The Weight Of Silence

 The Weight of Silence

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A Quiet Start

Rika arrived at school earlier than usual. The hallways were quieter, with only a few students drifting to their classes. When she reached her classroom, she saw him—Ren Takahashi, already seated at his desk, sketching silently.

She hesitated for a moment, watching the steady movement of his pencil. His focus was intense, each line purposeful, yet his expression remained calm and detached. For a second, she wondered what it felt like to be so absorbed in something—to create like that.

Finally, she stepped inside, the sound of her chair scraping softly against the floor as she took her seat beside him. Ren didn’t look up, his pencil continuing its path over the page.

“Hey,” she began quietly, unsure if she was interrupting. “What are you drawing?”

Ren’s pencil paused, the tip hovering just above the paper. Rika caught a glimpse of what looked a classroom with 2 detailed characters sitting together, But It wasn't this classroom, Before she could get a clearer view, Ren snapped his sketchbook shut.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice even.

Rika blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Ren slipped the sketchbook into his bag and leaned back slightly. He didn’t seem irritated, just closed off—like a wall had quietly risen between them.

After a brief silence, Ren spoke. “Why do you act different around me?”

Rika’s mind stuttered. “What?”

Ren’s gaze stayed steady, calm but unreadable. “You don’t act like you do with everyone else.”

Rika opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. What was he getting at? Did he see through her more than she thought?

“I don’t know…” she began hesitantly. “I guess it’s just… different with you.”

Ren’s expression didn’t change, but there was a weight to his silence. Rika’s fingers fiddled nervously with the edge of her notebook. How could she explain it when she didn’t fully understand it herself?

“Everyone else treats me like they love me,” she finally admitted, her voice softer.

Ren’s eyes widened slightly—just a flicker of surprise before his expression evened out. “That’s a bad thing?”

Rika shook her head. “No… it’s not that. It’s just, when people look at me, it feels like they expect something. Like they admire me or want something from me. I’ve gotten used to that.” Her eyes shifted back to him, searching. “But you… you don’t look at me like that.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed slightly, the pencil in his hand still resting against his bag. “Then how do I look at you?”

Rika’s breath caught. How did she explain it? It wasn’t admiration, it wasn’t expectation—it was something heavier and yet more honest.

“Like… you don’t expect me to be anything,” she whispered. “No expectations, no assumptions. Just… me.”

Ren’s gaze finally broke away, his eyes settling on his bag strap. There was a tension in his posture, a hesitation that Rika couldn’t ignore. It was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him, and it made her wonder if there was a reason he guarded himself so closely.

“Maybe that’s all it is,” he muttered, almost too softly to hear.

The room gradually filled with more students, their chatter filling the quiet that had once hung between them. Ren adjusted his bag, his expression unreadable once again. Rika wanted to ask him more, but the moment felt fragile—like any more questions would shatter it.

Lunchtime Interruption

Lunch break came, and the classroom buzzed with noise. Most students rushed to the cafeteria, but Ren remained at his desk, sketching quietly.

Daiki approached, a half-eaten bento in his hand. He leaned on Ren’s desk, grinning. “You ever gonna eat during lunch, or is sketching your real nutrition?”

Ren didn’t look up. “Not hungry.”

Daiki smirked, taking another bite. “Yeah, yeah. One day you’ll pass out, and I’ll have to drag your half-dead body to the nurse’s office. And I will drop you.”

Ren’s voice was flat. “Noted.”

Daiki laughed, watching Ren for a moment before his eyes drifted to Rika, who was watching them curiously. He leaned back, his smirk widening.

“So, you and Fujisawa talk about anything interesting today?”

Ren’s pencil paused just slightly—a barely noticeable hesitation. “No.”

Daiki’s smirk didn’t fade. “Sure, brooding artist. Try not to wither away.”

He walked off, joining Aika, Rika, and Mayu, who had gathered near the window. Daiki stretched his arms, sighing dramatically. “Man, I’m exhausted.”

