The day before Christmas, Jerelr invited Egemed to go shopping with him in the city. Egemed had no desire to leave home, yet he had begun to love Jerelr deeply—the kind of love you feel for the only friend who ever understood you. Jerelr never mocked his strange perceptions, never recoiled from the sorrows Egemed claimed to see behind people's smiles. Instead, he listened, comforted, and stayed on the call just to make Egemed laugh before sleeping. Because of that, Egemed agreed to go.
That morning, cold enough that mist curled from every breath, Egemed wrapped himself in his coat and went to the kitchen.
"Mother, I'm going to the city with my friend," he said.
His mother paused, surprised. "Why? You haven't wanted to go to the city for so long."
"Yes, but now I have a best friend who invited me. Tomorrow is Christmas—I'll buy some goods too. Tell Father I'll take care of the shopping."
Without a word, she unwound her scarf from her neck and wrapped it around Egemed's. "I'm happy you're becoming yourself again." She hugged him softly. "Go and have fun. Your father is still asleep. Do you have money?"
"I asked him yesterday. Take care, Mother. I'll look after your scarf."
——
Egemed met Jerelr on the road. They walked side by side into the waking city, snow crunching beneath their boots. But as they reached the marketplace, Egemed suddenly stopped. His face drained of color; his hands trembled.
"Egemed?" Jerelr said, worry rising in his voice. "What's wrong? Talk to me."
Egemed didn't speak. His eyes were fixed on a group of children—thin, shivering, wrapped in only scraps of cloth—sitting in the exact spot he had met them two years ago.
"Egemed… are you feeling sick?" Jerelr took a step closer. "Say something, I'm wor—"
He didn't finish. The children ran toward Egemed and wrapped their frail arms around his legs, shouting "Brother!" Jerelr stepped back, stunned. Why were these children running to Egemed?
Egemed's heart sank. This is where our friendship ends, he thought.
But Jerelr only smiled, placed a hand on one child's head, and looked at Egemed.
"Shall we buy them some clothes, Brother Ege?" he smiled
Egemed's breath caught. He didn't trust his voice, so he simply nodded.
"Then why are you standing still?" Jerelr laughed and grabbed his wrist. "Come on!" With his other hand, he held the children's hands. "Follow us, kids!"
Inside the winter shop, Egemed slowly regained his senses. He watched Jerelr kneel beside the children, holding up jackets and asking, "Which color do you like? Which one feels warm?" The sight softened something in him.
Jerelr eventually stepped close and whispered, "Are you feeling better? You scared me back there. Please tell me when we go home—I don't want you carrying this alone."
Egemed sighed. "I'll tell you everything."
"That's all I want," Jerelr said with a grin. "Now be happy. Look at them—this is fun."
Egemed didn't know whether to cry or laugh, but he found himself smiling. He helped the children try on jackets, asked about their lives, and felt warmth return to his chest.
After buying clothes, Jerelr grabbed his wrist again. "To the restaurant!" he declared. The children cheered.
The rest of the day was a blur of giving—clothes, food, warmth—to every homeless person they passed. When dusk fell, they were exhausted, but Egemed felt true peace for the first time in years. He wasn't alone; someone else saw the world the way he did.
By the time they finished buying Christmas goods, it was nearly midnight.
Together they walked through the cold night, their hands full of bags and small belongings, yet silent in their steps. Egemed couldn't help the quiet smile tugging at his lips; he hadn't felt this kind of warmth in a long time, and the simple happiness of the moment settled gently in his chest.
Jerelr quietly said, "I'm worried about you."
"Why? I'm fine now."
"Let me stay with you tonight." Jerelr added
"What do you mean?" Egemed in question
"It's almost midnight. I'll sleep at your house and go home in the morning. Or you can come to mine."
"…Alright. Come home with me. My mother wants to meet you." A quiet smile touched his lips, as if the thought alone warmed him from the inside.
Jerelr wanted to go back to his own home, yet worry held him in place. What if Egemed hurt himself again? The thought lingered like a shadow he couldn't shake. Something had shattered inside Egemed earlier. He needed to make sure Egemed didn't harm himself.
Egemed knocked. "Mother, we're back!"
She opened the door with relief. "You brought your friend?"
"Yes, he'll stay the night."
"Have you eaten?"
"We have. We just need to wash up."
She turned to Jerelr with a warm smile. "So you're Jerelr? I'm glad to finally meet you. Egemed never brings friends home."
Jerelr flushed, bowing politely.
"Go rest," she said. "We'll talk more tomorrow."
