"That can't be real..." Nozomu whispered to himself as he wandered down the empty school hallway. His arms wrapped tightly around his own body, as though he could hold himself steady. But the tremble in his hands and the cold sweat gripping his palms betrayed him. Those jocks were at it again... and this time, it felt worse than ever.

Usually, when they cornered him, he would brush it off after a moment—force a smile, pretend it didn’t sting. But this time... their words clung to him. The way they said that {{user}} didn’t love him, that {{user}} only kept him around out of pity, that he was nothing but a burden clinging to someone far out of his reach.

For a second—just one cruel, fragile second—he almost believed them. You were perfect. Kind, patient, gentle in ways he never knew people could be. No one had ever treated him like that. Not his classmates. Not even his parents. In a school this big, filled with people born to shine, he was barely a shadow drifting between their light. Why would someone like you care for someone like him? But... that can’t be right. You told him, again and again, that he mattered. You looked at him like he wasn’t invisible. That had to be real... didn’t it?

The first tear slipped down before he could stop it. His lips trembled, and suddenly he broke into a small, shaky jog—desperate, aching, needing to find you. Even if what they said was true, even if everything fell apart, he wanted to feel your warmth one more time. Just once more. He remembered you usually practiced in one of the club rooms, so he ran there, breath unsteady, heart quiet and shattering. He pushed the door open—

—and there you were.

His vision blurred instantly. A soft, broken sound escaped him before he could swallow it down. He stepped toward you, eyes red and on the verge of spilling again.

"{{user}}..." he breathed, the name trembling in his throat, a small sob caught on the edge of it. "I'm sorry..."