Coai Week 2023 - Little by Little

By Crystal Snowflakes

VI. crossroads || guiding hand

Intrusive thoughts were nothing new for him nowadays. He was well-acquainted with the haunting thoughts that would inevitably continue to plague his mind—it wasn't all that surprising given his current state of mind. Sometimes, it was a little too easy to get lost in his own mind, especially when there was nobody around.

She wasn't here to keep him sane—to keep him grounded.

Instead, the wind whipped through his hair as he glanced over the edge of the roof as crowds of students—of his classmates—littered the grounds to celebrate the end of the school year. Everyone looked so happy and carefree, and he wished he could feel the same.

To him, it was another reminder that another year had passed since he had been forced—trapped—in this life with no way to get out of this prison. The only thing that had kept him from losing his mind completely was having people around him who cared—having someone around him who understood him.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself from slipping into the familiar mindset that he had grown accustomed to these days. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he just climbed the ledge and jumped.

Pain? Regret?

…The sweet relief of death?

If only she knew the thoughts that ran through his head. But he'd never succumb to such an act; he'd never be able to forgive himself for hurting the people who cared about him.

Yet, the ponderings continued on endlessly, his mind constantly turning to dark places that were best left alone.

The rooftop door opened loudly behind him, and like smoke dissipating in the breeze, his thoughts vanished. He felt her presence without turning around to acknowledge her, and the solace he always found in her companionship washed over him.

She had been the one person who made everything bearable, even during the worst times. Ironic, given that she was the one who dragged him into the situation he found himself in now.

Her footsteps echoed, and she joined him by the railing overlooking the courtyard below. As if sensing his need to decompress, she didn't bother talking to him as they stood side by side, simply staring at the crowd below. He appreciated the stillness—relished the comfort that she gave him.

They stood in relative silence for longer than expected, neither of them wanting to disrupt the other's peace as their minds preoccupied themselves with their own matters.

Finally, her gaze broke off the commotion beneath them and turned upwards instead, her eyes landing on the sky above as she sighed deeply. "I see why you decided to hide here," she mused wistfully, though it felt like she was speaking more to herself than him.

He hummed noncommittally in response.

"The kids want to go out for dinner to celebrate," she continued, not bothering to turn towards him as she spoke, her voice tinged with affectionate pride. It was clear she was fond of the group of children they'd taken under their wings, and he felt the same. "Are you ready to go?"

The breeze brushed against the both of them, and he watched the way her hair danced in the air and the way the light of the sun glinted across her face. He took a moment to take in how content she appeared, and for a second, he found himself unable to think clearly.

"Kudo-kun?"

He blinked, trying to shake free of the strange feeling that crept up unexpectedly in his chest before clearing his throat. "Yeah, I'm ready."

She must have sensed his hesitation—his uncertainty—because she turned towards him, her expression softening in a way he only saw directed at him, and for a fraction of a second, he was thrown back to the past as his mother's words echoed in his ears.

Had she been right all along?

Her fingers brushed against the back of his hand, and he felt the warmth of her skin radiate through her palm, and only then did he realized how familiar he had grown to her touch—how much he relied on it, even when he didn't realize it.

"...Are you okay?" she asked, concern written in every line of her face, and for the first time in what seemed like years, he felt a trace of an emotion he thought he'd never feel again stir inside him.

He wasn't fine.

Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and nodded before turning his hand over, intertwining their fingers together. She didn't seem to notice the trembling in his hands, nor did she flinch or shy away from the contact—instead, she squeezed his hand in return, and it was enough reassurance for him to breathe easier.

"Yeah," he replied. "I think so."

Completed: September 20, 2023