The sky was grey that afternoon, the kind of dull, heavy grey that pressed down on everything.
The wind carried the faint smell of rain and exhaust, and students were spilling out of Rikako Middle in clusters, laughing, shoving, calling goodbyes.
Paulo did not walk with anyone.
He rarely did.
His headphones hung around his neck, silent.
He just wanted to get home, maybe message Kazumi later.
Maybe try and tell her something light, something normal.
He turned down the narrow street that led toward the back gate, the shortcut he always took.
It passed behind a row of old buildings, quiet, shadowed, lined with cracked pavement and a single flickering streetlight.
That is when he heard it.
A soft laugh.
Her laugh.
Kazumi's.
Paulo slowed, heart beating faster. He rounded the corner and froze.
There they were. Kazumi and Takeo.
In the narrow space between the buildings, half-hidden from the street.
Her back against the wall, his hands on her waist, their faces close. too close, until they were not two people anymore, but one blurred shape.
A kiss.
It hit him like a hammer to the chest. His breath vanished. His hands shook. The world tilted.
Paulo thinking, "No… no, that can't—"
He stumbled back a step.
His shoulder hitting the wall.
The sound of their laughter echoed like shards of glass.
The edges of his vision darkened, his breathing turned ragged.
Somewhere deep in his mind, a door slammed open.
Keiko Middle School.
The locker doors slamming.
The boys' laughter.
The whispers, "You really thought she liked you?" The hands shoving him to the floor.
The feeling of being laughed at, broken open in front of everyone.
The world around him twisted, the alley stretching, the sound of Takeo's voice bleeding into the jeers of ghosts.
a Voice echoing in his head, "Pathetic."
another Voice echoing in his head, "You actually thought someone cared."
He pressed his palms to his ears, trying to make it stop, but it did not.
His heart was racing so hard it hurt.
Kazumi's voice broke through the noise, soft, real.
Kazumi from the alley, "Takeo, stop, someone might see us."
Paulo flinched as if struck.
He turned and ran, and he did not look back.
Did not hear if they saw him. Didn't care.
The streets blurred around him, grey, wet, and endless.
His lungs burned, his legs numb, his mind spinning. He did not even know which turns he took; all he knew was away.
By the time he reached home, his vision was trembling.
He fumbled with the keys, slammed the door shut behind him, and collapsed to his knees.
He could not breathe.
Paulo thinking, "It's happening again. I trusted someone again. And it's happening all over again."
He clawed at his chest as if he could tear out the ache inside.
His room swam, his heartbeat deafening.
Images flickered behind his eyes, Kazumi's smile, Takeo's sneer, the laughter in that old hallway.
He pressed his forehead to the floor and whispered hoarsely,
Paulo whispered, "Make it stop… please… make it stop…"
No one heard him.
The house was silent except for the sound of his shallow breaths.
Outside, rain began to fall again, light, steady, merciless.
And somewhere in the back of Paulo's mind, something broke quietly, like a wire snapping under too much strain.
***
The morning light was pale and brittle when Paulo stepped through the school gates again.
His uniform was neat, too neat, his hair combed back, his bag carried properly on both shoulders.
To anyone watching, he looked like a version of himself finally "getting better."
But his cold eyes told a different story.
They were empty.
So empty that they look flat.
Still, like the surface of a frozen lake. Students passed by him, calling greetings, laughing about last night's group chat.
He did not respond. He did not even look at them.
Something about him felt off, like the warmth that used to flicker behind his quiet voice had been switched off entirely.
When he entered the classroom, the chatter died a little.
He walked straight to his seat in the back corner and sat down without a word. No tired sigh, no distracted slouch, just stillness.
Kazumi looked up from her desk, her heart skipping. She had not seen him since that day, the day in the alley.
She had not told anyone, not even Takeo, but guilt had been gnawing at her ever since.
He looked different now.
Sharper.
Colder.
Not broken but rebuilt with ice.
Kazumi said, "Hey… Paulo."
He looked at her, expression unreadable, "Morning."
His tone was polite, flat, distant, like he was speaking to a stranger.
Kazumi hesitated, "You okay? You did not answer my messages last night."
Paulo nodded, "I was busy."
Kazumi question him saying "Oh. With what?"
Paulo replied with, "Forgetting things."
She froze.
He said it calmly, like it was just another mundane activity.
But the words stung more than she expected.
Takeo, sitting a few desks away, snorted, "Looks like someone's finally growing a backbone."
Paulo's eyes slid to him, cold, sharp, cutting, "You talk too much."
The entire row went quiet.
Takeo blinked, caught off guard, Paulo had never talked back before, "What did you say?"
Paulo leaned back in his chair, gaze steady, "I said you talk too much. You should save your breath; you will need it when someone finally gets tired of your mouth." The class went still.
Takeo's grin then faltered, a little bit of confusion flickering behind his anger. For once, he did not have a comeback.
Paulo turned back toward the window as if nothing had happened.
The sunlight hit his face, and Kazumi saw something that made her stomach twist, not pain, not sadness, but nothing.
Later, during lunch, she tried again.
They sat across from each other at the back of the courtyard.
The silence was thick, "Paulo… did I do something?"
He looked up from his lunch, eyes tired but calm, "No. You just showed me something I needed to see."
Kazumi replied asking, "What do you mean?"
He smiled, a small, bitter thing that did not reach his eyes, "That I shouldn't expect people to stay the same once you tell them the truth."
Kazumi's throat tightened, "Paulo, I—"
"It is fine, Kazumi. You do not owe me anything," He said standing up, brushing crumbs off his hands, "You were right before, you know. I will fit in here eventually."
Then he walked away, slow, composed, untouchable.
Kazumi sat there for a long time, staring at the empty space he had left behind.
In the distance, Paulo's figure grew smaller, but something about him seemed heavier, like he was carrying everything he had ever felt, and finally decided to stop letting anyone else see it.