As John sat in their rowdy classroom the weight of the previous night pressed down on him like an anvil. The memory clung to his chest, tightening with each breath. Beside him, Ivan and Joseph sat in patient silence, their faces shaded with concern. They didn't interrupt. They didn't push. They simply waited—waited for John to find the words.
He finally did, though they came out fragile, barely above a whisper.
John: She… didn't take it well.
He paused, eyes staring at the floor as if the answers might be etched into the grain of the wood.
John: I didn't mean to hurt her, I swear. I just… I couldn't lie to her. She means a lot to me—I care about her more than I can explain—but… not like that. Not in the way she wanted me to.
His voice faltered then, cracking as the emotion rose up from the pit of his stomach and threatened to take over. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself.
John: She cried, guys. Right in front of me. And I… I just stood there. Like an idiot. Like I didn't know how to be human. I wanted to reach out, to say something, anything that would take that pain off her face. But what would that have meant? That I was taking it all back? That I'd pretend just to stop the tears? That would've been selfish. She deserved the truth—even if it broke her.
A long silence followed. Joseph turned his gaze to the window, his expression unreadable, though the tight line of his mouth suggested more emotion than he was letting on. Ivan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, giving John the kind of look you only give someone when you've been there yourself.
Ivan: That… must've been rough. For both of you.
John nodded slowly, the weight in his chest growing heavier by the second.
John: Yeah. And now she's not in school. I've checked—she hasn't been online, hasn't replied to any messages. I bet she's curled up in her room right now, hating me. Hating that I couldn't love her back the way she wanted.
Another silence filled the room, thicker this time. The kind that didn't ask for words. The kind that wrapped itself around bruised hearts and sat there, quietly acknowledging the ache.
Joseph: I didn't even know she felt that way about you.
Ivan: Same. But… you did the right thing, John. Seriously. It would've been worse if you pretended. You can't fake something like love. Not for long. And she… she'll realize that, eventually.
John let out a bitter breath, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.
John: I know. I keep telling myself that. But it doesn't make it hurt any less. I hate seeing her in pain. And I hate that I'm the one who caused it.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, jaw tight. His thoughts drifted again—to her.
Kana.
She always knew what to say when things didn't make sense. Her advice was never loud or rushed, but quiet, thoughtful—like she had the ability to peer into someone's soul and pluck out the truth they were too afraid to say out loud. John wished, more than anything, that she were here now. That she'd give him that piercingly honest kindness he relied on more than he liked to admit.
But she wasn't here.
And he couldn't bring her into this—not now. Not when he couldn't even make sense of what he was feeling himself. There was too much noise in his heart. Too much confusion wrapped up in guilt, and regret, and something else he couldn't name.
Maybe later. Maybe when the dust settled. But for now, he had to sit with it—the pain, the guilt, and the silence of two friends who didn't judge, but simply stayed.
Sometimes, that was enough.
*****
Rachel sat alone in her darkened room, curled up on the floor with one of her old teddy bears clutched tightly in her arms. Her eyes were bloodshot, dark circles forming beneath them, and her hair was a tangled mess—clear signs that she hadn't been able to sleep since John came to visit her the night before. She still wore the same outfit she had on when she met him, as if her body refused to let go of the events that had transpired.
Minutes passed, and she finally stood up, dragging herself to the bed where her phone lay. Her fingers shook slightly as she glanced at the screen. It was 3:20 PM. School had ended about twenty minutes ago, and she should've been going about her day, doing something—anything—to distract herself from the storm in her chest. But she couldn't. She couldn't focus on anything else.
With a deep, shaky sigh, she placed her phone back down and lay down again, curling herself into a ball on the bed. The doorbell rang, its sharp chime cutting through the silence of the house. She ignored it at first, sinking further into the pillow, as memories of the previous night replayed in her mind like an endless loop. John standing outside her door, the cold wind brushing against them both, his polite rejection of her confession. Her desperate kiss, an attempt to change his mind, and then her angry, disappointed rant, echoing in the empty street.
The tears started to form in her eyes again, but she quickly wiped them away, not wanting to give in to the pain. Not yet.
The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time, like a demand she couldn't ignore. Rachel sighed, feeling the weight of her emotions pressing down on her as she reluctantly got out of bed. She slowly made her way down the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. The house was eerily quiet, and for a moment, she almost wished she was still alone in her room, hiding from everything.
When she opened the door, she saw Leanne standing on the porch in her school uniform, a concerned look on her face. Rachel glanced down and noticed the paper bag in her hands—a bucket of ice cream, the kind she usually got when she wanted to cheer someone up.
Leanne gave Rachel a quick once-over, her eyes narrowing with understanding as she assessed the state her friend was in.
Leanne: Hey.
Rachel blinked, still processing the situation.
Rachel: Shouldn't you be at home right now?
Leanne: Not when you look like that. Are you going to let me in? I brought ice cream.
Rachel hesitated, then sighed. She stepped aside to let Leanne in, both of them heading into the living room where they set the bucket of ice cream down on the glass table.
They ate in silence, the cold, sweet taste of the ice cream contrasting with the emotional weight of the moment. As the bucket emptied, they both paused, spoons lingering in the melting ice cream.
Rachel didn't realize how much time had passed until she noticed that Leanne had stopped eating altogether. She had been watching Rachel the entire time—observing her, noting how dazed and absent-minded she seemed. Her hands were trembling slightly, the effort it took to hold everything in evident in the way she clutched the spoon.
