That night, the moon hung low in the sky, as if holding its breath. Inside the quiet room, Kael lay stiffly on the bed. The dim bedside light brushed against the pale curve of his face, casting shadows beneath trembling lashes pressed tightly shut—but his mind was far from still.
His hands clutched the blanket over his small frame, as if it were the only shield he had against the waves of restlessness that came without warning.
"I… I didn't want to hurt her," he whispered, barely audible, as if speaking to the darkness itself. His voice cracked, suspended in the cold air. "Then why… why does she keep coming closer…?"
A tightness gnawed at his chest. His thoughts spiraled. Guilt lingered in the silence, but suspicion refused to leave. Every time he closed his eyes, Raeya's face returned—her sad gaze, her sobs, ones he had never heard before. Tears he should never have caused.
"I don't get it…" He covered his face with both hands. "I pushed her away. I was mean… But she stayed. She still… wants to be near me."
Silence. Just the ticking of the clock and the uneven rhythm of his breath.
"What if I trust her… and she leaves too? What if it's all just temporary? What if I'm wrong again?" he murmured, his voice thin and fragile. "I… I don't think I can survive breaking all over again."
He hugged himself.
"I just want peace… but why does it scare me more than anything?"
And in the shadows of old wounds that hadn't yet healed, he wondered quietly—
Was there still light beyond all this?
✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:
Day One: The Comfort of Distance
That morning felt different.
Though it was the weekend—a time for rest—Raeya arrived at the hospital earlier than anyone else. But this time, she didn't go straight into the room.
She just sat at the doorway, hugging her knees close to her chest. Her breath was steady, quiet. Her eyes settled on the small figure lying still across the room.
No greetings. No soft calls like before. Just presence—quiet, patient. A silent message whispered between the spaces of stillness: I'm here, if you want to know.
Kael didn't move. His body remained turned away, facing the wall. But behind his tightly shut eyelids, a pair of eyes peeked open just a sliver—just enough to glimpse the girl sitting at the threshold.
He watched her… quietly.
Raeya stayed. She didn't say a word. Didn't try to get closer. She just watched in silence, gaze gentle but no longer demanding. She waited—not for him to speak, but perhaps only to remind him: You're not alone.
Time passed without a sound. About an hour later, Raeya slowly stood up. She patted her legs, took a soft breath, and walked away without a word. Her steps were light, leaving no trace—but deep enough to leave something behind in someone's heart.
Kael stared at the now-empty doorway. Still silent, still pretending to sleep.
But for the first time that morning…
he felt a little warmer.
.・゜゜・
Day Two: A Whisper in Sleep
Night fell gently, carrying a breeze that rustled the curtains. The soft glow of the lamp in the corner pushed back the darkness just enough to let peace stay undisturbed.
Kael was curled beneath his hospital blanket, fast asleep. His breathing was calm… yet still held traces of unease.
The door creaked open without a sound.
Raeya stepped in quietly, a small navy blue blanket clutched in her arms. Her steps were feather-light, as if afraid of waking someone's dream. She moved slowly to the side of the bed, then stopped there.
With care, she placed the blanket at the foot of the bed. Then, she stood in silence, watching Kael's sleeping face.
"Kael…" she whispered, her voice barely rising above the whisper of wind from the window. "I don't know what you've been through. But you're not alone anymore."
"I'll protect you… You're safe now."
There was no reply. But Kael's eyelids shifted slightly, a faint flicker under his lashes. His fingers, once curled tight, twitched faintly. He didn't wake—but it was as if he heard her.
Somewhere in the quiet corners of his sleep, Raeya's voice slipped in—soft like a whisper from another world. Whether it was real, or just part of a dream, for the first time, the dream wasn't dark.
༶•┈┈⛧┈♛
Day Three: A Small Drawing on the Table
That morning, sunlight slipped gently through the blinds, dancing across the calm white walls. The room was quiet, with only the beep of machines and the ticking of the clock as company.
Kael opened his eyes slowly. For a moment, he just stared at the ceiling. But then, something on the table beside his bed caught his attention.
A drawing.
The paper was filled with color—simple crayon lines, childlike, but full of life. In the center were two small figures: a girl with long hair he recognized as Raeya, and a boy with deep blue eyes—himself. They were laughing together beneath a large tree, hands outstretched as if mid-chase.
Below the picture, a small handwritten note, tilted and clumsy but filled with sincerity:
"I still want to be your friend, even if you're not ready yet."
Kael stared at it for a long time, unblinking.
His hand reached out slowly, hesitantly. His fingertips brushed the edge of the paper, held it for a moment. An odd urge rose in his chest—to tear it apart, to throw it away.
But his fingers loosened.
