The silver glow of a full moon cast elongated shadows across the empty playground. I sat alone on a weathered park bench, my knees hugged tightly to my chest. The night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of London—a city that never quite reached this secluded spot. My breath formed small clouds in the cool air as I stared up at the moon, seeking answers it could not provide.
"I've run away from home again," I thought, the realization settling heavily in my chest. The suffocating emptiness of our family's mansion lingered in my mind—a house so big, yet so hollow. Silence echoed off every marble surface, a constant reminder of the void within. Despite disliking my nanny's constant presence, I had paid her to leave me alone for the night. "Even her incessant fussing was better than the oppressive quiet," I mused, a hint of regret coloring my thoughts.
Yet, as I sat there in the park, I realized that solitude was heavier than I had expected. The weight of it had driven me to flee into the night, seeking... what? Connection? Understanding? I wasn't sure I even knew anymore.
A jogger passed by, breaking my reverie. He was a middle-aged man, accompanied by his young son who lagged behind, panting heavily. The boy stopped near my bench, leaning against a lamppost, gasping for breath. Their voices carried clearly in the still night air.
"I'm tired, Dad," the boy whined, his cheeks flushed with exertion.
The father's response was stern, but I caught the subtle undertone of concern. "Don't be weak. No one made you eat so much and gain that extra weight."
I observed their interaction with a detached fascination. The father's words were harsh, but his eyes betrayed his worry. "He truly cares about him," I thought, a twinge of something—envy, perhaps?—stirring in my chest.
"My legs won't move," the boy complained dramatically.
The father sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, if your legs are tired, let's go home and do push-ups!"
As the boy groaned and his father chuckled, gently pulling him along, I was left with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Why do I feel so awful inside?" I wondered, the question echoing in the emptiness within me.
I contemplated my own weakness. "Am I as weak as that boy? Lacking the strength to face anything?" The thought flitted through my mind: "Maybe I should start training too." But deep down, I knew physical strength wasn't the cure for the emptiness that plagued me.
Rising from the bench, I decided to walk through the park's winding paths. The gravel crunched beneath my feet, a rhythmic sound that accompanied my wandering thoughts. As I passed by a shallow puddle reflecting the pale moonlight, my reflection caught my eye.
A boy with slightly disheveled black hair stared back at me, though faint white roots were beginning to show. Porcelain skin contrasted sharply with the darkness around him. But it was the eyes that held my attention—gray orbs that appeared hollow, mirroring the emptiness I felt inside.
"Looks like it's time to dye my hair again," I noted, observing the emerging white strands. The memory of why I started dyeing my hair black surfaced unbidden. "She preferred it this way," I recalled, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. "Funny how small changes can mean so much."
The night grew late, and the chill in the air intensified. "Time to head home," I murmured to myself, the thought of school tomorrow weighing on me. "Another Monday. Another cycle of monotony."
As I made my way back, the streets were quiet, the usual bustle of London subdued at that hour. Rain began to drizzle, droplets forming intricate patterns on my umbrella. The soft patter of rain against fabric became a soothing rhythm, almost lulling me into a sense of peace.
Morning arrived too soon, light filtering through heavy curtains to cast a dim glow in my spacious bedroom. I dressed meticulously, choosing my uniform with care. As I adjusted my tie in the mirror, ensuring everything was perfectly in place, Oreo, my black cat, rubbed against my leg, purring softly.
"See you after school," I whispered, gently scratching behind Oreo's ear. The cat looked up at me with knowing green eyes, offering a silent companionship that I had come to cherish. It was a small comfort, but one I was grateful for in the vastness of this empty house.
Grabbing my umbrella—the sky was overcast, threatening rain—I stepped out into the damp morning. "Another dreary day," I thought, my footsteps echoing on the wet pavement as I made my way to school.
I moved at a measured pace, unbothered by the light rain that began to fall. Passersby offered me curious glances, but I paid them no mind. "Stares are nothing new," I mused, used to the attention my appearance often drew.
But that day, the stares felt different—more pointed, laced with something unsettling. "Did something happen?" I wondered, feeling a knot form in my stomach. The familiar walk to school suddenly felt fraught with an unknown tension.
As I entered the school building, the corridors buzzed with murmured conversations that seemed to hush as I passed. I noticed groups of students whispering, their eyes darting away when I looked in their direction. The knot in my stomach tightened.
In the classroom, I spotted her—my beloved girl. Her long brown hair swayed gently as she moved, a sight that usually brought me comfort. But today, something felt off.
"Hey," I said softly, approaching her. She glanced at me briefly, her eyes avoiding mine. She nodded curtly and quickly moved to her desk. The dismissal stung, confusion and worry warring within me.
"Did something happen?" I thought, a pang of anxiety gripping me. Before I could pursue the matter, the history teacher strode in, calling the class to order.
"Of all subjects, history," I thought with mild disdain as the teacher began to drone on about events that seemed irrelevant to my life. I tried to focus, but my mind wandered back to her unusual behavior. Across the room, I noticed my best friend sitting unusually far away, avoiding eye contact. "Why is he sitting so far away?" The question nagged at me.
