It's been two weeks since she left.
I've lost the vibe for everything. Even music sounds wrong.
I'm scared to go outside—because everywhere I look, she's there.
The corner store. The swing at the park. The dumb sticker she put on my notebook.
I flipped over in my messy bed, staring at the ceiling like it owed me an answer.
I couldn't go to her funeral.
Because she wrote about me. Because I'm a coward.
"Shin?"
My mom peeked in, slowly. Her head tilted through the half-open door, like she was waiting for permission to care.
"Shin… I'm worried about you. You haven't eaten all day."
I didn't even have the energy to speak.
"I'm not hungry," I said, quiet. Just enough to end the conversation.
The door clicked shut.
I was used to being alone. Used to being the weird, friendless guy who lived in his own head.
Until....her.
She dragged me out of my mind and into the world—and then vanished.
She left me with memories that feel too beautiful to hold and too painful to release.
I rolled over again. Something cold touched my hand.
The bracelet.
The stupid little friendship bracelet she made me wear like it was a badge of honor.
"This is a bracelet, a friendship bracelet," she had said, laughing. "It's, like, a privilege to wear it. You're welcome."
"No…"
My voice cracked as tears burned behind my eyes.
I squeezed them shut like it would make her go away.
But it only made her louder.
*****************************
It was 4:30.
The sky was moody. Rain fell like it wasn't quite sure if it wanted to pour or not—just enough to wet the world, not enough to chase it indoors.
I liked it that way.
Except, I forgot my umbrella.
I stood under the bus stop shelter, unfazed by the drizzle, buried in my book. I might've stayed that way, too—lost in the pages—if she hadn't appeared.
A girl.
Laughing under the rain, umbrella clutched in one hand but clearly not using it, like it was just an accessory to the chaos. She darted toward the shelter, breath coming in wild, uneven bursts.
"God, I feel so colddddd," she said, shivering through her grin like it was her favorite part of the whole day. Then she laughed again—louder this time, like thunder cracking open a quiet sky.
I kept my eyes on the page. Not ignoring her, exactly. Just… existing in my usual way.
I flipped the next page. Quiet.
"Hey, Cloud Boy."
Cloud Boy?
No way she was talking to me. Maybe she had an imaginary friend or something. Either way, I stayed glued to my book like it held the secrets of the universe.
"It's not nice to ignore someone," she said, stepping closer like she hadn't just interrupted my peace—or like she had, and didn't care.
I ignored her. Again.
That was my thing. People at school didn't talk to me. I didn't talk to them. An unspoken pact. A mutual ghosting.
Honestly, I preferred it that way.
Real life was messy. Loud. Too full of shifting moods and people who said one thing but meant another.
Imagination, though? Stories didn't lie. Characters didn't pretend. Books made more sense than people ever could.
She didn't leave.
Instead, she plopped down beside me like she'd been invited. Her backpack hit the bench with a soaked thud, and she shook her umbrella off without warning, splattering droplets all over my page.
I stared at the page. Just the page. Not her. Not the rain.
"You're really committed to this whole 'mysterious loner' thing, huh?" she said, unbothered. "You've got the book, the silence, the whole 'main character in a sad indie movie' vibe going on."
Still, I said nothing. Not because I didn't have anything to say—just... didn't know how to say it out loud.
She sighed dramatically, like she was tired for me. "Fine. You don't talk. That's cool. I'll do the talking."
I braced myself.
"I'm zani," she said, stretching her arms like she was announcing it to the clouds. "I like the rain, but I hate worms. I think pigeons are government spies. My favorite color changes every week—right now it's fog. Not gray. Fog. Oh, and I talk too much. Clearly."
She looked at me like she was waiting for applause or at least a chuckle. I gave her neither.
She leaned closer, chin propped on her hand. "So, Cloud Boy. What's your tragic backstory?"
I turned a page. "You're loud."
She gasped, dramatically clutching her chest like I'd just wounded her.
"He speaks! Cloud Boy speaks!"
I almost smiled. Almost
I had this way of talking—brutal. Real. Unfiltered. It was just…part of me.
"What else do you expect from a human?" I muttered.
"Well, most people are deaf… and dumb," she shot back without missing a beat.
"You knew I wasn't deaf for sure."
"So you were ignoring me?"
She gasped, full drama, like I'd just revealed I was secretly a vampire.
I finally lifted my eyes from my book. Looked at her properly.
She was… beautiful.
Brown skin that glowed even in the cloudy light. Slightly chubby cheeks, sprinkled with freckles like constellations. Glitter hugged the corners of her eyes—like she'd cried stardust or something.
"I prefer silence," I said, before dropping my eyes back to the page.
"Blaaargh. Boringggg."
The rain slowed, softening into a misty drizzle. That was my cue. The universe giving me a quiet exit.
I slipped my book into my bag, adjusted the strap, and walked out of the shelter.
"Heyyyy!" she called, scooping up her backpack and chasing after me. Her shoes slapped wet pavement. "You can't just leave like that!"
"The rain stopped," I replied, my voice flat, already slipping back into the safety of silence.
Usually, this was the part where people gave up. Where they decided I was too weird, too cold, too unreachable.
They never realized silence wasn't a punishment. It was protection. My oxygen. My peace.
She probably didn't get it.
Couldn't possibly understand how much I craved the quiet.