"When awareness is brought to an emotion, power is brought to your life." - Tara Meyer Robson
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Chapter 1: The Arrival of Abel
The gates of Kuoh Academy opened with a creak as the students flooded in, eager to start another day at the prestigious school. Among them, one figure stood out—Abel.
Tall, with striking, almost ethereal features, Abel's presence was undeniable. His pale white hair shimmered under the morning sun, his sharp, angular features almost giving him an otherworldly appearance. His eyes, dark but captivating, held a coldness that seemed out of place amidst the bustling students. It was clear from the moment he walked through the gates that Abel was different.
Though he had been at Kuoh Academy for a few months now, he was still somewhat of an enigma to most students. His silence, his refusal to engage with anyone, made him both intriguing and unsettling. There were rumors about him, whispers that spread through the school like wildfire. Some claimed he was emotionless, others said he was aloof because of a past tragedy. No one really knew for sure, and Abel had never given them any reason to inquire further.
Despite his beauty, there was something about him that made others uneasy. His aura—emotionless, detached—seemed to push people away. Abel didn't care about the gossip. He didn't need to. He had learned long ago to detach himself from everything. His life had been filled with pain and abandonment, and it had shaped him into someone who didn't need or want connection.
As Abel entered the classroom, he could feel the familiar stares of his classmates. Some were curious, others seemed almost afraid of him. He paid them no mind. He didn't care about their fascination or their pity. All that mattered to him was that the walls he had built to protect himself remained intact.
The teacher entered, and Abel took his seat quietly, his posture perfect, his eyes unwavering. His mind wandered for a moment, but it wasn't to the school or the students around him. Instead, it drifted to the quiet hum of his own thoughts. His past, the reality he had been trapped in for as long as he could remember, was what truly occupied him. It was a lonely place, but that was fine. He didn't need companionship. He didn't need anything. The sooner he accepted that, the better.
The day passed slowly, and Abel remained an enigma to his classmates. They continued their whispers, but none of it affected him. As the hours ticked by, he kept to himself, not interacting with anyone. He didn't need to. His existence was solitary by design.
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Lunchtime arrived, and the cafeteria became a bustling hub of activity. Students sat in groups, eating and talking, laughing and joking. Abel, however, found a quiet corner, far away from the noise and chaos. He didn't need to be part of their world. He preferred the isolation.
As he sat alone, eating in silence, the buzz of conversations around him filtered in, and once again, he overheard his name.
"Have you heard about Abel?" one voice whispered.
Another voice, filled with intrigue, responded. "Yeah, he's... strange. I heard he doesn't react to anything. It's like he's... empty inside."
"Do you think he's like... broken?" another voice added, their curiosity evident. "Or is he just pretending to be that way?"
Abel's expression remained unchanged, though inside, his thoughts stirred. He had heard these rumors before, and yet, they still managed to dig under his skin. Emotionless. Broken. Detached. Words that defined him without truly understanding him. But he didn't care. At least, he told himself he didn't.
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Later that day, as Abel walked through the halls, he encountered Aika—one of the students who had been whispering about him earlier. She was an average-looking girl, but there was something about her that caught his attention. Her eyes, curious and wide, seemed to follow him as he passed by, and for a brief moment, their gazes met.
"Are you... lonely?" Aika's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as though she was unsure whether she had the right to ask such a question.
Abel paused, the question hanging in the air like a weight. His body remained still, though his mind began to churn with thoughts he didn't know how to process. Lonely? The word felt foreign to him. It wasn't a concept he had ever truly grasped. What did it even mean to be lonely?
A moment of silence passed between them, and Abel's gaze shifted, staring past her into the busy hallway beyond. He could hear the soft footsteps of students moving past, the clinking of lunch trays, the chatter of voices. It was a reminder of the world outside, a world that he felt detached from.
He hadn't asked for this—this empty existence, this perpetual isolation. He had learned to embrace it, however, after countless years of rejection and abandonment. His family had molded him into someone who didn't need anyone. He had become the product of their neglect and cruelty. But lonely it wasn't something he was sure he understood. Isolated, distant, numb those words, he understood well.
His voice, when it finally came, was quiet and devoid of any feeling, as though it had been carefully crafted to match his emotionless demeanor.
"I don't need anyone," he said, his tone flat, almost cold.
His words hung in the air between them, leaving an odd sense of finality. Aika's eyes searched his face, looking for any hint of emotion, some sign that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as indifferent as he appeared. But all she found was a calm, unreadable mask.
Aika blinked, seemingly taken aback by his bluntness. Yet something about the way he spoke—the certainty in his voice—drew her in even more. There was no sadness, no anger, just… nothing. It was as if he had cut himself off completely from the world around him.
The brief exchange left her conflicted, curious. Lonely? Was he lonely? A part of her wanted to probe further, to ask more questions, to try and get to the heart of him. But she didn't. Instead, she simply nodded and stepped back, allowing him to continue on his way.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, but Abel's thoughts lingered on Aika's question. Was he lonely? The word itself didn't mean much to him. He had never truly experienced loneliness the way others did. To him, it was just a word, a concept he had learned about but never understood.
He walked home in silence, the world around him a blur. His apartment, small and cold, awaited him as always. The apartment itself felt like a reflection of his life—empty, devoid of warmth, a place to sleep and nothing more. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and Abel locked it, sealing himself in.
His parents weren't home, not yet. His father was out drinking, and his mother was somewhere, probably lost in a haze of her own. Abel didn't care about their absence. He had long grown used to the silence that greeted him every day. It was all he needed.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Abel allowed his thoughts to drift. The question Aika had asked earlier lingered in the back of his mind. "Are you lonely?"
He didn't know the answer. He had always been alone, and in a way, he had accepted it. He didn't need anyone, and he didn't want anyone. He had learned that it was easier this way. Emotions only caused pain. They made you vulnerable. They made you weak.
The faint sound of his parents arguing in the next room barely registered. Abel didn't react. He never did.
The thought of Aika, however, refused to leave him. She had asked about loneliness, but why? Why would she care about someone like him? He wasn't someone who needed comfort or attention. He was fine the way he was—emotionless, detached, and safe from the chaos of the world.
But still, something about her question kept tugging at the edges of his mind. Maybe he didn't need her. But why did her curiosity matter so much?
Abel closed his eyes, pushing the thought aside. It didn't matter.
He didn't need anyone...
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