Chapter 10: The Silence Between Us

Aoi’s heart raced as she hurried down the street toward Ren’s house. His notebook, gripped tightly in her trembling hands, was heavy with the weight of his words. Pages upon pages of dark, unfiltered emotions flashed in her mind—his loneliness, his pain, and the overwhelming sense of isolation he had been drowning in. How had she been so blind? How had she spent so much time with him and never once seen this side of him?

Her legs felt weak, but she pushed herself forward, not allowing herself to stop. Every step seemed to echo the words written in Ren’s messy, desperate handwriting. She had always thought of Ren as quiet, perhaps withdrawn, but she had chalked it up to shyness. She never imagined that he was suffering in silence. That his silence was a cry for help she’d missed entirely.

Finally, Aoi reached his house. The familiar front door seemed so much more intimidating now. She stood there for a moment, catching her breath, trying to calm the storm inside her. But there was no time for hesitation. She needed to see him. She needed to know if he was okay.

Her hand raised to knock on the door, but no one answered. She tried again, louder this time. Still nothing.

“Ren?” Aoi called out, her voice laced with anxiety. She waited, but the house remained eerily quiet.

She knocked one more time, her hand shaking as the echoes of her knock seemed to deepen the stillness. The growing fear gnawed at her. Was he even home? Was he... okay? The thoughts circled her mind like a whirlwind. She had to find out.

With a shaky breath, Aoi reached for the doorknob. To her surprise, it turned easily in her hand. The door was unlocked.

Her heart pounded as she stepped inside, her shoes tapping lightly on the floor as she moved cautiously down the hallway. She had never been in Ren’s house before. The silence felt oppressive, almost suffocating, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. She glanced around nervously, her grip tightening on his notebook as she approached what she assumed was Ren’s bedroom door.

It was slightly ajar.

Aoi hesitated, swallowing the lump in her throat. She pushed the door open gently, her breath catching in her throat when her eyes landed on him.

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Ren was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. His face was pale, his eyes vacant, staring blankly at the empty space in front of him. He didn’t move. He didn’t acknowledge her presence. He looked like a ghost of the person she thought she knew.

Aoi’s heart dropped. She had expected him to be upset—maybe angry or embarrassed that she had read his journal—but this… this hollow emptiness was something she wasn’t prepared for.

“Ren?” Her voice was barely a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile silence around them.

No response. He didn’t even blink. His gaze remained fixed on some unseen point, as if he were lost in a world far beyond her reach.

Aoi took a hesitant step closer, her voice trembling. “Ren… it’s me. Aoi.”

Still nothing. The weight of the silence between them pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She had never seen him like this before. It was as though the Ren she had known—quiet but attentive, always listening even if he didn’t speak—had vanished, leaving only this shell behind.

She knelt down beside him, placing the notebook gently on the floor. Her eyes searched his face for any sign of life, any hint that he was still there, but all she saw was emptiness. A dull, distant look that made her stomach churn with worry.

“I read your notebook,” Aoi said, her voice shaky. “I saw… everything.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered the words on those pages—the words that had been written in desperation, in isolation. The lines that spoke of his feelings for her, his loneliness, his self-hatred. And worse, the final pages that hinted at something darker, something she didn’t want to believe was real.

“I didn’t know you were feeling this way,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her words hung in the air, unanswered. Ren remained still, as though he hadn’t heard her at all.

Aoi’s chest tightened, tears spilling down her cheeks as she reached out to him, her hand gently touching his arm. “Ren, please. Say something. Anything.”

For a brief moment, Ren’s eyes flickered, just the slightest shift in his expression, like a crack in the mask he was wearing. But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared, and the blank stare returned, deeper and more distant than before.

Aoi’s heart ached as she realized just how far gone he was. This wasn’t something she could fix with a few kind words or by simply being there. This wasn’t something she had ever dealt with before. She had thought she knew Ren, but this... this was a part of him he had kept hidden, and now that she saw it, she wasn’t sure how to pull him back from it.

Her tears came faster now, the reality of the situation crashing down on her. She had been so caught up in her own world, her own feelings, that she had failed to see what was happening to the person sitting right beside her every day.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, Ren,” she said, her voice barely audible through her tears. “Please, let me help you. I’m here now.”

But the silence that followed was louder than anything she had ever heard. It was suffocating, unbearable. She wanted to scream, to shake him, to do anything that might get a response. But all she could do was sit there, helpless, as the boy she cared about slipped further away.

Aoi stayed there, kneeling beside him for what felt like an eternity. The room was cold, the shadows growing longer as the sun began to set outside the window. But she couldn’t leave. She wouldn’t. Not when he was like this.

She wiped her tears away, though more continued to fall. There had to be a way to reach him, to pull him back from whatever dark place he was in. But how? How could she fix something this broken?

As the minutes ticked by, Aoi found herself staring at the notebook she had placed on the floor beside her. It felt like the only connection she had to him now. The words in it were his, even if they were filled with pain and sorrow. They were the only thing left that could speak for him.

And that realization hit her harder than anything else.

Ren had been trying to tell her all along. Through every page of that notebook, every scribbled thought, he had been crying out for help. And she had missed it.