---
It was night.
Snow drifted gently outside, like the sky was crying in silence.
Chris lay in his bed, darkness swallowing his room whole, eyes locked on the ceiling above.
> "I wish they'd understand..."
he murmured, his voice barely louder than a breath.
His eyes slipped shut.
---
The next thing he knew—
He was standing on familiar ground. The old park.
The one he used to play in as a kid.
His breath caught.
There he was—his younger self. Maybe five years old. Laughing, knees covered in dirt, completely lost in a world where life still felt soft.
Chris tried to call out—but no sound came. Just silence.
Around him, shadows of old friends danced in the snowfall. Faces blurry. Names long forgotten.
They were laughing. Running.
Memories he didn't even know he still had.
The snow began to fall harder.
Chris reached out, trying to catch a flake—
It passed right through.
A chill ran down his spine.
"What's going on?"
His inner voice trembled.
Another kid sat beside Young Chris.
"Why's every kid scared of you… and every girl hung up on you?" the boy asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
A second chimed in. "He's got the looks... and he's dominant too."
"Yeah," Kid Chris smirked. "I'm better than y'all."
Chris—the real one—watched it all unfold.
And it hit him. Hard.
"You're not a prodigy like you think you are,"
he said, voice cracking, raw even in a dream.
Kid Chris looked up, locking eyes with him. "What do you mean? You're the one who thought we were better."
Chris stepped forward, clutching his head.
"Yeah… I did. I carried that lie like a crown.
But I know now—I'm nothing but an arrogant piece of crap…"
His voice broke.
"And you? Me? We're both assholes."
Silence.
Then—soft steps.
Kid Chris walked up and gently patted his head.
"Now you get it,"
he said with a small smile.
"And now… I know. They'll accept you.
Even her."
Chris blinked. "What do you mean?"
But Kid Chris just smiled—
and vanished. Like mist in the morning sun.
---
Morning.
Chris's eyes snapped open.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face.
"What a weird dream…"
he muttered.
But something felt different.
Lighter.
Less haunted.
Still half-asleep, he wandered out of the room barefoot.
He didn't notice it—
A tiny snowflake on the blanket.
Unmelted.
A dream?
Or… something else?
---
At school.
Chris walked in—headphones around his neck, coat draped over one shoulder.
He moved through the halls like a ghost. Quiet. Eyes low. Steps steady.
Passing the staff room window, something caught his eye.
A mirror.
He stopped.
Turned.
Faced it.
His reflection stared back—white hair with soft pink tips, crimson eyes.
Jaw sharp, but tired.
There was no anger anymore.
Just a boy trying to rebuild.
He ran a hand through his hair, fixed his collar, and said under his breath:
"Let's not be that guy again."
No one heard it.
But maybe… that was okay.
---
He turned the corner—
And nearly bumped into someone.
Papers flew into the air, caught in a breeze from an open window.
"Ah—sorry!" Airi gasped, scrambling to grab them.
Chris blinked. "You okay?"
He dropped to one knee, helping her gather them.
Airi froze for a second. Surprised.
Not just by the help, but by how quietly he did it.
They gathered the papers in silence.
"…Thank you," she said at last, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Chris handed her the last page.
"Sorry I've been weird lately. I'm trying."
She looked up. Her eyes softened.
"I know,"
she said gently.
"You don't have to explain it to me."
They stood up.
Airi smiled.
"You're not that guy anymore."
Chris blinked.
And for the first time in days—
His lips curved into something real.
A little broken.
A little new.
But real.
> "…Thanks."
His voice was quieter now. Softer.
They parted ways.
No drama.
No confessions.
Just… two people trying to understand each other.
---
—To be continued
~Rei
---
💬