Leanne knew her friend too well to let this continue.
Leanne: You know, there's no need to hold it in. You can let it all out.
Rachel blinked, surprised by the comment.
Rachel: Huh?... What are you talking about?
Leanne leaned back, folding her arms across her chest.
Leanne: Oh, you know what I mean.
Rachel could see the knowing look on Leanne's face and knew it was pointless to try to hide the truth any longer. Leanne saw right through her, just like always.
Rachel: I mean, what's the point? What's the point? What happened, happened. Letting it all out won't change anything. He already rejected me.
Leanne shook her head, her expression firm but kind.
Leanne: But… you still love him, don't you?
Rachel's gaze fell to the half-melted ice cream, her grip on the spoon tightening as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. She tried to suppress the wave of emotion rising inside her, but it was impossible.
Rachel: Of course I do… (her voice trembles) Of course I do, Leanne. I never stopped.
Her voice cracked on the last word, and she managed a weak smile, though it quickly faltered, unable to mask the pain in her heart.
Rachel: I didn't want to, I tried not to, but… I do. I still do.
She took a deep, shaky breath and looked up at Leanne, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Rachel: It hurts, okay? It hurts so much. And I feel so stupid for still feeling this way when he made it so clear—
Her words caught in her throat, and the dam broke. Her shoulders trembled as the tears finally spilled over. She covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled but raw.
Rachel: I just don't know how to stop loving him.
Leanne didn't say anything. She simply moved closer and pulled Rachel into a gentle embrace, cradling her head in her lap. Rachel's sobs were soft at first, then grew louder, more desperate, as her heart broke all over again.
As Rachel cried, her mind drifted back to the moments she had shared with John—the way he had treated her like a normal girl, the way he had waited for her after class, the way he had messaged her first. At first, she had told herself not to read too much into it, but how could she not? No one had ever made her feel so... seen.
Then came the night when Rachel discovered the truth. The night when everything she thought she knew about him shattered. She learned about his mother—the woman who had to work as a sex worker just to keep them fed. The woman who lived a life that no one should have to live, just so her son could survive. Rachel's heart broke for him as she heard the details of his life—the secrets he carried, the shame he'd tried so hard to hide. People would have judged him if they knew, so he spent his entire life lying about his home, pretending everything was normal just to feel like he fit in.
The pain in his voice when he told her everything, the raw emotion, was something Rachel would never forget. She could still feel it now, an ache that resonated in her chest, a feeling so deep that it left her breathless.
He wasn't cold or indifferent—he was just surviving. Surviving in a world that had given him no choice but to shut down and hide behind walls of defense.
And that's when Rachel made her decision. She wouldn't pity him. She wouldn't treat him like he was broken, like he needed fixing. Instead, she wanted to be the one place he could be soft, the one place where he didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't. She wanted to be the one person who could let him lay down his guard and just be.
That was when it happened. That was when Rachel fell for him, completely.
It wasn't because he was perfect—no, it was because he wasn't.
She loved him not despite his flaws, but because of them. Because she knew the pain he carried, and she wanted to help him carry it. She wanted to make it easier for him, even if it meant sacrificing a part of herself. She wanted to be the one who could love him through it all.
But just when she thought—maybe, just maybe—he felt the same way, he didn't.
The warmth of the memories now felt like a burn. Every glance, every laugh, every shared moment they'd had, every time he'd let her in just enough to think that something real might be happening between them, now felt like salt on an open wound. She had held on to those moments, hoping they meant more than they ever had.
But in the end, she realized the truth. She had given him all of her. Every piece of her heart. Every corner of her soul. And he hadn't wanted any of it.
Tears streamed down her face, and her sobs were muffled by the trembling of her hands as she pressed them against her mouth, trying to stop herself from breaking apart.
Why did he make me fall? she thought desperately. If he was never planning to catch me, why did he make me believe I could fly?
As Leanne sat beside Rachel, her eyes fixed on the girl curled up in her lap, she couldn't help but reflect on all the times she had seen Rachel so happy. So upbeat. So alive with excitement. And most of the time, it was because she was talking about him—John—or because she was with him. She had never seen Rachel more alive than when John was in the picture. It was as if the whole world lit up for her when he was around.
Leanne couldn't help but wonder,
How can you love someone this much?
How could she still shed tears for someone who clearly didn't feel the same?
She had already cried so much, yet here she was again, drowning in another wave of pain. Leanne's thoughts drifted to the countless times she had seen John smiling at his phone during the summer, that carefree grin he wore as he typed away, always so caught up in whatever was happening on the other side of the screen. It wasn't hard to figure out who was responsible for that smile. There was a girl on the other end of that phone, a girl who had to be the reason for that smile—the reason Rachel was here, crying her heart out.
Leanne gently ran her fingers through Rachel's hair, brushing it back from her face as her friend continued to sob. She could feel the weight of her pain, the heartbreak that seemed to consume her, and all Leanne could do was wait and be there for her.
As Leanne looked down at Rachel, still broken and vulnerable in her lap, she felt a growing anger rise in her chest. She didn't understand John, not really—not like Rachel did. She didn't know what kind of person he was or why he had hurt Rachel this way, but she knew one thing: Whoever this girl was that had made John smile so many times over the summer, she better be worth every tear Rachel was shedding.
Because if she wasn't, if she had been the one to lead Rachel down this path of heartache and abandonment, then Leann
e would never forgive her.
No one should make someone as beautiful and kind as Rachel feel this worthless. No one.
And she would make sure John knew that.