He let his hand fall. The drawing stayed where it was.
He turned his face toward the window, away from the picture—
as if it didn't matter.
♛┈⛧┈┈•༶
Day Four: A Voice at the Door
That afternoon, the hospital room was bathed in golden light. Warm sunlight filtered through the window, casting gentle lines on the white floor.
Kael sat still on the bed, shoulders slightly hunched. His body was weak, but his eyes were fixed on the tightly closed door. He could hear footsteps—soft, hesitant—then a pause at the doorway.
Silence.
Then came the voice.
"I know you're scared," Raeya's voice floated in from behind the door, soft but steady. "But I'm not here to hurt you. I just want… to be someone you can trust. Not your enemy."
No answer.
Kael kept his gaze on the floor, as if searching for something between the tiles. His fingers clenched tightly in his lap.
But… there was something different in his eyes. Subtle. Barely there. Almost invisible.
For the first time, the word trust didn't sound like a threat.
Not a door that needed to be shut.
He didn't respond. But deep inside, something stirred.
Something long frozen…
was starting to thaw.
✧༺♥༻✧
Day Five: Toast and a Fractured Smile
That evening, Raeya arrived earlier than usual, carrying a plate of warm toast freshly out of the oven. The faint scent of butter and cinnamon sugar lingered in the air as she gently pushed open the door.
Her steps faltered.
Kael didn't turn around.
The boy sat leaning against the bed, eyes fixed on the window, unmoving and silent.
But… he didn't push her away.
No shouting. No resistance.
Raeya's heart clenched. Not out of fear… but surprise. And something else—something tender.
Her hands, still holding the plate, nearly trembled.
He didn't look at her.
But he stayed.
Raeya held her breath. Her heart thudded slowly—but firmly. Carefully, she stepped forward and placed the small plate on the bedside table—her movement soft, as though afraid to disturb something fragile.
Then she quickly stepped back and sat on the sofa a short distance away. Her hands clutched her knees, her chest tight with a wave of emotion she hadn't seen coming.
Inside her heart, a small voice whispered:
He let me be here.
And that alone was enough to make her eyes brim with tears.
Kael said nothing, but watched quietly.
Still silent, Kael slowly let his gaze drop to the plate. Steam still rose from the toast, dancing gently in the air.
He hesitated. For a long while.
But finally, with small, slightly trembling hands, he picked up a piece and took a bite.
Warm. Soft. Strange—like the taste was filling a hollow space that had been left open for far too long.
Raeya didn't look at him, but spoke softly, her voice barely a whisper,
"You can eat… if you want. I just… didn't want you to be hungry."
Kael turned his head slightly, stealing a glance at her from across the room. There was something in her eyes—not pity, not pressure.
Just… a quiet kind of kindness. Honest and unadorned.
He took another bite.
His eyes stung. He didn't understand why.
But it felt like something broken inside him had started to grow again—slowly.
✿❀ ❀✿
Day Six: A Mirror of the Self
The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the floor.
Raeya sat by the window, flipping through a sketchbook she'd brought from home. Every now and then, she glanced at Kael, but didn't want to disturb the fragile silence that had lasted since morning.
Then suddenly—
In a voice so hoarse and low it was almost inaudible—Kael spoke for the first time.
"…Why do you… keep coming back?"
Raeya flinched slightly.
The book in her hands nearly slipped as she turned toward him.
On the bed, Kael sat upright, staring straight ahead. His face was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes trembled, like a still lake just touched by a stone.
"I… I could hurt you again," he said. Quiet. But honest.
Raeya rose gently, approaching him the way one would approach a wounded animal—carefully, tenderly.
She stopped at a respectful distance, not wanting to force anything.
"Maybe you could," she said softly. "Maybe you will. But… I don't believe that's who you really are."
Kael bit his lip. His head dipped slightly. Guilt and fear collided inside him, tangling into a knot he didn't know how to undo.
Raeya lowered herself a little, her voice steady despite its gentleness.
"I used to be afraid too, Kael. I used to think everyone would leave… and that I didn't matter to anyone. But I held on… because someone once believed in me."
She lifted her gaze, meeting his with eyes that didn't hide either her pain or her hope.
"And now… I want to be that person. For you."
Silence.
For a moment, the air felt like it had stopped moving.
Kael didn't reply. But his shoulders loosened slightly—as if the weight he carried, if only for a second, had grown a little lighter.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
And just like that…
the days kept turning.
They never quite noticed
when the distance that once stood as a silent wall between them
began to change into something else.
Not a hug,
not a word,
but a small bridge—quiet and fragile—
yet just strong enough
to carry a first step.
A step toward something
neither of them fully understood…
But had slowly begun to feel.