Morning crept in quietly.
The first golden rays of sunlight spilled through half-drawn blinds, painting the room in pale amber. The city beyond was just beginning to stir — the faint hum of engines, the distant chatter of early risers.
Yuri opened his eyes to the same silence that had greeted him every morning since he could remember. No birdsong. No voices. Just the faint tick of the wall clock, marking another day he'd chosen to keep living.
He sat up slowly, bare-chested, eyes heavy but alert. The sheets were cold. For a long moment, he simply stared out the window at the rising sun, as if searching for something that refused to be found.
He inhaled deeply, his breath fogging the glass.
Then — exhaled.
A new day meant new discipline.
He dropped to the floor.
"...One."
The first push-up burned less than it used to.
"...Two."
By fifty, the ache began to whisper.
By two hundred, it screamed.
Sweat traced lines down his back as the weight of the bed above him pressed down like a silent challenge. His mind slipped into rhythm — pain and breath, pain and breath — until his thoughts disappeared entirely.
Then, pull-ups. His arms trembled beneath the old steel beam bolted across his ceiling. He counted in whispers that only he could hear. A hundred. Two. The muscles in his shoulders burned with memory — every scar, every night of rage condensed into one motion.
By the time he reached the abdominal crunches, five hundred deep, his body shook. But he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Then — buzz.
The sudden vibration from his phone shattered the quiet. He blinked, reached over to check it.
Unknown contact.
A message: "Come down."
No name. No context.
Yuri's brows furrowed. A threat? A trap? A challenge? He couldn't tell. But curiosity was a dangerous itch — and Yuri had always been one to scratch.
He slipped on a dark shirt and gray sweats, tied his hair back loosely, and slid his hands into his pockets. His heartbeat steadied. His mind sharpened.
The hallway outside his apartment felt unusually still.
Each creak of the wooden steps echoed like a warning as he descended.
When he reached the door to the lobby, his body tensed automatically.
Someone was waiting on the other side — he could feel it.
He reached for the handle.
But before his fingers touched the metal —
The doors flew open.
"Huh—"
Standing there, grinning awkwardly, was Eithen.
Behind him — Sarah and Gemma, dressed casually, eyes bright and curious.
Eithen: "Uh—hey. You good? We didn't wake you, did we?"
Yuri: "Uh…"
Sarah: "Sorry for showing up like this, Yuri. Hope you don't have plans today."
Yuri: "N-no, not really. Hi, guys. What's this about?"
Eithen scratched the back of his neck, half-smiling.
Eithen: "Well, I kinda told them something's been bothering you lately. So… since it's the weekend and we're all free, they suggested a day out."
Yuri: "A day out?"
Gemma: "Y-yeah… it might be fun, don't you think?"
He looked at her — really looked at her.
Gemma hadn't been the same since that incident. Her laugh had grown quieter, her posture smaller, like she was trying to fold herself away from the world.
Sarah: "Soo… you in?"
Yuri hesitated. The weight of habit told him to refuse — solitude was safer. But something in Gemma's trembling smile stopped him.
Yuri: "…Sure. That sounds… pleasant."
Their faces lit up instantly. Sarah clapped. Eithen let out a triumphant laugh. Gemma's smile — though faint — seemed almost genuine. They pulled him along before he could think twice.
They spent the day wandering through the city like children who'd forgotten the word tragedy.
The zoo came first — loud laughter, melting ice cream, the scent of animals and fried food blending in the air. Yuri walked a step behind, quietly watching the others.
For a man who had seen the world painted in blood, this kind of peace felt… alien.
Next came the arcade. Bright lights flashed, music blared, coins clattered into metal trays. Sarah and Eithen threw themselves into every game like rivals in a tournament, while Gemma laughed shyly from behind a plush toy she'd just won. Yuri tried one round — his reflexes almost too sharp for the machine — and when he actually smiled, they all stared like they'd seen a miracle.
Lunch followed at a restaurant far beyond their budget. They ended up washing dishes together to pay off the bill, laughing through soap bubbles and exhaustion. Then back to the arcade, where time seemed to stop meaning anything.
With every laugh, Yuri felt something stirring inside him — something faint, delicate, almost frightening.
Joy.
It felt foreign on his skin, like a language he'd forgotten how to speak.
And yet, beneath that warmth, a shadow whispered: This happiness isn't meant for you.
By nightfall, they reached the local amusement park, its neon lights glowing against the dusk. The group split up — Eithen and Sarah went to hunt for drinks, while Yuri and Gemma searched for snacks.
The air was cool, alive with music and the smell of caramel and oil.
Gemma: "Hehe! I'm sure this'll be enough to beat those two!" she said, arms full of sweets.
Yuri: "Yeah…"
He paused. Her laughter sounded hollow, a little too careful.
Yuri: "Gemma… are you okay?"
She froze.
Gemma: "H-huh? W-where'd that come from, Yuri? Why wouldn't I be?"
Yuri: "I know it's sudden. And maybe I'm wrong. But… all day, you've had your guard up. And that smile—"
He looked at her, eyes soft but piercing.
"—it's been forced, hasn't it?"
Her grip on the snack bags loosened. The laughter died. Slowly, her gaze fell to the ground.
Gemma: "W-why…?" she whispered, voice trembling. "Why did it have to be me? What did I ever do that was so wrong?"
The bags hit the ground. She clutched her arms, shaking.
Gemma: "Why… why did I live, when he—"
Her voice broke. Tears welled. She sank to her knees, trembling violently.
Yuri didn't think — his body simply moved.
He knelt beside her, arms wrapping around her small, trembling frame.
Yuri: "G-Gemma…"
She froze at first, then clung to him like he was the last solid thing in her collapsing world. Her cries came in ragged waves — raw, desperate, real.
Gemma: "He saved me! He saved me, and I pushed him away like an animal!"
Her words cut deeper than she could ever know. They pierced something long buried in Yuri's chest — guilt, grief, rage, all tangled together.
He held her tighter.
Yuri: "It's okay… it's not your fault. There are bad people in this world — parasites who feed on others' pain. They're the ones who should suffer. Not you."
Gemma's sobs grew softer, her breathing uneven. In his arms, she finally allowed herself to break — the façade shattered, leaving only the truth of her pain.
Yuri felt it too — her sorrow burned in him like fuel. Every tear became another vow.
He would cleanse this world of its filth.
Later, they reunited with Sarah and Eithen. None of them spoke about what happened — but they didn't need to. The silence between them was full of understanding.
They ended the night walking Gemma home, making sure she didn't take a single step alone.
The streets were quiet, the stars faint above the city haze.
For the first time in a long while, Yuri felt something close to peace.
Not because his pain was gone — but because, for once, someone else didn't have to bear theirs alone.
And as the night swallowed their laughter, Yuri glanced at the stars and thought,
Maybe… this is what living feels like.