The silence didn't leave.
It hung there like smoke, like the ghost of a scream no one had the strength to release.
Kevin sat at the edge of the bed, spine curled, as if the weight of everything he'd said was too much, even for him.
I watched him.
His fists were clenched.
His lips trembled — like he had something to say, but couldn't find the words.
And then, again, he bowed his head. Submission.
And for one fractured second...
I just wanted to kneel in front of him.
Wrap my arms around his neck.
Bury my face in his shoulder like I used to when we were kids.
When the world was too big, too cruel,
and he was the only warm thing left in it.
But I didn't move.
Because if I touched him now…
I wouldn't let go.
And I've already broken too many pieces of myself trying to keep people close.
My voice trembled.
My eyes — bloodshot, stung with tears I was too proud to shed.
His return stirred too much in me.
I wanted to burst.
Every locked-away emotion
scratching to be seen.
"I tried… I thought I was protecting you," he said.
Like that explained everything.
Like it made the abandonment any easier to live with.
My throat tightened.
He thought silence was protection.
He thought love meant leaving.
He thought he could vanish
and still hold space in my chest like a promise.
I took a shaky breath and stood.
His head lifted. slowly.
"You think protecting someone means keeping them safe," I said softly.
"But sometimes… protecting someone means staying."
My voice cracked. I didn't care anymore.
I'd thought it a thousand times before,
but nothing could undo the ache.
"Or at least telling them why you left."
He flinched, barely.
But I saw it.
His nervous shift.
His overwhelmed emotions simmering just below.
Good.
I stepped back, toward the door.
But my legs felt heavy.
Stay, my heart whispered.
Go, my mind hissed.
Just one second. One step.
Maybe if he said my name now, gently,
like he used to...
Maybe I'd fall again.
Ryu, don't do this.
Ryu, stay.
Please.
But he said none of that.
He just stared — into space.
Broken. Silent.
Like he always did.
I swallowed hard, turned the doorknob.
"You want to protect me?" I said, eyes on the wood.
"Then don't follow me."
I paused.
Say something.
Just one thing, Kevin.
Tell me I'm wrong.
Tell me to stay.
Tell me you still know the girl I used to be.
...Nothing.
I opened the door.
Cool corridor air brushed my skin.
"If you come after me tonight…"
I turned back. Met his hollow, desperate eyes.
I hated how blunt his silence was.
"…then don't ever look for me again."
And I meant it.
Even if it killed me.
--
Outside — a few minutes later
The moment I stepped out, the air was thick.
Heavy with the promise of rain.
My boots tapped against the pavement. Steady.
But inside, nothing was steady.
What if I made a mistake?
What if this was the last time I saw him?
What if he really was trying, and I just didn't see it?
My fists clenched.
I wanted to scream.
Because it hurts.
I wanted to cry —
but knew these years wouldn't reach him.
I wanted to run back.
Kick the door open.
Hold his face and whisper:
"Then let's try again."
But I didn't.
Because some ghosts only learn to haunt
when you keep feeding them your breath.
And when he left years ago…
I made my decision:
Never make someone carry the weight of my feelings without asking them.
The first drop of rain hit my shoulder.
Then another.
Soft at first. Then louder.
I didn't run.
I let it pour.
Let it wash my skin, my guilt.
I cried silently.
The rain mourned with me.
Like the world was giving me its condolences.
My chest cracked like thunder.
Years ago,
I ran into his arms.
Tonight, I ran out of his arms
And this time, I took the pain with me
Not him.