As the lesson progressed, I couldn't help but observe that my friend seemed uncomfortably close to my girlfriend. "Am I overthinking this?" I questioned, attempting to dismiss the uneasy feeling that had been growing since I arrived at school.
The bell finally rang, signaling the end of the lesson. I quickly gathered my things, intent on speaking with her to clear up whatever misunderstanding might have occurred. But before I could approach, she gently tugged on my friend's sleeve, motioning towards the door. They left together, their heads close as they whispered to each other.
"What's going on?" I thought, a mix of confusion and irritation bubbling within me. The sight of them leaving together, so intimately, sent a chill down my spine.
"Raven," a familiar voice called out. I turned to see one of my girlfriend's close friends approaching hesitantly. Her expression was serious, tinged with what looked like... pity?
"Can we talk for a minute? There's something really important you need to know," she said softly. The gravity in her tone was unmistakable, and despite my growing apprehension, I agreed. "Alright."
We walked to the back of the school, finding shelter under a large oak tree. The leaves provided some cover from the light rain, droplets pattering softly around us. The atmosphere felt heavy, laden with unspoken words.
She handed me her phone, the screen displaying a series of messages. "You need to see this," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle rain.
I read through the texts, my eyes scanning each word carefully. With each line, the world around me seemed to fade away, narrowing down to the harsh reality displayed on the small screen. The conversation revealed my girlfriend's infidelity, her true feelings, and the deception orchestrated with my best friend.
My hands grew numb, the phone feeling unbearably heavy. A cold sensation washed over me, as if the rain had soaked through to my very core. I stared at the ground, willing myself to remain stoic. "Don't let her see you falter," I told myself, fighting to maintain composure.
With a steady hand that belied the turmoil within, I gave the phone back. "I see," I said quietly, my voice devoid of emotion.
"Raven," she began, her eyes glistening with genuine remorse. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I wanted you to see what kind of person she really is."
She explained, her words hitting me like physical blows. My girlfriend never truly loved me. She had been dating my best friend, her childhood friend, before a fight led them to break up. On a whim, she had seduced me to make him jealous.
"They gave it a year," she continued, each word another crack in the facade I was struggling to maintain. "A year to see if you'd notice, to see if things would change."
They had already reconciled, planning to break the news to me. But it got worse. They had shared intimate moments—kisses, embraces—while she was still with me. She had shared all of our private conversations with him and others.
"I... I wanted you to realize the truth," she said, tears forming in her eyes. "I was the one who spread those photos." She paused before admitting with tears clearly visible on the edges of her eyes, "Because I… I love you."
A storm raged within me—betrayal, hurt, anger—but outwardly, I remained composed. "So, this is what trust leads to," I thought bitterly, the realization settling like lead in my stomach.
I looked up, my eyes now empty pools devoid of the warmth they once held. "Thank you for telling me," I whispered, my voice barely audible. Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. The rain intensified, mirroring the turmoil inside me.
On my way home, the rain subsided, leaving the streets glistening under the muted afternoon light. As I passed by a small bookstore, I overheard two boys arguing animatedly outside.
One, a freckle-faced boy with thick glasses, exclaimed, "I'm telling you, rom-coms are the best genre of anime!"
I paused, the passionate declaration catching my attention. "Rom-coms?" I thought, intrigued despite myself. That day, I lost one thing and found another. On a whim, I decided to enter the bookstore, the bell chiming softly as I stepped inside.
Wandering through the aisles, I picked up a brightly colored manga with cheerful characters on the cover. "Escapism in its purest form," I mused, flipping through the pages. As I did, I felt a faint stirring—a flicker of something other than emptiness. "Perhaps there was solace to be found in these stories."
From that moment on, I immersed myself in their worlds, their joys and sorrows, to forget my own. Fantasies became my refuge, reality a mere backdrop. It was ironic how fiction felt more genuine than the life I had led.
That day, I didn't cry. I never cried. I didn't know how to cry. Only my soul wept, but my eyes remained as dry as ever. I had finally lost all joy in life. Trust, love, friendship—they were illusions I could no longer afford to believe in.
Even now, years later, as I stood in my apartment in Tokyo, gazing out at the city lights that mirrored the stars I once watched in London, the echoes of the past lingered. But at least I had learned how to drown them out.
In the end, perhaps we were all just searching for a place where the pain couldn't reach us. Some things changed, others remained the same. But as I looked out at the sprawling cityscape before me, I couldn't help but wonder what new chapters awaited in this unfamiliar setting.
The white-haired boy reflected in the window stared back at me, his eyes no longer as hollow as they once were. There was a spark there now—a curiosity, a desire to script a different kind of story.
"Who knows," I murmured to myself, a faint smile playing on my lips, "maybe it's time to write my own rom-com."
With that thought, I turned away from the window, picking up the manga I had been reading earlier. As I settled deeper into my comfortable bed, Oreo curling up at my feet, I allowed myself to be drawn once more into a world where love triumphed and happy endings were guaranteed.
After all, in the realm of romantic comedies, even a cynical, white-haired transfer student might find his place in the sun.
That day, Raven Gray lost one thing and found another.