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Chapter 7: Waiting Hurts Louder
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The night after he left the letter, Ren couldn’t sleep.
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He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, every breath heavier than the last. His chest felt hollow, like something had been pulled out and left gaping. He kept replaying the moment—kneeling at the music room door, slipping the letter beneath it, walking away without turning back.
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He wondered if Haruki had picked it up.
If he had read it.
If he had cried.
If he had laughed.
If he had felt anything at all.
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The silence that followed was unbearable.
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By morning, Ren’s eyes were red from not crying.
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He went to school early, even though his stomach churned with dread. Every hallway felt tighter than usual. Every voice sounded too loud, every whisper too close.
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When he passed the music room, the lights were off. The door was closed. No sign of Haruki.
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He didn’t check if the letter was still there.
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He couldn’t.
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What if it wasn’t?
What if it had been torn apart?
What if Haruki had never even seen it—never cared to pick it up?
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The thoughts twisted inside him like vines around his ribs. He couldn’t breathe properly. He sat at his desk during homeroom, eyes on the door, waiting.
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But Haruki didn’t come.
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Not that period.
Not the next.
Not the next.
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Ren wandered to the rooftop during lunch, where no one else ever went. The sky was overcast. The wind was cold. He sat against the fence and pulled out the second copy of the letter—yes, he had written two.
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Just in case the first one never made it.
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He read it again.
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By the time he reached the last line—
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> “You were my favorite part of this life.”
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—his hands were trembling.
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“What if I made it worse?” he whispered to no one.
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> What if Haruki hated him now more than ever?
What if reopening the wound only pushed him further away?
What if silence had been safer?
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That night, Ren sat at his desk and scribbled in his notebook, page after page. Letters he’d never send. Versions of the same truth, rewritten a thousand ways:
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> “I didn’t mean to break you.”
“I just wanted to be held.”
“I thought I was saving myself when I said I loved you. But maybe I was destroying us.”
“If you throw the letter away… I understand.”
“If you feel nothing… I deserve that.”
“But please… please don’t hate me.”
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He stared at the mess of ink and paper around him. His hands were stained with graphite. His heart, with fear.
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For the first time in a long time, Ren realized he wasn’t just scared of being unloved.
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He was scared of being unforgiven.
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Because if Haruki couldn’t forgive him—
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Then maybe he truly was the monster everyone whispered about.
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The next
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day, Ren sat at his desk, eyes on the door.
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And still…
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Haruki didn’t come to school.
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