The beginning of the end...

This story is a slow-burn, hatred-to-soulmates romance. Every word is pulled straight from the fragments of my real life — from the feelings I buried too deep, and the moments I never got to relive.
This is the story of my first, and only, crush.

Back in 4th or 5th grade, there was this girl — Shiori. She wasn’t loud, nor did she ever try to flex anything. She was just… content. Peaceful. The kind of girl who made simplicity look beautiful.
She was the topper, and so was I. The competition between us kept pushing forward — unspoken but alive.
Our roll numbers sat side by side: mine was 19, hers 20.

We didn’t talk much, but every small interaction felt louder than the entire classroom. My feelings were one-sided, silent, and real. I never confessed. Never even hinted at it. Our words were limited to exam days, sitting beside each other, whispering answers when the invigilator wasn’t looking. Yeah, we cheated together sometimes — tiny rebellions that felt like secrets only we shared.

Those golden afternoons — sunlight brushing the classroom walls — were some of the most beautiful moments of my life.
We laughed. We teased. She’d gaslight me for fun. But one day, everything just… stopped.

Lockdown hit.
No more school. No more glances. Just screens, grades, and distance.
While she kept rising higher, I started drowning — YouTube, games, distractions. My focus shattered.

Two years later, when offline classes finally returned, I saw her again. Same smile, same warmth — but something had changed. We sat together again in 6th final term, still whispering answers, still cheating, but the laughs had faded. I was quieter. Sadder.

Then came 7th.
That’s when Shotaro entered. Roll number 21 — right after Shiori.
He was smart, funny, the kind of guy everyone liked without effort. And just like that, my insecurity started to grow. I could feel her attention shifting toward him — even if he didn’t like her back. Jealousy hit me harder than I’d admit.

I tried to fight it the only way I knew — through grades. I studied obsessively, scored 98% in half-term, even topped the finals. But success didn’t heal the hollow inside me.

I was breaking quietly. Sensitive. Vulnerable. I let the sadness consume me.

Then came that one stupid day — I threw an eraser at my friend, but it accidentally hit Shiori instead. That was it. She started avoiding me completely. The air between us turned cold.
And I fell deeper.
Games like Valorant and Minecraft became my escape — the only places I felt seen. I didn’t care about marks anymore. I just wanted to feel something.

8th grade went by in a blur. My results were average. My parents were disappointed. I realized how short-lived happiness really is — how fast praise fades, but how long hate lingers.

By then, the story between me and Shiori had withered. She already knew I had a crush on her — my friends made sure of that. They teased her by my name, turning my feelings into a joke. She tried to act dumb and ignore it, but I could tell she was uncomfortable.
So I started avoiding her too. Talking less. Being colder.

And just like that… she began to hate me.

Now it’s 10th grade. Half-yearly exams. One night, I found myself lying on my bed, thinking about her — about every laugh, every awkward glance, every silent memory.
My friend teased me again using her name. I laughed it off. But as I closed my eyes, the past rewound itself… I fell into a deep sleep...

That’s when the dream began.

Copyright © Mizu