I'm starting to think that silence is more dangerous than words.
Words can be clumsy. They can slip out at the wrong time, or twist themselves into something we don't mean. But silence? Silence lingers. It builds, pressing against your chest like an invisible weight. It traps everything inside, leaving you to drown in your own thoughts.
And right now, I'm drowning.
The morning felt heavy, even though the sky was clear. I walked to school with Rei, like always, but something was different. There were more silences between us than usual. Not uncomfortable ones, just… loaded. Like there was something hanging in the air between us, something unsaid.
I knew what it was. And judging by the way Rei kept glancing at me, like she was waiting for me to say something, she knew too.
But neither of us said a word.
Class was the same. Rei sat beside me, close enough that our elbows brushed occasionally. Each time, my heart did this stupid little jump, and I had to force myself to keep my breathing steady.
She didn't pass me any notes today. No teasing comments, no whispered jokes. Just the occasional glance, as if she was waiting for something.
I wanted to say something. I really did. But every time I opened my mouth, the words refused to come out.
Why is it so hard?
At lunch, Akemi wasn't subtle about her frustration. She plopped her tray onto the table, gave me a long, unimpressed look, and sighed dramatically.
"Alright," she said. "I was willing to let this slide yesterday, but this is getting ridiculous."
I blinked at her. "What?"
"You and Rei," she said, gesturing between us. "The tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife. What is going on?"
Rei raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too amused. "Didn't know you were so invested, Akemi."
"I wouldn't be if Gabu wasn't sitting here looking like a kicked puppy," Akemi shot back. Then she turned to me, her eyes narrowing. "Did something happen?"
I hesitated. "No," I said, but it came out weaker than I intended.
Akemi's eyes narrowed further. "Liar."
Rei chuckled beside me. "She's persistent, huh?"
"You have no idea," I muttered, stabbing at my food with unnecessary force.
Akemi groaned. "Come on, Gabu. If you don't talk, I'm going to assume the worst."
I sighed, feeling my shoulders sag. "It's nothing bad, okay? It's just… I don't know how to say it."
Rei's gaze flickered toward me, something unreadable in her expression. But she stayed quiet, letting me struggle with my words.
Akemi, however, wasn't having it. "Then say it badly. Who cares? Just get it out."
I swallowed, my fingers tightening around my chopsticks. "I just… I keep thinking about things. Things I should say, but I don't know how."
Rei's expression softened slightly. "Like what?"
My heartbeat stuttered. The way she was looking at me—patient, understanding, like she was giving me the space to figure it out—made my throat tighten.
I looked down. "It doesn't matter."
Akemi groaned again, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Unbelievable. I need to find new friends."
Rei chuckled. "Good luck with that."
Akemi muttered something under her breath but didn't push any further. Still, I could feel her watching me, like she was waiting for me to get my act together.
The walk home was quiet again. Not awkward, just… quiet.
It wasn't until we reached my house that Rei finally spoke.
"Gabu."
I turned to her. "Yeah?"
She hesitated for a moment, then sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Are we okay?"
The question caught me off guard. "Of course we are."
Rei's lips quirked upward in a small smile. "Then why do you look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. How do I explain it? How do I tell her that I'm scared of saying the wrong thing, of ruining something that feels so fragile and new?
Instead of answering, I just shook my head. "I'm fine, really."
Rei didn't look convinced, but she let it go.
For now.
Dear Diary,
I wish I was braver. I wish I could just open my mouth and say what's on my mind. But every time I try, my fears get in the way.
Maybe tomorrow will be different.
Maybe I'll find the courage to say the things that are stuck inside me.
Or maybe I'll keep drowning in the silence.
Love,
Gabu