Chapter 14: Your Smile Doesn't Match Your Scars
The sun came out the next day.
Yumi showed up at school in Akiro's hoodie — the one still faintly stained from the rain and regret. People whispered, of course. Stared. Some laughed.
She didn't care.
Not today.
Not when she found him leaning against the vending machine, pretending to read the label, hands jammed deep into his pockets.
She walked up.
Said nothing.
Just stood beside him.
And waited.
Eventually, he dropped the act and muttered, "I look like a loser."
"You are a loser."
His lips twitched. "Takes one to love one."
She bumped his shoulder. "You think I love you?"
"You're wearing my hoodie."
"That proves nothing. Maybe I'm cold."
He glanced at her.
Eyes tired.
Voice low.
"Are you?"
Yumi looked away.
"…A little."
They ate lunch on the rooftop again — alone this time. Her legs across his lap. His head leaned back against the fence. Both of them pretending they didn't feel like time had frozen.
"Can I ask you something?" she said.
He nodded.
"What happened to your face?"
A pause.
A long one.
Then, finally:
"I got too close to someone who thought pain was the only way to love."
Her throat tightened. "Your father?"
"No." His voice was calm. "My mother."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Then he said, "She used to put cigarettes out on my skin. Said she needed to feel like I was real. That I existed."
Yumi didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
Just placed her hand over his — gently, firmly, like grounding a lightning strike.
"You exist."
His jaw clenched.
"You don't need to fix me."
"I don't want to fix you."
"Then why stay?"
She leaned in.
Whispered like it was gospel:
"Because no one stayed for me, either."
Later that night, they messaged again.
Not much.
Just:
Akiro: Still wearing the hoodie?
Yumi: It's asleep on my chair. I think it misses you.
Akiro: Jealous.
Yumi: It's okay. I only kiss the real one.
He stared at the message for a long time.
Smiling.
And for once — just once — he didn't delete what he typed back.
Akiro: Then don't disappear.I've lost enough already.
But while they were writing that…
A figure stood across the street from Akiro's apartment.
Cigarette glowing in the dark.
Watching.
Waiting.
Breathing like hate.
And the past?The past doesn't knock.
It breaks the door down.