Kai's POVThis year? Burn it. Bury it. Scrub it from the record books of my life. It's a jagged shard of glass I pray will never reflect in the mirror of time again. In two hours, a countdown to zero, the world will decree a fresh start, a clean slate. But tonight, as the final sands of this disastrous year slip away, the ghosts of what I've lost cling to me like shadows in a haunted room.Mom's a silhouette against the blue glow of the TV, a familiar scene, a nightly ritual. Dad's still chasing the clock at work, a ghost himself until the early hours. It's just Kiara and me, huddled on the balcony, swallowed by blankets against the winter's bite. Above, the indifferent constellations blaze, their ancient light a cruel mockery of the darkness churning within me.And then he's there. Not physically, not really, but a phantom limb, a vivid ache in the space beside me. It's Leo, sharp and clear as if he were carved from moonlight. God, he was beautiful – a creature of devastating grace, every line of him a whispered promise. His dark hair, wind-tossed even in memory, framed a face that could stop time. And his eyes... those storm-swept eyes, the color of a turbulent sea, pulled me under, a dangerous, irresistible current. A longing, sharp and exquisite, threatens to tear me apart."Kai, a shooting star! Make a wish!" Kiara's voice, bright with innocent hope, pierces the silence. I watch the fleeting streak of light, a fragile spark against the infinite black, a whisper of hope in the face of my personal apocalypse.I wish he was here.No, that's not enough.I wish I could see him again.The words are swallowed by the cold, a silent, desperate prayer to a deaf universe. The wish reverberates in the hollow chambers of my heart, a mournful echo of what was, and what can never be again.The silence presses down, thick with unspoken grief. I miss him, a visceral, bone-deep ache that steals my breath. I miss the sound of his laughter, the way his hand fit perfectly in mine, the quiet warmth of his presence like a sunbeam on my skin. Every stolen moment, every shared secret, is a treasure I clutch fiercely, knowing that no one, no one, understands.Not Dad. Not Mom. Not even Kiara. To them, Leo is a fabrication, a phantom conjured from the depths of my imagination, a trick of the light. To them, I'm just a quiet, perhaps overly sensitive, teenager. They see the practiced smiles, the polite conversations, the desperate attempts to blend in. They don't see the gaping hole in my soul, the constant, gnawing longing for a reality that exists only for me.Only I knew him. Only I knew the truth. Only I saw him, a vibrant, breathing soul, a reality that defies their limited understanding. Only I loved him with a fierce, all-consuming passion, a love that shattered the boundaries of the physical world. And only I witnessed his agonizing disappearance, the way he faded, like a dream dissolving at dawn.Doctors, therapists, the whole chorus line of "experts," have offered their diagnoses, their clinical labels like sterile bandages on a gaping wound. Schizophrenia. Delusions. A fractured mind seeking solace in fantasy. They prescribed pills, offered platitudes, tried to convince me that Leo was nothing more than a hallucination, a figment of my broken imagination. They told me I was crazy.But I know better. He was real. Is real. Will always be real. He exists beyond the sterile confines of their rational explanations, a testament to the power of the heart, a defiant spark of love in a world that demands conformity.The thought of the new year, of this forced "fresh start," fills me with a suffocating mix of hope and terror. Can I truly leave the past behind? Can I ever escape the ghost of Leo, the phantom warmth of his hand, the echo of his voice in the quiet corners of my mind? Or am I destined to carry him with me, a secret burden, a silent devotion that will forever shape the landscape of my life?As the final minutes tick away, the uncaring stars offer no answers. Only the hollow promise of a new beginning, and the unwavering, terrifying certainty that my love, my ghost, my reality, will always be with me, etched into the deepest, most sacred chamber of my soul.Leo... Always Leo.
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Lost 2009
Lost 2009
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
I miss the sound of his laughter, the way his hand fit perfectly in mine, the quiet warmth of his presence like a sunbeam on my skin. Every stolen moment, every shared secret, is a treasure I clutch fiercely, knowing that no one, no one, understands.
Not Dad. Not Mom. Not even Kiara. To them, Leo is a fabrication, a phantom conjured from the depths of my imagination, a trick of the light. To them, I'm just a quiet, perhaps overly sensitive, teenager. They see the practiced smiles, the polite conversations, the desperate attempts to blend in. They don't see the gaping hole in my soul, the constant, gnawing longing for a reality that exists only for me.