They both stepped inside, the quiet of the house wrapping around them like a heavy, suffocating blanket. Each step seemed to echo in the stillness, amplifying the silence that hung thick in the air.
Kokoro and Nezumi slowly removed their shoes at the entrance, the soft shuffle of their movements almost too loud in the emptiness. They paused for a moment, the weight of the day lingering between them, before turning to head upstairs.
As they stepped toward the staircase, Kokoro's gaze shifted—almost instinctively—to the corner of the hallway. And then, everything stopped.
A pitch-black shadow stood there, unmoving, as if it had been there all along, waiting.
But it wasn't just the shadow that made her blood run cold.
It was the eyes.
Blood-red eyes.
They glowed from the darkness, piercing the air like a sharp, unforgiving gaze. Unblinking. Unrelenting. They were fixed on Kokoro and Nezumi, and in that moment, the world seemed to narrow, to shrink, until it was just the two of them and the eyes.
Kokoro's breath hitched.
Her pulse hammered in her ears, drowning out everything else, leaving her trembling in the grip of something she couldn't understand, couldn't explain. The shadow didn't move, but it felt alive, watching, waiting.
The terror crept up from the depths of her chest, slow and suffocating.
Her legs went numb.
She tried to move, but her body refused to obey. Her knees buckled under the pressure, and she collapsed to the ground. Her hands scraped against the cold floor, the sensation sharp and jarring.
Her chest tightened, her lungs struggling to pull in air. The glowing eyes never wavered, never blinked, and they seemed to pierce deeper with each breath she took.
The world felt impossibly small, the fear tightening around her like a vice.
Nezumi's voice broke through the heavy silence, sharp and frantic, the panic lacing her words evident.
"KOKORO! ARE YOU OKAY? SOMETHING HAPPENED!"
The urgency in her voice snapped Kokoro back to reality, but her mind was still locked in the horror of what she had seen. She tried to focus, but the image of the glowing red eyes was burned into her vision, a haunting afterimage that refused to fade.
And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the shadow was gone.
One moment, it was there—looming, oppressive, its eyes staring through her very soul—and the next, it was simply... not.
Kokoro's breath was shallow, her body trembling uncontrollably, her hands still pressed to the floor as if to anchor herself. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to steady the chaos swirling inside her chest. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Kokoro slowly pushed herself to her feet. Her legs were shaky, but she stood, the weight of the moment pressing down on her.
She turned to Nezumi, her voice barely more than a whisper, though it carried the fragile reassurance she was trying to convince herself of.
"I… I'm okay." She paused, trying to steady her breathing. Her gaze flickered to the spot where the shadow had been, but it was empty, nothing but the dim light of the hallway. "Maybe it was just my imagination."
She forced a smile, but it felt hollow, fragile. The fear that still gripped her heart couldn't be shaken so easily.
Nezumi gave Kokoro a concerned look, her voice soft but trying to sound casual.
"Did you sleep well last night?"
Kokoro, without missing a beat, flashed a teasing smile and replied, her tone playful yet filled with affection.
"Yes, *mom*, I did."
The sarcasm in her words was lighthearted, and as soon as she said it, both of them couldn't help but laugh.
It wasn't just any laugh—it was the kind of laughter that made everything feel a little lighter, a little warmer. It was the kind of moment where all the heaviness in the world seemed to disappear for just a bit. Kokoro's joke, though a little cringey, hit the right note, and it only made their laughter louder and more genuine.
Nezumi smiled, her eyes softening. The simple, playful exchange was a reminder of how much they meant to each other—how, even in the midst of everything, they could still share moments of lightness, of comfort, of warmth.
For a few moments, the world outside felt far away, and all that mattered was the sound of their laughter and the quiet connection they shared.
They entered Kokoro's room, the soft click of the door behind them marking the end of the momentary tension. The room felt cozy, filled with the quiet comfort of familiarity. Kokoro motioned toward the bed, a warm smile on her face.
"Nezumi, you can sit on the bed if you want."
Nezumi hesitated for only a second before grinning, her tone light.
"Why not? Sure."
She walked over to the bed, settling down with a relaxed sigh, letting herself fall back slightly onto the soft comforter. Kokoro followed, sitting down on the chair nearby. The space between them felt easy, natural, as if they'd always shared these quiet moments of conversation. The weight of everything that had happened earlier seemed to fade just a little, replaced by the simple comfort of being in each other's presence.
Nezumi noticed the subtle shift in Kokoro's mood—the way her eyes seemed distant, lost in thoughts that weighed heavy. The lightness that had filled the room earlier had vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable quiet. Nezumi hated seeing her like this. Kokoro wasn't one to wear sadness so openly, and it made Nezumi's heart tighten in response.
Wanting to break the heavy silence and make Kokoro feel better, Nezumi decided to lighten the mood with one of her usual jokes. She flopped dramatically onto the bed, letting out a theatrical sigh. Her voice shifted to a playful, exaggerated tone, one that always made things feel a little less serious.
"Come here, *baby*, let's forget about everything else for a minute~."
The words hung in the air, a cheeky attempt to make Kokoro smile. But as soon as they left her lips, she could sense the sudden shift in the room. The smile she expected from Kokoro didn't come. Instead, Kokoro stood frozen, her eyes wide, her face instantly hardening.
Nezumi sat up slightly, feeling the tension creeping in. The silence that followed her joke was thick, uncomfortable. Kokoro didn't laugh. Instead, she turned her gaze away, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Nezumi..." Kokoro's voice was soft, almost hesitant, but there was a coldness to it that Nezumi hadn't anticipated. The playful energy that had fueled Nezumi's words drained away, replaced by a knot of unease in her stomach.
Kokoro slowly took a deep breath, her voice tinged with something Nezumi couldn't quite place—disappointment? Hurt?
"You know I don't like jokes like that..."
The words hung heavily between them, a reminder that what Nezumi thought was playful had crossed a line for Kokoro. Nezumi's chest tightened, her playful demeanor faltering as she looked at her friend, seeing the discomfort written all over her face.
Nezumi sat up completely now, her usual boldness replaced with a quiet sense of regret. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."
Kokoro's expression softened, but the sadness in her eyes lingered. She shook her head slightly. "It's not that you made me uncomfortable… it's just… I don't find those kinds of jokes funny. Not really."
The admission hit Nezumi harder than she expected. She had always made those kinds of jokes to keep the atmosphere light, to pull her friends out of their funks, but now, for the first time, she realized it wasn't always the right approach.
Kokoro lowered her gaze, clearly trying to gather her thoughts, the weight of the moment pressing on her. Nezumi opened her mouth to say something else, but words felt useless. The playful energy was gone now, leaving behind an unfamiliar, uneasy quiet.
Nezumi's fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, the guilt weighing heavier with every passing second. She had been trying to help, to lighten the mood, but in the process, she'd only made things more complicated.
"I get it. I'll… I'll be more careful next time," Nezumi finally said, her voice sincere, trying to make up for her thoughtless attempt at humor.
Kokoro nodded, though her eyes were still a little clouded. She wasn't angry, but there was a distance between them now, a space Nezumi couldn't quite bridge with a joke. She felt that loss deeply, like something had slipped out of reach.
---
*****
A/N: I guess she doesn't like dirty jokes, do you like them.
Save this to library.
Vote me gems.