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๐๐๐ฝ๐
๐๐พ๐: Hแดสแดแดสษชสแด Aแดแดsสษช (Sแดษดแดขแด)
๐๐๐๐๐๐: 172๐๐ข (5๐๐ฉ8)
๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐๐ผ๐๐๐๐: BฬธOฬธNฬธTฬธEฬธNฬธ
๐พ๐๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐๐พ๐ผ๐๐๐๐: ๐๐ถ๐ด๐ต ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ธ ๐๐๐ฏ๐ท๐ฒ๐ฐ๐
๐พ๐ผ๐๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐๐๐: ๐๐ฐ๐๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ป๐๐ฒ๐๐๐ถ๐ด๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐ผ๐ป
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
"๐๐ฌ๐ซ'๐ฑ ๐ช๐ฌ๐ณ๐ข, ๐ฌ๐ฏ ๐ฆ'๐ฉ๐ฉ ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ฑ"
The first time you met Haruchiyo Akashi, you were young enough to mistake curiosity for courage.
Your families had gone out together countless times before, but that afternoon was the first time you had paid any real attention to Senju's older brothers. Takeomi had been loud, perpetually involved in whatever nonsense Senju was causing, whereas Haruchiyo seemed content to remain at the edge of every gathering, existing just outside the circle of conversation.
The scars were what caught your attention. Children were cruelly honest creatures. Most would have stared and then looked away when caught. You simply walked up to him.
Sanzu glanced up from where he sat on a park bench, one elbow draped lazily across the backrest.
You pointed directly at your own mouth.
A brief silence followed before his eyes narrowed slightly.
"You know you're not supposed to ask people things like that."
Then, after a moment, you added, "But I really wanted to know, though."
To your surprise, a laugh escaped him.
Just enough to suggest he found something amusing.
"You've got terrible manners."
"Huh?! But mom says curiosity is important!"
"Well, your momโs a liar."
You pout, and somehow, despite the insult, that became the beginning.
Your friendship formed without either of you noticing it.
Whenever the families gathered together, you inevitably found yourself beside him. If Senju was climbing trees and Takeomi was yelling at someone, then Haruchiyo was usually sitting somewhere nearby, quietly observing the chaos while pretending not to enjoy it.
You quickly became an inconvenience he tolerated.
Then an inconvenience he expected.
Then something else entirely.
One evening, while the adults sat around a restaurant table discussing matters that seemed impossibly boring to children, you slid into the empty seat beside him.
"Iโm not stupid; I can see that."
He sighed dramatically before turning the cover toward you.
Recognition crossed his features.
"You know (favourite manga)?" He asked.
"Know it? Itโs literally my favourite!" I exclaimed.
For the first time that evening, Haruchiyo smiled.
From then on, conversations became easier. Books led to films. Films led to music, and arguments followed naturally after that. The two of you disagreed on nearly everything, which only seemed to make the friendship stronger.
Unfortunately, childhood had a habit of ending when nobody was paying attention.
You and your parents moved across the city.
School became more demanding.
At first there were still phone calls and messages. Then the messages became occasional. Eventually they stopped altogether.
Only Senju remained constant.
And every now and then, when old memories resurfaced, you would casually ask about Haruchiyo.
The reaction was always strange.
One afternoon, you and Senju were on a phone call while she unpacked boxes into her new apartment; you found yourself reminiscing and laughing about something Haruchiyo had done years earlier.
"Oh man, he was always such an odd one. I wonder what he's doing now." You comment with your mind already in the clouds.
The change was subtle, but you knew her too well to miss it.
โHmn?โ You hum absentmindedly. "Shouldnโt what?"
The response was so oddly serious that you almost laughed.
"Why are you acting like that?" You said half-joking.
Senju carefully folded a shirt before answering.
"Because some things are better left alone."
The explanation made no sense, and when you pushed further, she refused to elaborate. Eventually, seeing how visibly uncomfortable the topic made her, you stopped asking altogether. And, given enough time, you stopped thinking about him as well.
Years later, life appeared to have aligned perfectly. You had secured a position you genuinely enjoyed. You had moved closer to your workplace. Closer to Senju, closer to old memories. It felt as though everything was finally settling into place.