Without thinking, Aika muttered, “You still look good, though.”

A brief, stunned silence followed.

Daiki raised an eyebrow, grinning. “…What?”

Aika’s eyes widened. “…What?”

Rika’s hand shot up to cover her mouth, stifling a laugh. Mayu didn’t bother—her deadpan gaze met Aika’s mortified expression.

“You’re embarrassing,” Mayu sighed.

Aika flailed, her face bright red. “I—I meant you always look half-asleep! Not that you look good—I mean—not that you don’t—”

Daiki leaned in, amused. “So I look good?”

Aika buried her face in her hands. “I hate all of you.”

Mayu sipped her drink. “Tragic.”

An Unexpected Encounter

The school library was quieter than usual. The faint rustling of pages and the distant hum of the air conditioning filled the space, creating a stillness that felt almost heavy.

Rika hadn’t planned on staying long. She had only come to return a book—one she barely read but had borrowed to look productive at home. After placing it on the return shelf, she turned toward the exit, her mind already elsewhere.

Then, she saw him.

Ren Takahashi sat near the window, sketchbook open, pencil moving in smooth, practiced strokes. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the glass, casting a soft glow over his desk. He was completely focused, unaware of anyone around him.

Rika stopped.

She wasn’t sure why she hesitated. She saw Ren every day in class—it wasn’t like this was the first time she’d watched him draw. But something about seeing him here, alone and unguarded, felt different. In class, he was distant. In the library, he looked… almost at ease.

Curiosity got the better of her.

She walked over, stopping just beside his table. “Didn’t take you for the type to hang out here.”

Ren didn’t startle, but his pencil slowed for half a second before continuing. “You either.”

Rika pulled out the chair across from him and sat down without asking. “I study sometimes.”

Ren didn’t respond, but his lips twitched—just barely. Rika narrowed her eyes. Was that almost a smile?

She leaned forward slightly, tilting her head to peek at his sketchbook. “What are you drawing?”

Ren, without missing a beat, turned the page just enough to block her view. “Nothing.”

Rika smirked. “Must be an impressive ‘nothing’ if you don’t want me to see it.”

This time, he did pause. Just briefly. Then, without looking up, he replied, “You have a habit of being nosy.”

Rika shrugged, unbothered. “You have a habit of hiding things.”

A brief silence settled between them. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was… something.

Then, out of nowhere, Rika asked, “Why do you always act so distant?”

Ren’s pencil stilled.

He didn’t react right away. No sarcasm, no immediate deflection. He just let the silence stretch, as if debating whether or not to answer.

Finally, he said, “People aren’t what they seem.”

Rika frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ren’s fingers tightened slightly around his pencil, but his expression remained unreadable. “Sometimes, they act like they care. Like you matter to them. But in the end, they’ll always choose someone else.”

His voice was calm—too calm. As if he had already accepted it a long time ago.

Rika’s chest tightened at his words.

She wanted to ask more. Who? What happened? But something about the way he was gripping his pencil, the way he was staring at the page without seeing it, made her stop.

So instead, she simply muttered, “That’s a sad way to look at things.”

Ren exhaled quietly. “It’s just the way things are.”

The silence between them shifted—heavier now, but not uncomfortable. Just real.

Rika leaned back in her chair, watching as his hand moved across the paper again.

For the first time, she realized that Ren Takahashi wasn’t just distant.

He was protecting himself from something.

She just didn’t know what.

Yet.

The Transfer Student — A Shift

The next day, the teacher entered with a new student.

“Class, we have a transfer student joining us today.”

Rika barely registered it—until she noticed Ren. His entire body tensed, his eyes fixed forward.

The girl stepped up, her smile bright yet polite. “I’m Hana Nishimura. It’s nice to meet you.”

Ren’s expression—usually so guarded—cracked for a split second. His fingers gripped the edge of his desk, and Rika saw it.

For the first time, she saw a fracture in his mask.