Another perspective

...• —— Chapter 🌧️—— •...

Aki

It was supposed to be a normal day.

Graduation was coming fast, and everything around me felt like static—people rushing to get signatures in yearbooks, teachers handing out last words like candy, the weight of adulthood pressing down even though no one wanted to admit it.

And then he disappeared.

I noticed right away. Maybe that says something, doesn’t it? About how much I’d come to care—how much I was watching, even when I pretended not to be. He wasn’t in class. Not at lunch. Not even at art club, where he always hovered near me like a quiet echo.

At first, I brushed it off. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he just needed a break.

But then days passed. A week. Two.

And I started to worry.

It was weird—how quiet everything got without him. I hadn’t realized how used to his presence I’d become. The way he’d linger just close enough to be noticed, always helping, always watching. And yeah, the photos freaked me out. Who wouldn’t be freaked out by that? Knowing someone was collecting pieces of you like souvenirs from a life you didn’t know you were starring in?

But that didn’t mean I wanted him gone.

I kept thinking about the way he looked when the flash went off. Like the whole world collapsed in his chest. Like he was already preparing to vanish, to sink back into that invisible place he used to live in before we met.

And I hated that.

So I went to see him.

When I stepped into his room, I didn’t expect to find him like that—curled up, buried in blankets like he was trying to disappear into the mattress. His eyes were puffy. His voice barely worked. He looked like someone who’d convinced himself he didn’t deserve to exist.

And I hated that even more.

I sat beside him, lit a cigarette just to keep my hands busy, said something stupid like, “You’ve been gone too long.” But what I really wanted to say was: You scared me. Don’t leave ever again motherfucker.

He apologized. In the saddest, smallest way I’ve ever seen someone apologize.

And I couldn’t stay mad. Not really.

Because I saw it then—clear as day. The way he had twisted himself into someone he thought I’d want. The way every version of himself was shaped around me. It was messed up, yeah. But it came from a place of pain, not cruelty.

“You don’t have to be perfect to be around me,” I told him. I meant it.

He cried. I stayed. That’s all there was to it.

After that, things changed. He came back to school. He clung a little tighter. Watched a little closer. But something was different in me too.

I started seeing him.

Not just as the quiet boy in the corner. Not just as the helper. But as someone who’d survived so much more than I’d ever known. Someone whose love came out messy, desperate, and loud—but real. So painfully real.

On the day of graduation, when I couldn’t find him in the crowd, I knew where to look. I followed the ache in my chest straight to the bathroom door and knocked.

He was breaking. Again. And this time, I knew I couldn’t let him fall alone.

“You’ve cried enough for today,” I said. “Let me hold you.”

And he let me.

I held him like I meant it. Because I did.

Because even if he scared me sometimes... even if his feelings overwhelmed me... even if I didn’t know what we were—

I wanted him to know this:

He wasn’t invisible anymore.

He never would be again.

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