"You smell like... old books and rain and... unresolved trauma," she said, sniffing dramatically near my shoulder.
I side-stepped like she was contagious.
"Do you sniff everyone you meet?"
"Only the mysterious ones."
I looked at her hand still half-draped over my shoulder like we were besties in a sitcom.
She wasn't letting go.
"You're weird," I said plainly.
"I know, right?" she said like it was the highest compliment ever, then grinned so hard her eyes squinted.
"Seriously," I muttered, shaking my head. "Aren't there normal people you could be bothering right now?"
She swung her arm around my neck tighter. "But why bother normal when I've got you, Cloudy?"
I sighed.
Loudly.
She finally released me and did a little spin in front of me, walking backwards now with her hands behind her back like some anime character. Of course.
"Let's hang out tomorrow too," she said.
"I didn't say yes to today."
"Exactly. I believe in manifesting."
"You're manifesting my patience into the void."
"Aw, I knew you liked me," she said, doing a finger heart before skipping off like she was auditioning for a cereal commercial.
I stood there for a second.
Then slowly dragged a hand down my face.
What… even was she?
And why, for some reason, did I feel a little lighter?
****************************************
I got home finally.
Dropped my shoes by the door, let my bag slip off my shoulder like dead weight. The house was quiet, the way I liked it. Dim, warm light slipping through the curtains like it was shy.
I sighed, pushing the door closed behind me and dragging myself toward the stairs, already feeling the gravity of my room calling me back to silence.
"Shin, how was today?" my mom asked from the kitchen.
She was wearing her usual gray comfy trousers and that same faded apron she always cooked in—probably making something that smelled like soy and onions. Familiar. Steady.
"Like the usual," I said, not looking at her, already halfway up the stairs.
But it wasn't the usual.
Not with that girl—Zani—practically hijacking my whole brain like a loud pop-up ad that wouldn't close.
I shut my door behind me and stood in the stillness of my room for a second. Just...stood there. Trying to feel normal again. Whatever normal was for someone like me.
I dropped my bag on the floor and collapsed onto my bed, face-first. My room smelled like pinewood, dust, and whatever scent had settled in from old manga pages. The window was cracked open just slightly, letting in the cool late-afternoon air. My kind of air.
Quiet. Soft. Untouched by… well, girls who scream "Cloud boy" in public spaces.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. Everything felt off. Not bad. Not good. Just… disoriented. Like the world tilted a little to the left and forgot to tell me.
Zani.
She was like… noise in human form. A firecracker in a library. A glitter bomb inside a therapist's office. No filter, no volume control, no pause button. And somehow she managed to get lodged in my brain like a catchy song I didn't want to like.
Why did she want to talk to me, though?
She had that energy—like she belonged to the world. Someone who should be surrounded by people, friends, chaos, attention. And yet… here she was. Sitting beside me. Running under the rain. Calling me Cloud Boy like we'd known each other since birth.
And I—
I let her.
No one had ever broken through the silent barrier I built so aggressively around myself. Not even the teachers tried anymore. But Zani just… bulldozed it. With glitter.
I turned my head to look at my bookshelf.
Stacks of manga. Shelves full of characters who didn't demand anything from me. Who didn't ask questions. Who never laughed at how serious I was.
I grabbed one—Oyasumi Punpun. Flipped through the pages. But for the first time in a long time… I couldn't focus.
Because in the back of my head, I could still hear her voice.
"Boom. Knew it. Secret softie with cloudy boy trauma."
God.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe I was a little broken. A little clouded over.
And maybe, just maybe…
She was the kind of storm I didn't mind getting caught in.
--------
"Shinnnnn, dinner is ready!" my mom's voice rang from downstairs—somewhere between the kitchen and dining room. It had that sing-songy, mom-tone that meant you better come down before it gets cold.
I dragged myself off my bed like a sad anime protagonist, feet heavy on the stairs, the smell of food pulling me into the light.
On the table were bowls of steaming miso soup, a plate of teriyaki salmon, sticky white rice, and a side of pickled radish and sautéed greens. My mom always cooked like we had five mouths to feed instead of two.
She smiled when I sat down across from her, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She watched me like she always did—like she was waiting to catch me slipping into a feeling or something.
"Made any friends?" she asked, carefully casual, but her eyes gave her away.
She always asked that. Like one day the answer might change.
I didn't look up from my plate. "I prefer being alone."
"You've said that since you were five," she murmured, pouring me a glass of water. "Still doesn't sound any less lonely."
I didn't answer.
Because maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. I didn't really know. I'd gotten used to the silence being a part of me, like the way my room stayed dim, or how I always kept one earbud in even with no music playing.
But then—Zani. With her glitter and fanfic and hurricane laugh. She didn't ask for space in my brain. She just took it.
I kept eating quietly, pretending none of that existed.
But my mom didn't push. She just sat across from me, chewing slowly, like she was waiting for me to say more.
I didn't.
Not yet.