The first odd occurrence barely registered.
A coffee appeared at your desk one morning.
Your exact regular order.
Feeling skeptical, you go ask the receptionist if they had seen anyone leave the drink at your desk.
โYour boyfriend!โ They replied cheerfully.
โI donโt have a boyfriendโฆโ
Their face twisted in confusion. โYouโฆdonโt?โ
I tried to brush off the look they gave and told them not to worry about it. However, the second occurrence was harder to dismiss. Then came the flowers. Then the persistent feeling that someone was watching.
Only a series of small incidents which, individually, meant very little and collectively felt impossible to explain. Still, you dismissed them.
After all, nobody wants to believe they are being observed. But then the truth revealed itself on a rainy evening.
The city gleamed beneath the storm, every streetlight fractured across wet pavement like shattered gold. You were halfway through the dim parking structure, the echo of your footsteps swallowed by the concrete silence. Rain hammered outside, urging you to dig frantically through your purse for the car keysโyou refused to be drenched over something so trivial. But then, your fingers brushed against something unfamiliar. Nestled inside your bag was a small gift box, one you knew you hadnโt placed there. A chill crawled up your spine. Whoever was behind these twisted games had struck again. Without hesitation, you hurled the box away without giving it a second thought.
"That's a disappointing reaction." A familiar voice emerged from the shadows.
Standing beneath fluorescent lights.
Scars you would have recognized anywhere.
For several seconds, neither of you spoke.
Haruchiyo studied you with unsettling intensity, as though comparing the woman before him to a memory he had spent years preserving.
When he finally spoke, there was something unexpectedly fragile beneath the calm.
The statement wasn't angry.
That was what made it disturbing.
A strange expression crossed his face.
As though a tension he had carried for years had finally loosened.
"There we go." He praised.
The words were so quiet you almost missed them. Yet his expression was so sick and twisted that you couldnโt help but put even more distance between you both.
What followed should have felt like a reunion.
Instead, it felt like stepping into a memory that had never truly belonged to you.
The longer he spoke, the quieter the world around you became.
"The coffee," he said simply. "You always stop at the cafรฉ on Fridays, but you started skipping it, so i made it my job to bring you one every Friday. Reception wouldn't give me access at first, so I told them I was your boyfriend."
He tilted his head, studying your expression with quiet curiosity.
"I really thought you'd recognise the lilies."
"And the gift?" you whispered.
His gaze drifted to the small box lying where you had discarded it, rainwater collecting around its edges.
A faint sigh escaped him.
He crossed the distance between you, crouched, and lifted it from the wet concrete with surprising care. Brushing a thumb across the lid, he opened it as though handling something irreplaceable.
Nestled inside was a worn first-edition copy of the manga the two of you had devoured as childrenโthe one you'd borrowed from him so many times the spine had begun to split.
"You left it at my house," he answered softly. "You said I should keep it safe until next time."
He smiledโnot triumphantly, but with a shit eating grin that made your skin crawl.
The rain drummed steadily against the concrete. I steadied myself as I got ready to run far away from the man I once called my friend.
"Don't move, or I'll shoot."
He warned in a low tone. I paused, immediately noticing the gun he had pulled from his back pocket.
"Haru..." Your voice trembled. "Why?"
He looked genuinely puzzled.
The word lingered between you.
"You were never supposed to disappear."
His fingers rested lightly against the cover of the manga as he closed the distance between you two.
"I let years pass, thinking you'd find your way back."
"I won't make that mistake again."
You stood rooted beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, unable to look away from the boy you had once known and the man who had spent years preserving a place in his life that you no longer remembered occupying.
The rain continued long after the parking structure had fallen silent. By morning, there was no trace of the conversationโonly a damp cardboard box resting beneath the fluorescent lights, its lid left open beside a small set of car keys that had never made it to the ignition.
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๐พ๐ผ๐๐ ๐พ๐๐๐๐๐ฟ.
๐๐๐ก๐๐ ๐๐ฎ: โพ๏ธ๐ก๐ช๐ท๐ฐ๐ฒ๐ด๐พโฝ๏ธ
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