Too Close for Comfort Pt. 4

I wanted to say no.

I wanted to tell them it didn't matter, that it was just a sad little backstory not worth digging up. I even opened my mouth, ready to wave it all off with a lazy joke. But when I looked at them again—Chloe's hand still gently wrapped around my wrist, Lana biting her lip in quiet restraint, and Alice's eyes narrowed in silent concern—I knew brushing it off wasn't an option anymore.

I let out a long, defeated breath and pulled my hand free, rubbing the back of my neck.

"There's no reason for you to know. It's just a sappy little mishap with no real meaning behind it. Hah... obviously."

Lana retorted. "We'll be the judge of that. Come on, spill it."

"Do I really have to...?"

"Yes, Aikami." Alice crossed her arms, glaring at me. "Consider this a part of our research. In order to get to the bottom of your fateless dilemma, we need to know everything about you—including this."

Chloe, who was still holding onto my hand, squeezed it tighter. Her shaking eyes and trembling lips told me everything that I needed to know.

I sighed. "Guys... Just drop it."

"Why should we?" Alice muttered. "What is it you're hiding from us that you're trying so hard to dismiss this?"

For some reason, that struck a nerve. "What? I'm not trying to hide anything."

"It definitely seems like it," Lana scoffed. "I mean, you never had an issue telling us about anything else. Why now?"

"That's because—" I paused, giving myself a moment to breathe. Then with a softer voice, I said my peace. "Because I know exactly how this is gonna end. You're gonna hear what I say, then look at me like it's your fault. Something like... if I had a thread, things would've turned out better. Or maybe you should've found me sooner. And I get it. That's just the kind of people you are. You care about me. I know that, and I'm grateful... but I don't want you to feel bad for me when it was completely out of your reach."

At first, there was silence. Chloe's grip slowly loosened, but she suddenly tugged on my hand a bit stronger than before.

She slipped on a confident look. "Then we won't, but that doesn't mean we'll be indifferent. Like you said, we do care about you... so we owe it to you to listen to your story. This isn't about the research or whatever. This is about you, Aikami Enzou."

They weren't looking at me with pity. Not with expectation, either. Just… patience. Like they were waiting—not for a confession, but for me. The real me. Not because they had to. They just wanted to.

It was strange. I'm used to that kind of gaze. Most people either look through me or stop looking altogether. Yet, their eyes held steady like they were trying to pull me out of a place I didn't even realize I'd gotten stuck in.

I don't know what to do with that. Part of me wants to curl up and laugh it off, make a stupid joke to brush past it. Another part… the quieter one I usually keep locked away… kind of wants to believe them.

"It's... not something I like to remember."

"Take it slow, Aikami," Alice said. "We're not going anywhere."

I nodded, then took a deep breath. "The earliest memories I have are from the orphanage. It was loud, always. Kids running up and down the halls, screaming, laughing, and fighting over toys. The kind of noise that made everything feel alive. You'd think, in that kind of place, loneliness could never exist. But somehow, it clung to me. Every single day.”

I paused, fingers tightening slightly over my knees.

"I remember trying to join in. I'd stand at the edge of the group during games, waiting for someone to pass me the ball or tag me into the circle. And for a moment, they'd look at me. But then... it was gone. Like I'd blinked out of existence. They'd keep playing. Laughing... like I was never there to begin with."

The memory burned a little more than I expected.

"Dinnertime was the same. They'd call out names, line up in pairs, and chatter away. Whereas I... I'd wait, thinking maybe someone would notice—just once—but no one ever did. I had to make my own plate. Ate in the corner. Some days, I wondered if I was doing it all wrong, like there was some kind of secret rulebook I missed."

A bitter laugh slipped out.

"I even tried acting out. Broke stuff. Yelled. Drew on walls with markers. Once, I even flipped a tray of food over. The caretakers scolded me, sure—but the next day? Nothing. Not a sideways glance. Not a word. It was like the trouble I caused had never happened. Like I had never happened."

I drew in a breath, shaky now.

"Eventually, I stopped trying. Hah... I guess I got used to it or something. I got used to being the ghost in the room. I stopped trying to be seen. I stopped wondering why no one ever looked my way. It was easier to believe I didn't belong there than to accept that this was meant to be. Maybe I was born on the wrong side of the thread... and everyone else was tied to something real. Somewhere I could never reach."

I chuckled again, though there was no warmth in it.

"Even now... a part of me still believes that."

Silence filled the room. The kind that said everything without needing a single word. I didn’t dare look up. I just... didn't wanna see their expressions. I'd already said too much. Already given them too many reasons to feel bad. This was exactly what I didn't want.

And it's definitely not helping that right now... I just feel like locking myself in my room and crying.

"I... I'm fine, guys. Really. I mean, it's all in the past, right? Not like it matters anymore. You don't have to—"

A sudden weight slammed into my left side.

"Wha—!?"

It was Chloe. She clung to me without a word, arms wrapped around mine as her cheek pressed gently into my shoulder. Her warmth soaked into me immediately. Her hold was soft… but firm enough that it said she wasn't letting go.

"C-Chloe... It's okay. Really. You don’t need to—"

"Incoming!"

Another yelp escaped me as Lana tackled my right side, nearly knocking us over. She locked her arms around my torso and buried her face against me.

"Lana?!"

"Too late," she mumbled. "You made us cry on the inside. Now you get the cuddle punishment."

"I don't think that's even a real thing—"

And then, without warning, a final weight settled against my back. Arms draped lightly over my shoulders as something soft touched the top of my head.

"Aikami," Alice sighed, her head resting against mine. "We’re not going anywhere... and neither are you."

My face was practically on fire. Trapped between three immortals who could probably crush me like a grape if they felt like it—yet here they were, clinging to me like I was some lost treasure.

"I... I really am fine, you know. It’s not like it still bothers me or anything, and besides—"

"Aikami," Chloe whispered, squeezing my arm just a little tighter. "You're not just some invisible soul floating between threads."

"You're our Aikami Enzou."," Lana added, her voice unusually calm. "And we're not letting go until you get this through your thick skull."

"Even if the world forgets you..." Alice said softly. "We won't. We see you, and we'll always remember you."

I went still. A breath caught in my throat. I didn't know what to say. I was never good at dealing with people who got too close. Let alone... this close.

"So tell us, Aikami..." Chloe murmured. "If no one else ever sees you... is it enough that we do?"

The room was quiet again. But this time, it didn't feel lonely. It felt full.

Heavy.

Warm.

And for once... I didn't want to run from it.

"You're... more than enough..." I whispered, quivering like a dandelion in the wind.

"Then let's keep it like that." Alice let go of my shoulder, her voice firm yet soft. "Thread or not, you're one of us. And we're not letting you slip through the cracks again. Not when we can help it."

Just like that, the weight on my chest lightened. It's liberating, in a way... to know there are people out there—here—who finally understand me.

Seriously... How do I expect myself to not fall for them?