Chapter 4: Overheard

The corridor was quiet as Ren walked, his footsteps soft against the polished floor. It was early enough that most students were still lingering in the cafeteria or outside, savoring the last bits of their lunch break. Ren moved purposefully, as if trying to slip through the cracks of the world unnoticed. It was his way—moving from one class to another like a shadow, hoping that, for once, he might actually become invisible.

He was almost to his usual hideaway by the outdoor benches when a burst of laughter echoed from around the corner. Ren paused, recognizing the sound instantly. Aoi’s laughter, bright and full of life. The kind of sound that didn’t just fill a room but could transform it, like a splash of color on a blank canvas. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but the pull was irresistible. Aoi was part of his daily life now, even if only from a distance. And sometimes, hearing her was all he had.

He moved closer, careful to keep out of sight. He peeked around the corner, just enough to see her standing with a small group of friends. There was Kana, a girl from their class who was always quick with a smile, and Saki, who had a habit of twirling her hair when she was nervous. They were all gathered near the lockers, leaning in as Aoi spoke. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“I’m thinking of confessing to him,” Aoi said, her voice barely above a whisper, though it carried across the hallway with ease.

The words sent a jolt through Ren, and he felt his stomach twist. He knew he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be listening, but he was rooted to the spot. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs, each beat a reminder of his vulnerability. He forced himself to keep watching, even though every instinct told him to turn and walk away.

“Seriously?” Kana asked, her eyes wide with surprise. “Kaito Matsuda, right?”

Aoi nodded, her face breaking into a shy, almost bashful smile. “Yeah. I know it’s probably stupid. He’s… I mean, I doubt he even knows I exist, but I just feel like I have to try, you know? Just to get it out there. Maybe then, I’ll be able to move on.”

Ren’s grip on the strap of his bag tightened until his knuckles turned white. Kaito Matsuda. The name was familiar, of course. Kaito was the kind of person who was impossible to ignore, with his confident stride and easy smile. Ren had seen him a few times—always surrounded by friends, always the center of attention. He was the sort of person who seemed to glide through life, untouched by the struggles that weighed down everyone else.

Ren felt a rush of anger, irrational and sharp, at the thought of Kaito. Of course, Aoi would fall for someone like him. Why wouldn’t she? Kaito was everything Ren wasn’t. He was someone people noticed, someone people admired. Ren was just a quiet boy who sat alone, scribbling in his notebook and avoiding eye contact. He knew, deep down, that he could never compete with someone like Kaito, but hearing it confirmed, seeing the hope and excitement in Aoi’s eyes—it was unbearable.

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He forced himself to stay still, his feet glued to the floor as he watched Aoi’s friends erupt into a chorus of encouragement. They spoke over one another, their voices blending into a whirlwind of enthusiasm.

“Oh, you definitely should!” Saki said, her hands clasped together as if she were already imagining the romantic possibilities. “You two would look so cute together!”

“Yeah,” Kana agreed, nudging Aoi playfully. “You’ve been crushing on him for ages. It’s about time you did something about it!”

Aoi laughed, a soft, nervous sound. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s so… He’s way out of my league, don’t you think?”

“Nonsense!” Saki protested, shaking her head. “You’re amazing, Aoi. And besides, Kaito would be lucky to have someone like you.”

Ren’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again with every word they spoke. He could almost feel the pieces of himself slipping away, scattering in the wind like ashes. A part of him wanted to run, to escape the pain that was clawing its way through him, but he stayed. He needed to hear this, needed to confront the truth that he had been trying to avoid.

He took a step back, finally allowing himself to turn away. His hands were shaking as he clutched his bag, and he bit down hard on his lip, forcing himself to keep moving. He walked quickly, almost stumbling in his haste to put distance between himself and the laughter that had once been a comfort. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, each step feeling heavier than the last.

By the time he reached the empty classroom where he often hid, Ren could barely breathe. He slid into his usual seat by the window, the one with the view of the cherry trees that lined the courtyard. Outside, the leaves were beginning to change, their edges tinged with the first hints of autumn. It was a reminder that time was moving forward, even as he felt trapped in place, unable to escape the confines of his own mind.

He opened his notebook, the one place where he could pour out his thoughts without fear of judgment. His hand shook as he began to write, the pen scratching across the paper with a desperation that matched the ache in his chest.

She loves someone else.

The words looked back at him, stark and unfeeling. He stared at them, willing them to change, but they remained the same, an unyielding reminder of the truth he couldn’t ignore. Aoi loved someone else, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He wrote more, letting the words spill out in a chaotic, jumbled mess. His feelings were tangled, raw and jagged, and he struggled to make sense of them. He wrote about the way Aoi’s smile had brightened his days, the way her laughter had been a balm to his loneliness. He wrote about the hope he had dared to feel, the small, fragile flicker of light that had kept him going. And he wrote about the pain, the sharp, relentless ache that had taken root in his chest, threatening to consume him.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, lost in his thoughts, but eventually, the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch break. He closed his notebook, tucking it back into his bag with a care that felt almost reverent. It was his only solace, the one place where he could be honest with himself, even when the truth was too painful to bear.

As he stood up, he glanced out the window one last time. The world outside looked the same, unchanged and indifferent, and he realized with a hollow sense of resignation that his pain meant nothing to anyone else. He was alone in his suffering, just as he had always been, and the weight of that knowledge settled over him like a shroud.

He walked to his next class, his steps slow and measured, as if he were moving through a dream. The faces of his classmates blurred together, their voices a distant hum that he could barely register. He was trapped in his own world, a world of muted colors and unspoken words, and he wondered if he would ever find a way out.

For now, all he could do was keep moving, one step at a time, hoping that somehow, someday, the ache in his chest would fade. But deep down, he knew that as long as Aoi remained in his life, his silent cries would never truly be heard.