Chapter 1: The Lonely Routine
The shrill buzz of the alarm clock echoed in the tiny room like a cruel reminder that the world kept moving, even if he didn't want to. Haruki Arai groaned, his slender fingers fumbling to silence the noise. The blanket slid off his bony shoulders as he sat up, his oversized glasses hanging crookedly on his nose. The mirror across the room showed a boy who looked more like a shadow than a student—thin, pale, with bags under his eyes and hair that hadn't seen a comb in days.
He rubbed his eyes, glanced at his phone—no messages, no notifications. Just another morning alone.
His small apartment was silent, save for the ticking clock and the occasional creak from the wooden floor. There was no one to greet him, no voice calling out "good morning," just the faint scent of leftover miso soup from last night and the stale air of loneliness. Haruki lived off the little money his grandmother sent him every month. She was the only person who remembered his birthday, the only one who even cared he was still breathing.
He grabbed his bag and left, his steps soft and hesitant as if the world might break if he stepped too loudly. College was no better than his apartment. It was louder, more colorful—but not for him. Students passed by in waves, laughing and chatting, groups forming their own little worlds where Haruki was never invited. His shoulders slouched under the weight of his worn-out bag, and he kept his eyes on the ground.
"Oi, look who's finally crawled out of his cave," came a sneering voice from behind.
Haruki didn't need to turn to know it was Renji—the guy who made bullying feel like a sport.
"The skeleton walks! Careful, he might collapse if the wind blows," another added, laughing.
Haruki didn't respond. He never did. Just walked faster, hoping to disappear. But their words clung to him, like smoke he couldn't shake off.
And then he saw her.
Yua Hoshizaki.
Golden hair that shimmered like sunlight. A confident stride, perfect posture, eyes that used to look at him with warmth… a long time ago. Back when they were kids, before life crushed him and before she became someone too bright for him to even glance at.
Now, she didn't even spare him a glance. She walked past, laughing with her friends, oblivious to the way his heart twisted at the sight of her.
In class, the seat next to him was always empty. He liked it that way. He didn't need anyone noticing him. But today, a soft thud snapped him out of his daze. Someone plopped down beside him.
"Morning, partner in crime!"
He blinked.
It was Rinako Fujii.
The tall, chubby girl with round cheeks and eyes that sparkled with unfiltered joy. She smiled like life had never once tried to break her.
Haruki stared. "Why are you sitting here?"
"Why not?" she replied, pulling out a box of snacks. "I figured you could use a morning buddy. You always look like someone stole your last piece of cake."
He didn't respond. He didn't want to talk. But she kept smiling, like it didn't matter.
The whispers started. Snickers. Judging eyes.
He lowered his head. She kept humming.
Later that day, Haruki walked home with slouched shoulders and heavier steps. The streets blurred into a grey mess. No messages. No calls. Just silence waiting for him.
He sat at the table with cold rice and soup, staring blankly at the wall. Then, like a habit, like a routine too shameful to say aloud, he locked the door and sat in the dark.
He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his drawer. A love letter. Addressed to Yua. Words he could never say aloud—how her hair looked like sunlight, how her smile used to heal him. Stupid things. Foolish, desperate things. But it was all he had. His secret hope. His embarrassing truth.
He laughed bitterly and shoved it back in his bag, not knowing tomorrow would change everything.
The next morning, chaos struck.
The letter slipped from his bag.
Renji saw it first.
And then the world turned cruel.
He read it aloud, mocking every word, each sentence becoming a nail in Haruki's coffin of shame. The class roared with laughter. Yua looked disgusted.
"You actually wrote this about me?" she scoffed. "Pathetic."
He couldn't breathe. His heart pounded so hard it hurt. He grabbed his bag and ran. Just ran. No one followed. No one cared.
Except Rinako.
She picked up the torn pieces of the letter, her cheerful face no longer smiling. Her eyes weren't laughing—they were heavy with something else.
Something like empathy.
Haruki didn't return to college for days. His seat remained empty.
And while most forgot about him, Rinako didn't.
One afternoon, she stood in front of the teacher's desk and said with a determined grin, "I'll go check on him. I think… he's in pain."
And just like that, a single smile was about to change two lives forever.
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