Since that night in the park, our relationship changed.
No longer just friends, or two people who happened to meet often in the library.
There was something more than that—deeper, more… dangerous.
Haruto became more open to me. He often sent late-night messages, sometimes just simple words like, "Are you still awake?" or "I just want to hear you reply."
At first, I thought it was cute, but over time, something about it made me uneasy.
Not because I was bothered—but because I felt he was depending too much on me.
One morning, he didn't come to school.
No message. No news.
I waited for him in the library, hoping he would suddenly appear with his bright smile like usual. But what came instead was only silence and the sound of book pages I turned without focus.
During break time, I decided to go to his house.
The Takahiro family home was quite far from school, but I didn't care.
When I arrived, the gate was slightly open, and the atmosphere was quiet. No sound of television, no sign of life.
I knocked on the door. "Takahiro? It's Rena."
No answer.
I slowly pushed the door open, and—in the living room—I saw him sitting on the floor, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. In his hand, there was the same photo as before: his mother.
"Haruto…" I called softly.
He turned, his eyes red. "Why are you here?"
"I was worried."
He stared at me for a few seconds, then smiled weakly. "Worried? About what?"
I sat down in front of him, carefully. "Because you didn't come to school. Because you said you just needed time alone—but it turns out you're drowning here instead."
He let out a short, bitter laugh. "You don't understand, Rena. Sometimes, being alone is the only way to keep myself from falling apart."
I went silent. "You feel broken?"
He looked at me for a long time. "Every day."
Silence. The air in that room felt heavy, pressing against my chest.
I wanted to hug him, but somehow my hands froze. There was a strange fear I couldn't explain.
"Rena," he said finally. "Do you believe… that someone can live between two worlds?"
I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"The world everyone else can see, and the world that only I can feel," he said softly. "Sometimes, I feel like my mom is still here. I hear her voice at night. I know it's not real, but it feels too… real to ignore."
His voice trembled. His eyes began to fill with tears.
"Haruto…"
I could only call his name softly. Because I knew, if I spoke louder, he might break at any moment.
He looked at me with an expression hard to describe—somewhere between loss, fear, and longing piled together.
"If you suddenly disappeared, Rena… I don't know what I'd do," he finally said.
And that sentence made my heart stop for a moment.
It wasn't just a confession. It was a plea. A dependency.
Since that day, I began to realize: love can be terrifying when it turns into something one needs to survive.
---
The days after that felt strange.
Haruto came back to school, but everyone noticed the change in him. He was quieter, more easily startled, and sometimes talked to himself in the back seat.
The teacher scolded him, but he only smiled as usual.
Only I knew that smile was empty.
"Takamine-san," the guidance counselor called me one afternoon.
"How's your relationship with Haruto lately? He seems… unstable."
I froze. "He's fine, Sensei. Maybe just tired."
The teacher looked at me, as if knowing I was lying.
"Sometimes, the ones who look fine are the ones who need help the most."
That sentence echoed in my mind all the way home.
I started to wonder: what could I really do for him?
I wasn't a therapist. I wasn't a savior. I was just someone who… worried about him.
That night, I got another message from him.
> Haruto: "Rena, have you ever thought… maybe this world is just someone's dream?"
> Me: "I don't know. But if it is, I hope I can still meet you in that dream."
> Haruto: "Are you sure? What if I'm not part of the real world?"
> Me: "If you're just a shadow… then let me drown in that shadow."
His last message sent shivers down my spine.
Not because it was romantic—but because it felt like a farewell.
I called him right away, but he didn't answer.
Once. Twice. Five times.
Then finally, the ringing stopped, and a faint voice answered.
"Rena…"
His voice was hoarse, quiet.
"Don't come to the park tonight," he said.
My heart started pounding. "Haruto! Where are you?!"
But the call ended.
And I knew, I had to go there.
---
The park was dark, lit only by a flickering streetlight.
I ran, my breath racing. And under the big tree where we used to sit before—I saw him.
Haruto, standing by the riverbank, staring at the dark water below.
"Haruto!" I shouted.
He turned slowly.
"Why did you come?"
"Because you told me not to," I replied, almost crying. "You know that's the reason I came!"
He looked at me for a long time, then laughed softly. "You're weird, Rena."
"I know," I replied quickly. "And you're weird too. But that's not a reason to give up."
He looked down. "I'm tired of pretending to live."
I stepped forward, slowly but surely. "You don't have to pretend. Just… live."
He shook his head. "But everything hurts."
I stopped right in front of him, looking into his tearful eyes.
Then without thinking, I held his hand. Tightly.
"If it hurts, share half of it with me," I whispered. "I won't let you drown alone."
"I promise I will erase all your sadness,"
I said gently.
He stayed silent for a long time. Then finally, slowly, his hand squeezed mine back.
For the first time, he seemed to cry in front of me.
Tears that had been held back for so long—not just because of loss, but because finally, there was someone who stayed.
That night, we just stood there.
Just two people trying to survive between the reality of the present and the shadows of the past.
---
On the way home, Haruto held my hand tightly.
"I'm afraid of losing myself, Rena," he said softly.
I looked at him. "If you get lost, I'll find you again. With you."
He smiled faintly. But this time, for the first time, that smile looked real.
And that night I realized—sometimes, love isn't about healing someone else.
It's about having the courage to stay beside them, even when the world inside their mind begins to fall apart.
– TO BE CONTINUED –