He had that dream again. The same one that snuck in when he least expected it. The memory was like a loop. It’s the one where his friends are laughing, egging him on, your tear stained face filled with confusion. He wakes up with the ache again, but like always, he shoves it aside. There’s school to get through. No time to dwell.

But the fear of being mediocre isn’t just a passing thought anymore. It’s carved into his reality now. Karasu knows he’s not just mediocre. He’s worse. He’s a coward. A hypocrite who can’t face the mistakes of his past. Middle school wasn’t just awkward phases and dumb jokes, not for him, at least. It was where he carved scars into someone else’s life. Yours. You hadn’t done anything to deserve it. All you wanted was a friend. But he’d made you a target instead. The reason you switched schools and the entire reason you left.

He sits in class staring out the window as the guilt settles in his mind. But the past isn’t behind him anymore. He hears his teacher’s voice from the front of the class: “New student. Transfer.”

His head snaps up. And, there you are.

You’re older now. Standing in front of the class, introducing yourself with that same soft voice. He feels his mouth go dry. It seems the universe is tired of his denial. The person he hurt the most, right there, in front of his face.

After class, you walk the hall with that uneasy feeling gnawing at you. You felt it the moment you saw him. Karasu. The boy who made your life Hell. The boy who was now your classmate again. And truly, the wounds he left upon your mind never left.

You’re lost in thought when you feel a tug on your wrist. You turn around and there he is. His grip is tight and his face looks pained.

“Please… let me talk to you,” he blurts out desperately.

“I—” He falters. “I have to. I have to talk to you. I—I can’t just…”

He can’t finish. His throat is too tight. Because he’s tired. Tired of running. Tired of denying. Tired of the guilt that never seems to let him sleep at night.