That night, Kai lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
The room was dark, but his thoughts refused to settle. They moved slowly, dragging weight behind them, pressing against his chest until breathing felt deliberate. The pressure behind his eyes was familiar—something he had learned to endure over the years. The ache in his chest wasn't. That felt sharper. Closer.
His phone buzzed beside him.
He didn't reach for it.
It buzzed again.
Then again.
Kai exhaled and picked it up. "Yeah."
"You breathing?" Joro's voice came through the speaker, casual in tone, but not careless.
"Barely," Kai replied.
There was silence on the other end. Not awkward. Listening.
"So," Joro said quietly, "she told you."
Kai didn't answer.
"That bad?" Joro asked.
"It's not her," Kai said finally.
Joro straightened immediately. He had sensed it earlier, the moment Kai walked away. This wasn't embarrassment. This wasn't confusion. This was something older—something Kai never talked about unless it was already tearing him apart.
"What happened?" Joro asked.
Kai stared at the ceiling. "I thought I was past it."
Another pause.
"The girl?" Joro asked carefully.
"Yeah."
Kai's voice stayed even, but only because everything else was shaking underneath. "It came back. That feeling. Like I'm standing in front of someone who likes me… and all I can hear is how it ends."
Joro closed his eyes.
"I don't want to hear thoughts I can't forget," Kai continued. "I don't want to ruin something just by knowing too much. And I don't want to disappear the way I did back then."
His voice cracked.
That was when Joro couldn't hold back anymore.
"Kai," he said, voice low and raw, "you don't have to carry this alone."
Kai let out a quiet, hollow laugh. "I always do."
"You're scared," Joro said.
"I'm terrified."
Silence stretched between them.
"That's not because you don't like her," Joro said finally.
"I know."
"And that's what hurts," Joro replied. "Because you finally found someone to care for… and your past won't let you touch it."
Kai didn't respond.
"Just don't disappear completely," Joro said, his voice tight now. "At least let me know you're still here."
"I'll try," Kai said.
The call ended.
The weight didn't.
---
The next morning, Kai didn't go to school.
Sora noticed before anyone else.
She stood in the hallway, backpack on, staring at her brother's closed door. Normally, he would already be up—half-awake, half-annoyed, pretending he wasn't paying attention to anything. Today, there was nothing.
"Kai?" she called.
No answer.
She knocked once, then opened the door.
Kai was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
"You skipping school now?" she asked, trying to sound normal.
"Just tired," he replied.
Sora frowned. "You always say that when you're not okay."
Kai didn't answer.
She stood there for a moment, unsure what else to say. Then she nodded and stepped back into the hallway. Before closing the door, she looked at him again.
Something was wrong.
She didn't know what.
But she felt it.
---
At school, Kai's seat was empty.
Ayko noticed immediately.
She kept glancing toward the doorway, half-expecting him to walk in late, hair messy, acting like nothing had changed. When the bell rang and his seat was still empty, her fingers curled slowly around her pen.
"Did Kai say anything?" she asked.
Joro shook his head.
Ayko nodded. "Okay."
She didn't say more, but the silence pressed in anyway.
The second day passed.
Kai still didn't come.
Ayko told herself not to assume the worst. Yesterday had been heavy. Anyone would need time after something like that. She replayed the confession in her mind again and again, searching for mistakes.
Maybe she rushed him.
Maybe she should've waited.
She wasn't angry.
She was careful.
---
Lunch break came.
Kai still wasn't there.
The seat he usually occupied sat empty, untouched, like it was waiting for someone who had no intention of showing up. Ayko noticed it the moment she sat down. Her eyes drifted there again and again, as if looking long enough might make him appear.
Joro was quiet. Too quiet.
Mira tried to fill the space. "So… he's really not coming, huh?"
Ayko nodded slowly. "I don't think so."
Sora joined them a moment later, setting her tray down quietly. She glanced at the empty seat first. Then at Joro.
"He didn't eat breakfast either," she said. "He didn't even argue. That's how I knew something was wrong."
Ayko's fingers tightened around her spoon.
Mira sighed. "Kai has a habit of shutting down when things get serious."
Sora looked up sharply. "That's not true."
Mira hesitated. "I didn't mean—"
"He doesn't shut down," Sora said firmly. "He disappears when he thinks he's the problem."
The table went quiet.
Rin dropped her tray onto the table and sat down. "Or maybe he just doesn't know what he wants," she said bluntly. "Feelings aren't easy."
Ayko flinched. "I didn't expect an answer," she said softly. "I just didn't think he'd vanish."
"Silence is still an answer," Rin replied.
That was it.
Joro stood up.
His chair scraped loudly against the floor, turning a few heads nearby. His hands were shaking—not with anger, but with something held back too long.
"No," he said. "You don't get to say that."
Everyone froze.
"You don't get to reduce him to that," Joro continued, voice tight. "You don't know what silence costs him."
Sora stood too. "Joro… what aren't you telling us?"
Joro looked at her, and something in his expression broke.
"Kai isn't confused," he said. "He's scared."
Ayko's breath caught. "Scared of… me?"
"No," Joro said immediately. "Scared of himself."
He kept going, because if he stopped now, he wouldn't start again.
"He hears things people never mean to say. Thoughts they don't even realize they're thinking. All the time."
Sora's face went pale.
"When he dated someone before," Joro continued, "it destroyed him slowly. Every doubt. Every comparison. Every moment her feelings wavered—even when she smiled."
Ayko felt her chest tighten painfully.
"Love didn't comfort him," Joro said. "It drowned him. And when it ended, he didn't just lose her. He lost trust in himself."
Sora clenched her fists. "So now… when someone likes him—"
"It all comes back," Joro finished. "The noise. The fear. The certainty that it'll end the same way."
Ayko whispered, "So he thinks liking me means hurting me later."
Joro nodded. "Or hurting himself first."
Sora's voice trembled. "So he stayed home because he didn't want to hear anything."
"Yes," Joro said. "And because he doesn't trust himself not to run."
Silence fell hard.
Mira looked away. Rin said nothing.
"So…" Ayko said quietly, "…he's not avoiding me."
Joro shook his head. "No. He's running from the past."
Ayko lowered her gaze. "Then he's hurting himself trying not to hurt anyone else."
No one argued.
---
That night, Kai lay on his bed again, staring at the ceiling.
Unread messages glowed beside him.
Sora knocked once, softly this time, then walked away when he didn't answer.
Jealousy.
Confession.
Attention he never asked for.
And somewhere in all of it, Kai realized something Joro had known since that phone call—
You don't have to do anything wrong
to change everything.