Chapter 21 Hope That Will Never Come

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze warm and understanding. 

“Life can be heavy sometimes, even when it doesn’t seem like it should be. If something’s on your mind, you don’t have to carry it alone. Sometimes, just talking about it can help.”

He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the cup. How could he explain what was troubling him without revealing too much? How could he tell her that she was the reason for his restlessness, his sleepless nights, his inability to focus? He couldn’t. Not directly. But maybe… he could hint at it.

“It’s… hard to put into words,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully.

  “There’s something—or someone—I care about deeply. But I… I don’t know how to express it. I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing, or worse, ruining what we already have. It’s like… I’m stuck in this loop, wanting to move forward but too scared to take the first step.”

Ichiban listened quietly, her expression gentle and patient. When he finished, she smiled softly, her eyes filled with kindness.

  “That sounds like a very difficult place to be in. But you know, Kataomoi-kun, sometimes the things we’re most afraid of are the things worth facing. If this person means as much to you as it sounds like they do, I’m sure they’d appreciate hearing how you feel, even if it’s not perfect.”

Kataomoi’s heart ached at her words. 

“I wish it were that easy. But what if… what if they don’t feel the same way? What if I’m just… not enough?”

Ichiban’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, as if she could sense the depth of his struggle. 

“You’re more than enough, Kataomoi-kun. Anyone who truly knows you would see that. You’re kind, dependable, and you have a good heart. Those are things that matter far more than any words you could say.”

He looked down, his cheeks flushing. Her words were comforting, but they also made his feelings for her even harder to bear.

  “Thank you, Professor. That… means a lot coming from you.”

She reached across the table, placing a gentle hand on his. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to know that you’re not alone, no matter what you’re going through. And if you ever need someone to talk to, a friend, I’m here.”

Kataomoi’s breath caught in his throat. Her touch was warm, her presence calming, and for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to tell her the truth. But the fear of rejection, of losing what they already had, was too great. Instead, he simply nodded, his voice soft.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Professor.”

She withdrew her hand, her smile as gentle as ever.

  “Anytime, Kataomoi-kun. And remember, it’s okay to be unsure. Life is full of unknown, but that’s what makes it beautiful. Take your time, and when you’re ready, I’m sure everything will work out the way it’s meant to.”

He nodded again, though his heart felt heavy. As he stood to leave, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of gratitude and longing. Gratitude for her kindness, and longing for something he couldn’t quite bring himself to reach for.

“Have a good day, Professor,” he said, bowing slightly before stepping out of her office.

Kataomoi stood in the hallway, his back pressed against the cool wall as he watched Professor Ichiban walk away. Her figure grew smaller with each step, her lab coat swaying gently as she disappeared around the corner, heading to her next class. The moment she was out of sight, the weight of their conversation crashed down on him.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his emotions in check. The pain in his chest was unbearable, a sharp, aching reminder of everything he couldn’t say, everything he couldn’t have. For so long, he had kept his distance, limiting their interactions to brief exchanges and polite nods. It was safer that way. Easier. He didn’t want to hope—hope that she might feel the same way, hope that she might see him as more than just a security guard. Hope that would only lead to pain.

But now, after their talk, after seeing her gentle, warm side up close, he couldn’t pretend anymore. He couldn’t bury his feelings deep enough to ignore them. She had been so kind, so understanding, and it only made his heart ache more. He hated himself for it. Hated himself for being so weak, so cowardly.

"Why can’t I just tell her?" he thought, his mind spiraling. 

"Why can’t I just say the words?"

He imagined running after her, grabbing her hand, and pouring out his heart. He imagined telling her how much she meant to him, how her smile lit up his darkest days, how her kindness made him feel like he mattered. But the thought alone was enough to make his stomach churn. What if she laughed? What if she looked at him with pity? What if she walked away and never spoke to him again? He knew these were only excuses he fools himself.

But the fear was paralyzing. And so, he stood there, frozen, his face twisted in sorrow as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. He loathed himself for it. He loathed himself for being too afraid to take the first step, for being too weak to fight for what he wanted.

"I’m just a coward. A coward who can’t even say how he feels. What kind of man am I?"

He leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answers he so desperately sought. But there were no answers, only the hollow ache of regret and the crushing weight of his own insecurities.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away, refusing to let them fall. He couldn’t break down here, not in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see. With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself off the wall and began walking in the opposite direction. He was going back to his post, he needed to get away—away from her, away from the pain, away from the part of himself that he hated so much.

He slumped against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground, his knees pulled tightly to his chest. His breath came in gasps, his chest heaving as the weight of his feelings crushed him.

"Why? Why am I like this? Why can’t I just say it? Why can’t I just tell her how I feel?"

He hated himself. Hated how weak he was, how pathetic, how useless.

"I’m a coward. A worthless, spineless coward. I can’t even look her in the eye without feeling like I’m going to fall apart. What kind of man am I? What kind of man loves someone so much but can’t even say it?"

He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as tears streamed down his face. He didn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point? He didn’t deserve to hide his shame. He deserved to feel every ounce of this pain, every crushing moment of his own inadequacy.

"She’s so kind. So perfect. And what am I? Nothing. I’m nothing. Just a security guard who stands at a gate all day, watching her walk by like some pathetic loser. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve to even dream about her. But I can’t stop. I can’t stop thinking about her, wanting her, loving her. And it’s killing me."

He let out a choked sob, his voice breaking as he whispered to himself, “Why… why can’t I just be enough? Why can’t I be someone she could love? Someone who deserves her?”

The words echoed in the empty space around him, unanswered and hollow. He hated how weak he sounded, how pitiful. But he couldn’t stop. The floodgates were open, and all the self-loathing he had bottled up for so long came pouring out.

"I’m a joke. A walking, talking joke. I spend every day pretending to be strong, pretending to have my life together, but the truth is, I’m nothing. I’m a failure. A guard? What a joke! I couldn’t even protect the people I care about. I can’t even protect myself from my own stupid feelings."