Christopher

You met him. He was completely poor. He looked like a kitten in need of help. You introduced yourself. His velvety, calm voice said:

• Christopher.

This is where your story began.

He walked with you in an old kimono. Christopher was smarter than you thought. You discussed philosophy, brought him books. He wanted to develop himself, not drink himself to death and die like other poor people.

You were getting closer faster than you expected.

With each passing day, you noticed his beauty. His hoarse laugh—it gave you goosebumps. His smile was more beautiful than a cherry blossom. The way he spoke of sublime things. You fell in love.

Christopher noticed how you'd stare at him for long periods of time while chatting about politics. Boring topics became interesting with you. Love was evident in his gaze.

You confessed once in the field at dawn. But he replied:

• How can I be with the prince if I am poor?

You hugged him:

• I don't care. I love you no matter what.

The coronation took place. You became emperor. Christopher was chosen instead of the empress. The crown suited him even better than it did you.

You broke the country's rules, and the people rebelled. You paid for it.

The castle burned down during the night. You slept in each other's arms and didn't know about the fire. You died without seeing the dawn. But it was a good death—you were there.

You were standing at a friend's place. He refused to go to the cinema again—he had no money. You offered to buy everything yourself. He was embarrassed.

You are from a wealthy family, he is of average income.

A guy walked past, and you bumped shoulders. You turned around sullenly, about to respond rudely, but froze.

You stepped closer. The face was strangely familiar. Insanely dear. Your heart fluttered and began to beat faster.

“Have we met before?” he asked.

He felt déjà vu too.

It was the same inside Christopher. You seemed loved, yet forgotten. His cold heart beat faster.

.