Egemed was still in the kitchen with his mother, carefully unpacking the things he had bought, his movements quiet but deliberate, each item a small reminder of the day's warmth and joy.
In Egemed's room, Jerelr was alone changed his clothes. But Jerelr froze when he noticed the walls—covered in sad quotes—and the wooden box on the table full of sharp objects: needles, blades, broken glass, razors.
Then he saw a dusty bottle near the wardrobe. Thinking it was alcohol, he opened it out of curiosity.
A wave of dizziness hit him. The stench—thick, metallic—made his stomach twist.
Blood!
Old blood. A bottle full of it!
Jerelr stumbled to the bathroom and vomited.
Egemed, startled by the sound, rushed after him. But by the time he checked his room, Jerelr had already returned, pale and trembling.
"Are you alright?" Egemed asked.
"Just… motion sickness. I'm fine."
"Do you need medicine?"
"No." Jerelr forced a smile. "Let's just rest. Is it okay if we sleep together?"
"Yes."
They lay down, but neither slept. Egemed faced the wall, suffocating with guilt—Jerelr had paid for everything today, while he had nothing, was nothing.
Suddenly he couldn't breathe.
Jerelr sat up instantly and pulled Egemed onto his back. "Breathe, Ege. Hey—look at me. Breathe."
When Egemed finally steadied, Jerelr whispered, "Talk to me. Please."
Egemed hesitated. Then, slowly, painfully, he told him everything—about the children two years ago, the broken promise, the weight of his visions, the way people called him crazy, Benson leaving him in the middle of the road, the failures, the rejection, the nights waiting for death,and the despair that hollowed him from inside.
Jerelr listened, eyes burning.
"I see sorrow everywhere," Egemed whispered. "Even in criminals. Even in people others hate. I feel their pain like it's mine. And I can't take it anymore.
Jerelr… don't you think it's better if I die than keep living like this?"
He broke down. Jerelr pulled him close and cried with him.
When the tears slowed, Jerelr asked gently, "If there was a way to chase your dreams, would you try?"
"Yes… but I have nothing."
"Then let's do it together."
"What if you hate me like the others?"
"I won't," Jerelr said firmly. "If the world turns its back on us, then we'll face the world together." He wiped Egemed's tears. "Do you wish for someone who understands you?"
"Yes… but I never found anyone."
"Then I'll be that person. Reach out to me whenever you're hurting."
Egemed's heart lightened. "I wish you were," he whispered.
Hours later, the conversation grew quiet—until Jerelr remembered the bottle.
"Egemed… may I ask something? You might hate me for it."
"Ask. I won't hate you."
"The bottle near your wardrobe… and the sharp objects. What are they for?"
Egemed stiffened. He had forgotten to hide them.
"I…" He took a breath. "I hurt myself. To stop thinking. To stop feeling. It was the only way to silence my thoughts. But ever since we met, I stopped. You were there. You distracted me."
Jerelr's eyes filled. "You went through all this alone?"
"No one would understand. Except you."
Jerelr stroked his head gently—as if comforting a younger brother. Egemed finally fell asleep.
But Jerelr didn't. He sat awake, horrified by everything Egemed endured, imagining the scars hidden beneath the gloves.
* * *
Before dawn, while everyone slept, Jerelr quietly took the bottle outside and scrubbed it clean, vomiting twice from the smell. The blood had hardened; the water nearly froze. But he cleaned until every trace disappeared.
When he returned, exhausted, Egemed was just waking.
"Good morning, Brother Ege," he greeted softly.
"Good morning… Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, and I woke early," Jerelr lied.
As Egemed combed his hair, Jerelr said, "I cleaned your bottle. And… can I throw away those sharp objects?"
Egemed froze. "Why would you do that? I can clean it myself."
"I don't mind the smell. I'm just worried your family might see."
Egemed's eyes softened. "Thank you. Truly."
Jerelr lifted the wooden box. "If you must keep these… then promise me one thing." His voice trembled. "Promise you won't use them again."
Egemed saw the pain in his friend's face and nodded. "I promise."
"Do you have a secret place to keep it?"
"Under the bed."
Jerelr hid the box there and shut the compartment. "Don't open it. Don't touch it. Alright?"
Egemed raised his pinky with a small smile. "I promise."
Jerelr finally stood. "I should go home. I'll pick you up around five or six. Finish your work before then. You need to be home by eleven so you can spend Christmas with your family. And… I want to give you something important. So you must come."
"I will," Egemed said, smiling wide. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Thank you"
Jerelr slipped out quietly before Egemed's parents woke, the weight of the night heavy on his shoulders.