By the way, who is this guy?

I heard footsteps. Running. I made myself slightly smaller, hidden by the long shadows of the trees around me. I didn’t want to get caught. Not now, not like this. Although it was dark enough for me to remain invisible, it still might not be enough. What if they could see through the darkness? What if a sudden gust of wind blew the shadows away, exposing me?

The cracks of small stones grew louder and louder under the pressure of their feet. They were close now, very close. My fate was going to be decided any minute. I would either buy myself some time to finish what I’d started before they caught me, or be caught too soon, unfinished. One way or another, I was going to get caught — that much was certain.

Please, please, please.

Give me just a bit more time! Give us a bit more time!

-----

BRRRRRrrrrrrRrRRrrRrr!

It was my alarm. Another day, another chance. I needed to see him. He’d know what to do.

I jumped out of bed, didn’t even bother to make it, and rushed to the bathroom. I hurriedly brushed my short black hair and put on my earrings—the ones everyone was so obsessed with, the ones I couldn’t step outside without. They were ridiculously big, impossible to miss, but I didn’t wear them for their looks. I had a more secret reason. With their turquoise color, they weren’t just the perfect complement to my hair and my equally black eyes—they also carried a hidden power. Something I had managed to steal from the world of my dreams. Something that could hold precious information and knowledge, ready for me to access at any moment. They could store unthinkable amounts of data: voice memos, documents, photos—anything. Of all my belongings, they were the most precious—my reliable companion, always aiding me in my mission. People gave me compliments for them, sure, but beyond that, they meant everything to me. I stroked them gently as I clipped them into place on my tiny earlobes, then went back to my room to gather clothes to wear.

The first things my eyes landed on were good enough, so I ended up in a black cropped T-shirt with a black maxi skirt and my—guess what—black platform boots. I liked wearing all black. It made my skin look whiter, and I liked to think of myself as a vampire in secret. That was my childhood fantasy, one I couldn’t quite grow out of. Anyway. I headed for the door, quickly grabbing my bag and throwing in my wallet, sunglasses, and keys. Then I was good to go.

The sun immediately blinded my eyes and made me sweat at the first step. I’d be drained by the time I reached his shed. Well, it’s not like he wanted anything to do with me after all that happened…

It took me around thirty minutes to get to his place. A small storage room near the river, not surrounded by homes—just garages and other storage sheds. It wasn’t meant to be lived in, but he lived there anyway—half in secret and half with the support of the guy who managed the storage units, luckily a childhood friend of his. The rent was cheap and it was perfect for a teenager to hide from reality.

I guess it’s time I told you who this guy is.

Well… his name is Yukito. He was a boy my age—sixteen—without parents or relatives. Basically, he was on his own, with no clue about what he was supposed to do in this world, forced to leave the life he had grown up in. What made him stand out in the first place was that I’d never seen him at school, only caught glimpses of him on the streets when I went for walks or ran errands—something casual like that. Our town was small, and I couldn’t stop wondering. He seemed about my age, so why didn’t I see him at school? Either he didn’t go to school at all, or he commuted to the city every day. But that would take two hours each way—four hours total every day. That didn’t make any sense.

I never actually planned to talk to him, but I liked the idea of a mysterious boy in our peaceful little town where nothing extraordinary ever happened. But when I started having those dreams, and he started showing up in them, I couldn’t help myself. I had to approach him.

I caught him as I was walking past the candy store. He looked like a ghost, with his unsaturated blond hair and pale skin. Even the way he moved—weightless, smooth—was ghostlike. He was coming out of the grocery store, heading who knows where. That’s when I followed him. That’s when I found his storage-room “house”. And that’s when I asked him:

“Why are you in my dreams?”

My voice was firm and desperate, and I definitely made him freeze for a second.

“And why aren’t you going to school?” I added, making myself sound a bit foolish.

He stood slightly above me on the stairs leading up to the heavy door of the storage room. His colorless eyes were unsettling when I really looked at them and he sure took his time answering.

“What dreams do you have, Ayu?” he asked instead. He knew my name. HE KNEW MY NAME!!!!

“How do you know my name? Answer my questions, hey!!” I snapped, more annoyed than scared.

“I know it because I know you. But guessing from your questions, you don’t yet know me.”

He spoke casually, like that should satisfy me. I laughed. 

“Leave the riddles and give me a straightforward answer. How do you know my name?” I demanded, firmer than before, trying to show only bravery and not the fear already choking my throat. 

"It wasn’t meant to be a riddle. That’s all I can tell you. You’ll know things when you’re supposed to—no sooner, no later. So, do you have anything else to ask me, or can I go inside and eat my lunch in peace?” He turned away from me, one hand already on the door handle.

“WAIT!” I shouted, tugging at his sweater. “Please, help me. I’m getting so confused lately about… everything. Don’t leave me here, because then I’ll just sit outside your door until you come out again. I’m not leaving without answers, you can bet on that!”

He sighed and stepped back down, standing eye to eye with me now—well, almost. He was taller than me even on level ground.

“I go by Yukito. I live here, and I don’t go to school. I’m not supposed to be here, but I ended up here, and I can’t get back to where I belong. I think I can help you, but everything depends on you and what you choose to do. I’m not sure why it’s important for us to meet, but since you’ve been to that place and since you’ve found me here too, maybe it’s been the plan all along. Any other questions?”

I stared at the ground, mind racing, dizzy with what he had told me. I tried to look up at him, tried to speak, but I couldn’t move. I wanted to take another look at his face, but everything went black.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

I can’t move.

The next thing I knew, I was inside his home, lying on his bed, a glass of water on a stack of books beside me—probably his version of a nightstand—and a patchwork sheet covering me.

-----

But let’s get back to where I was, before I started telling you how I met Yukito.

I knocked on the familiar storage-room door and waited. It was freezing outside, and my patience was near its limit after the third round of banging. Where the hell was this guy?

I paced up and down, up and down, until snowflakes started falling. Of course. You had to start falling too.

“YUKITO, where are you?” I screamed into the foggy nothingness where the river should have been on a sunny, clear day.

And then he appeared, coming from the direction of the forest. As he got closer, I saw blood dripping from him. I couldn’t even tell where it came from—it seemed to seep out everywhere.

“YUKITO!” I screamed again, quieter this time, and ran to him. I pulled his arm over my shoulder and helped him walk. His body was heavy, yet fragile. It took everything out of me to drag him to the shed, but in my shock and fear, I didn’t feel it.

Inside, I stripped off his clothes and began tending his wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Yukito, Yukito, do you hear me?” I asked, pulling his face close, gripping his jaw. “I’ll help you, no matter what. I’ll help you, I promise. I’m so close to finding the solution, so close. Please, just hold on a little longer.”

He looked into my eyes, fear flickering in his. Then I saw it—a tiny spark in the corner of his left eye. A tear. Small as a snowflake, carrying so much suffering. I gently wiped it away with my fingers and kissed his forehead.

And then I went back to tending his wounds.