“I love you,” you said.

“That’s bothersome,” I replied.

That was really far from the truth, but since I could not lay hands on you anyway, that was how I responded.

To love someone.

To be with someone.

For someone like me, with stained hands, and a corrupted body, such a thing was unforgivable, I thought.

That’s why I replied, “That’s bothersome.”

As always, on hearing that, your face saddens.

But I thought that was fine.

If this meant causing less pain to you, it was fine.

But, that’s because I also loved you.

As long as I could avoid hurting you, I was fine with being alone. That was what I thought.

That was why I replied, “That’s bothersome.”

In order to run away from your love.

In order to run away from everyone else’s love.

I was running, from one place to another. It was bothersome. Bothersome. Bothersome.

Being near you was bothersome, and as a result I had to run from one place to another.

Even though the truth was that the only person I did not want to hurt was myself. I just used “not wanting to hurt you” as an excuse to run away again and again.

In the end.

I made a mistake again.

Hurting someone important to me.

Losing someone important to me.

Because I never acknowledged my true feelings, you left in tears.

You were hurt.

I did not notice that.

I was only concerned about myself. I only thought about how unfortunate I was.

It was as if I was completely oblivious to you.

And then.

You disappeared.

You disappeared with tears in your eyes.

It was only then that I started feeling regretful.

It was only after losing you that I felt regretful.

How did it come to this? The feelings of regret kept on welling up. They kept on coming.

So, this is a story about taking back what was lost.

A story of me who kept on keeping on, struggling, floundering, to somehow take back what was lost.

No matter how many times.

Again and again.

History kept repeating itself, again and again.

A story about a sad demon, who was struggling with tears in his eyes.