know I will, and I know it will be too late, but I'll fix it for you anyway.

And if all that fails, I'll find a different way to go about it. Whatever it may be.

I promise, Io, to the end of my life,

"I will build you a truly happy world."

I let the words sink into the air. Unheard, but said. I wish I could have said those words earlier. It would have been better then.

I take a shaky breath. It still hurts. But I'm going to fix it now. I'll make sure this never happens again. I don't care what I have to do. It doesn't matter, not anymore.

But...

I still don't even know your name.

You didn't trust me enough to even tell me your name.

Now I'll never know.

And that hurt. It hurt like a sickness, like a wound of violence. Until I stood up, and a nameplate on the side of the box caught my eye.

I moved the scattered gifts out of the way, and there it was, in gleaming silver, the nameplate everyone had on their box.

I stood up slowly, shakily, as if I didn't trust the floor beneath me to not collapse. For a brief moment I again wondered if this was what you felt like.

I read the nameplate, and read it again.

It didn't say 'Io'. It didn't have that lie.

It had the truth. Not meant for me, but there anyway. A lone truth to find too late.

I finally knew your name. I finally knew who you really were.

Nothing else mattered anymore. But I finally knew your name. That was all I needed.

"I will remember you." I whispered, putting my hand on your box. "You did not die unknown. I will remember you."

"I promise. I promise to remember you as you truly were.

I promise to fix the parts of this world that hurt you.

I promise to be a better friend, the kind of friend you deserved.

I promise to make all this better. To never, ever, let anything like this ever happen again. I promise."

I took your necklace that I'd found on the ground, the one engraved with a picture of the stars in your world, and held it to my pain like a cure to an ailment. Something left behind, something abandoned, something you said was important but that I know now really wasn't.

Something like me.

"I'm sorry, again. I'm so sorry.

But I'm going to make it better now.

I promise.

I'm cutting the hurt off here.

No more sadness.

No more grief.

No more letting the people I cared about wither away without me even knowing it.

For you, my friend. I will change it all.

I'm sorry. Please know that. I will never stop being sorry.

And I promise, to the end of my life,

I will remember you,

Emily.

I will remember you forever.