The next morning, I walked into school with my chest pounding. Every step felt heavier than the last, but I told myself it was worth it. Today was the day. Miashi would read my confession, and maybe—just maybe—my life would finally change.
I took my usual seat near the back of the classroom, pretending to read from my notebook while sneaking glances at her desk. She walked in a few minutes later, her hair tied neatly, her laughter bright as she chatted with her friends. My heart leapt. This was it. She would see the note. She would know.
When homeroom ended, I saw her open her locker. My throat tightened as her eyes scanned the folded piece of paper. For a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then her lips curved into a smile—one that made my heart nearly stop. She's smiling… she actually smiled.
But then she turned to her friends, and my world began to crack.
Miashi held the note up for them to see, her voice loud enough for the whole hallway. "Can you believe this? Yukiro actually thinks I'd like him!" Her words were sharp, each one cutting deeper than the last.
Her friends erupted into laughter. Some clutched their stomachs, others pointed toward me, their faces twisted with amusement. "Seriously? Him? That creep?" one girl snickered. "He's pathetic!" another added.
My body froze. The hallway blurred around me, voices echoing like cruel thunder. I wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor, but my legs refused to move. I had dreamed of this moment for so long, and instead of warmth, all I felt was ice spreading through my veins.
Miashi wasn't done. She stood on her tiptoes, lifting the note high for everyone to see. "This is hilarious. Who in their right mind would want to be with someone like him? He's nothing. A ghost. A loser." She tore the note in half, then in half again, until all that remained were tiny scraps of paper fluttering to the ground.
The sound of tearing paper echoed louder than a scream in my ears.
Laughter exploded around me. The walls closed in, and I realized every pair of eyes in the hallway was on me. Some students whispered, others mocked me outright. I caught words like pathetic, desperate, disgusting. My chest ached so badly I thought it would cave in.
I couldn't breathe.
I turned and ran. I didn't care where. My legs carried me blindly up the stairs, past classrooms, past the ringing of the next period bell, until I burst through the door onto the school rooftop. The sky stretched endlessly above me, the cool breeze brushing against my burning cheeks.
I stumbled forward, gripping the cold metal railing. My hands shook violently as I leaned over, staring at the ground stories below. My heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the world.
This is it, I thought. This is all I'll ever be. Nothing. Less than nothing.
For seventeen years, I had endured the abuse, the loneliness, the silence. I had swallowed every insult, every beating, every betrayal, telling myself that maybe one day things would change. That maybe one day, I would find someone who cared.
And yet here I was, broken and humiliated for daring to hope.
Tears blurred my vision as I leaned further over the railing. My body trembled, caught between fear and release. Would it hurt? Would it be quick? The thought of ending it all wrapped around me like a cruel comfort. At least then, the pain would stop. At least then, I wouldn't have to keep pretending I was strong.
But as the wind whipped against my face, something inside me whispered, Not yet.
I don't know why. Maybe it was cowardice. Maybe it was the faintest shred of stubbornness left in me. But I stepped back, collapsing onto the cold concrete of the rooftop. My sobs tore out of me, raw and unrestrained, echoing into the empty sky.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Eventually, the rooftop door creaked open. My homeroom teacher stood there, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicked from my tear-streaked face to the railing, then back again.
Without a word, he walked over and sat beside me. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until he finally spoke.
"Yukiro… is this really what you want?" His voice wasn't cruel, but it wasn't warm either. It was steady, like someone who had seen too much to be surprised anymore.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat was raw, my body numb.
He sighed, standing to his feet. "Come with me."
I followed, my legs unsteady, my mind blank. He led me down the stairs, through the hushed corridors, until we reached the principal's office. The principal sat behind his desk, his sharp eyes narrowing as we entered.
The teacher spoke first. "I found him on the rooftop. He… he looked like he was about to jump."
The principal's expression darkened. He folded his hands on the desk, his gaze locking onto mine. "Yakiro Haruto. Do you understand what you almost did?"
I lowered my head, shame burning through me. Words tangled in my throat.
"You think ending your life will solve everything?" the principal continued, his voice firm. "Do you know how many students I've seen walk this same path, thinking there's nothing left for them? You're wrong. Life is cruel, yes. People are cruel. But if you throw everything away now, you'll never know what could have been different."
His words hit me harder than any slap or insult ever had. They weren't filled with pity—they were filled with conviction.
"You don't get to decide your worth based on the laughter of others. You don't get to surrender just because they want you to. If you're breathing, then there's still a chance to change everything."
For the first time in my life, an adult wasn't dismissing me. He wasn't ignoring me. He was… speaking to me. Directly. Like I mattered.
Tears welled in my eyes again, but this time, they weren't just from despair. There was something else. Something faint. A spark.
The principal leaned back, his expression softening slightly. "Yukiro, I won't pretend things will get easier overnight. But listen to me. One day, you will find your place in this world. One day, you'll look back and realize you were stronger than all of them. Don't throw that chance away."
My chest tightened as his words sank in. For years, I had heard nothing but hatred and disgust. And now, here was someone telling me… to keep living. To fight.
That night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, his words replayed in my mind. Don't throw that chance away.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. I didn't know if the bullying would stop, or if my loneliness would fade. But for the first time, I felt something new. Something fragile, but real.
Hope.
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