As I walked down the halls of the senior high school building, my steps grew strange—my feet felt like four, my body like two. Someone was behind me… or perhaps walking with me. The ceiling and walls pressed in, shrinking, while the floor shifted as though it danced beneath me. My pace faltered.
"You're such a clueless asshole, Ambram—an echo of a psychopath, hehe."
I was hallucinating again. His voice. That mocking tone.
"Poor Felix. Not me—but poor you." His laugh skittered down my spine.
It was him again. Why now? What triggered him?
I felt as though I were floating, his breath at my neck, his hand pressing between my shoulders. His giggles rattled in my skull.
"Just give in, Felix. Give in, and I'll show you the beauty of a free mind."
His whisper was hot against my ear, his chin heavy on my shoulder. I could feel his grin.
"Let's make the world a better place."
His presence was suffocating, dense. My chest tightened, and yet—there was warmth. Comfort. If I let him take over, would it change me forever?
"Not really," he murmured, stepping into view without ever blinking. "You're still part of me, and I of you. It depends on when you surrender, for how long. But it won't change this truth—we are bound. Forever. Not even death will tear us apart."
And just like that, the walls and ceiling stilled. My feet grew light again. He was gone.
But the choice he offered was an illusion. No matter when or how I gave in, the outcome would never change. To the world, I hardly mattered. Maybe they'd even prefer him.
That night, I returned to the dorm. The place was quiet, clean, unnervingly still. Kyoi's room was silent, too—too silent. Usually, music would thunder from behind his door, lights blazing, every device alive. That was when guilt sank into me like lead. I had really hurt him.
I climbed the stairs to my room, dropped my things, and showered quickly. But every step back down toward his door felt heavier, pressing the guilt deeper into me. I knocked softly.
"Kyoi?" I pressed my ear to the door. "Kyoi, please open up. Can we talk?" My lips trembled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean the things I said. I was angry, I let it spill on you, and you didn't deserve it. I really am sorry."
I leaned my forehead against the door, sighing, and knocked once more.
The lock clicked. The door cracked open. His eyes were red, swollen.
"You're a dickhead, you know that."
My heart sank. Seeing him cry because of me tore me open. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
He frowned. "I don't wanna hear it."
I hesitated, my arms twitching, wanting to pull him into a hug. He noticed.
"That's such a corny way to comfort me," he muttered. "Guess you never upset people this bad before."
"No," I admitted. "Just you. Because you're the only friend I have. The only one I trust." My smile was awkward, my arms stretched open anyway.
He tapped my chest with the back of his hand. "I don't like hugs." He tried to hide it, but I could see the crack in his armor.
"I'm sorry!" he sobbed suddenly.
I chuckled softly. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have raised my voice. Or said what I did."
His head fell against my shoulder, his sniffles muffled against me.
The night ended in truce. Broken words mended. For now, at least.
June 30, 2024. Sunday. To make it up to Vergel, I took him back to BlueSea Restaurant. Lobster, buttered and seasoned. Plates of seafood. Laughter easing the weight.
Afterwards, we stepped onto the sidewalk, the late afternoon light soft around us.
"I'll head back to the university. There's something I need to take care of," I said.
"Well, I'll come too. I'll help—as VP." He grinned, insisting. I couldn't refuse, not after what I'd said to him before.
We boarded the bus. It was nearly empty, and we slipped into the back seats. The air was warm, mellow. A shaft of sunlight poured through the window, catching Kyoi's cheek, softening his pale skin, turning his jet-black hair into strands of midnight silk. His doe eyes glowed, brown flecked with gold.
I realized then—I had never looked at him this way before. Not closely. Not carefully.
He sat beside me, headphones in, phone glowing faintly in his hands. I stared past the empty rows ahead, but I felt less alone, less haunted, simply because he was there.
Kyoi was never afraid of me. Not of my dead gazes. Not of the shadows clawing in me. Not of my silence, nor my fractured mind.
Unlike anyone else, he stayed.
He was a sunflower that faced the moon.