Chapter 10: The Noise That Isn’t There

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

But he woke up with dried blood on his knuckles. From when he scraped the pavement at the station. He stared at it, not with fear or confusion — but with a kind of gratitude.

It hurt.

And that meant he was still here.

He dragged himself to school that day. Not because he cared, but because his body moved on its own. Like an old machine running on leftover momentum.

His desk was the same.

The window beside him, the same.

The seat where Aki used to be?

Still gone.

Not empty — gone.

The desks were rearranged. No one sat beside him now. The space was filled with nothing, and no one spoke about it.

But he stared at it anyway.

Trying to carve her back into it with his eyes.

At lunch, he stood in the hallway. Watching. Listening.

People laughed.

Talked.

Ate.

Lived.

He moved past them like smoke. No one looked at him anymore. Not even the bullies. He had become invisible. Something not worth touching.

He passed by a group of girls giggling near the shoe lockers.

And for a second—

He heard it again.

His name.

Soft.

Broken.

“…_.”

He turned fast.

But again — nothing.

Only flickering fluorescent lights. Only laughter that didn’t include him.

He clenched his fists. Walked faster. The hallway seemed longer today, warped at the edges. His vision dimmed at the sides. Like the world was closing in.

He made it to the rooftop.

Locked.

He stared at the door.

Felt the heaviness in his chest again.

So he sat there. In front of the locked door.

And just… breathed.

The wind felt colder than usual.

He whispered to no one.

“You’re not real, are you?”

The wind answered with silence.

“But even if you weren’t, you were the only thing that made this bearable.”

No reply.

He sat there until the bell rang.

Then until it rang again.

Until the sun set.

He didn’t go home.

No one noticed.

Not the teachers.

Not his parents.

He walked until the sky turned black. Until the city blurred around him.

He found himself outside an old convenience store. The lights buzzed. The glass reflected him faintly.

He looked into his own eyes.

And didn’t recognize them.

For a moment, the reflection blinked slower than he did.

He stepped back.

Inside the store, he bought a drink — something sweet. He didn’t taste it. Just held it in his hand. The cold can anchoring him to this reality.

Barely.

Outside, sitting on a bench, he opened his phone.

No messages.

He opened the camera.

Pointed it at the empty space beside him.

And took a photo.

Then another.

And another.

Each one, he studied.

Zoomed in.

Stared into the pixels.

Looking for a hint of her.

A shadow.

A reflection.

A mistake in the world.

But every photo was the same.

Just a boy sitting alone.

Holding a drink.

Next to nothing.

He deleted them all.

And then — one more thing.

Her contact.

His finger hovered over the screen.

Delete contact?

He hesitated.

But then he pressed “Yes.”

And the name disappeared.

As if it had never been typed.

The silence inside him deepened.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just… endless.

He walked again.

Not to anywhere.

Just away.