The days dragged like winter without sunlight.
Ryuzí told himself he didn't care. He told himself he preferred it this way. No clingy idiot trailing him, no unnecessary noise, no constant teasing.
And yet, the halls felt too quiet. The rooftop too empty. Even the classroom buzz, filled with chatter and laughter, felt hollow.
Because Suki wasn't there beside him the way he always had been.
By Thursday, the ache had settled into Ryuzí's bones.
"Morning," Suki said softly, his smile gentle, distant.
Ryuzí swallowed hard. "...Morning."
Suki turned to his notebook, chatting with Kenji a few minutes later. He laughed, his eyes crinkling, the sound warm and bright.
But he didn't look at Ryuzí.
Not once.
Ryuzí's stomach twisted, jealousy sparking hot and bitter. Why him? Why not me?
His pen snapped in half in his grip, ink smearing across his fingers.
At lunch, Ryuzí didn't even bother going to the rooftop. He stayed in the classroom, arms crossed, eyes closed, pretending to nap.
But every time Suki laughed at something Aoi muttered, every time his voice rose a little too bright, Ryuzí's chest tightened painfully.
He bit his lip hard enough to sting.
I hate this. I hate it. I hate it.
After school, he tried walking home alone again. The streets stretched endlessly, the city alive around him, but his chest ached with emptiness.
He stopped at a vending machine, staring blankly at the glowing cans. Normally, Suki would shove a coin into the slot before he could choose, grinning as he handed him something ridiculous like strawberry soda.
Now, the machine hummed silently. His reflection stared back at him from the glass.
"...Idiot," Ryuzí muttered, slamming a coin in and buying black coffee he didn't even want.
The bitterness sat heavy on his tongue, but it didn't drown the ache.
That night, he lay awake, the ceiling fan spinning slowly above him. His phone buzzed once.
Suki again.
"Don't stay up too late. Big test tomorrow."
Ryuzí's chest tightened. His fingers hovered over the screen.
He typed: "Stop this. Stop being distant."
Deleted it.
"I want you back."
Deleted it.
He tossed the phone aside and buried his face in the pillow. His shoulders trembled.
"...Why do you do this to me," he whispered into the dark.
Friday came, and with it, the test. Normally, Suki would be panicking beside him, groaning about formulas, begging for last-minute explanations.
Today, Suki studied quietly with Aoi, scribbling furiously, his lips pressed tight in determination. He didn't even look Ryuzí's way.
The silence carved deeper than any noise.
Ryuzí stared at his test paper, the words swimming. His chest felt too tight, his throat burning. His pen scratched across the page, but all he could think about was the empty space beside him.
When the bell rang, he stormed out, fists clenched.
He wandered the city aimlessly, ignoring the rain clouds gathering overhead. Neon signs flickered, cars splashed through puddles, voices echoed from crowded shops.
But everywhere he looked, he saw Suki.
That ridiculous grin at a takoyaki stand.
That loud laugh echoing down an alley.
That bright hair bobbing ahead of him in the crowd.
Except none of it was real.
And each false glimpse twisted the knife deeper.
Ryuzí stopped under an overhang, chest heaving. His reflection stared back from a rain-slick shop window — pale skin, dark circles under his eyes, a scowl etched deep.
"...Pathetic," he muttered, his voice cracking.
But even then, the truth burned inside him.
He didn't want peace.
He didn't want quiet.
He wanted Suki.
And the weight of that truth was crushing him.
That night, the storm finally broke. Rain hammered against the glass, wind howling through the streets.
Ryuzí sat at his desk, books open but blurred through the haze in his eyes. His hand trembled around his pen. The ink smeared across the page as tears fell silently.
He clenched his fist, slamming it against the desk. "Damn it!"
The sound echoed through his empty room, drowned only by the rain.
He buried his face in his arms, shoulders shaking. "...I can't take this anymore."
Images of Suki flashed through his mind — every laugh, every tease, every moment he'd barged into his life like a storm. And now, the emptiness where that storm used to be.
Ryuzí's chest heaved as he whispered the words he'd been denying for so long. "...I want him. I want Suki."
The walls he had built for years were crumbling, and for once, he didn't care if they fell.