Kaito's fingers fumbled as he buttoned his shirt. His reflection trembled slightly in the mirror, not from fear—but from exhaustion. The tea had helped, and so had the quiet, but his body still throbbed with the memory of cold and bruises, and his heart hadn't settled.
He hadn't expected the group presentation. No one had.
The teacher walked into class with a bright, too-cheerful tone and announced it like a game.
"Today, group literature presentations! Random assignments. Surprise, darlings."
Kaito's name was read aloud. His group: three boys from the back row.
The same ones who laughed when soup spilled on him. The same ones who called him "charity case" behind cupped palms.
He didn't look up. Didn't flinch.
But from across the room, Ren's brow furrowed.
Because this time—
He heard something.
Not with his ears. Not really. More like a whisper against his thoughts:
"I hope they don't break my fingers today… I need them to type…"
He stilled. Looked around. But no one had spoken.
The class went on, oblivious.
--
The boys gave Kaito the worst topic—obscure sonnets. Told him to make slides. Told him he'd better not mess it up.
He nodded. Didn't argue.
He stayed up all night typing. He didn't sleep. Toty sat on his pillow while he organized lines, translated meaning, and formatted footnotes.
By morning, he could barely keep his eyes open.
---
The Presentation
"Group Six," the teacher called. "You're up."
Kaito stood slowly, clutching a flash drive.
He walked toward the front. The three boys followed, smirking. One bumped his shoulder hard.
He plugged in the drive. Clicked.
Nothing loaded.
The folder was… empty.
His heart stopped.
His hands trembled. He opened every subfolder. Every file. Gone.
He turned slightly to the group.
One of them shrugged. "Guess our slide fairy failed."
Another laughed. "He's got the speech, though. Go on, mute prince. Perform."
The classroom chuckled. Not loud. Just enough.
Kaito turned to face the class.
His throat tightened.
Everyone was staring.
Don't shake. Don't cry. Don't run.
His lips parted.
No words came.
And in the silence, Azel heard it. Clear as if it were said aloud:
"They'll laugh. They'll hate me. I knew it. I always ruin things. I want to disappear. Please, someone stop them…"
His hand clenched into a fist.
Ren stood up.
"He did all the work."
Everyone turned.
Ren's voice was quiet, razor-sharp.
"They deleted the files. We all saw him typing last night. Check the edit history."
The room froze.
Azel stood, slow, lazy-smooth. But his eyes glinted with fury.
"Yeah," he drawled. "Go ahead, teach. Click 'view history.' It's right there. Unless you enjoy rewarding rats."
The teacher blinked, startled. "Enough. Sit down, all of you. I'll handle this."
It was clear. Kaito's name filled the version logs. The others had deleted it an hour before class.
They were issued written warnings.
Kaito sat frozen in the hallway chair, staring at the floor.
Ren leaned against the wall beside him.
He wasn't looking at him—but he didn't leave either.
And then, just for a second, he heard it again:
"Why did they defend me? I froze. I failed. But they… stood there. Are they angry? Are they… disappointed?"
Ren closed his eyes.
He didn't know how he was hearing it.
But he knew it was real.
Azel paced like a storm trapped in a bottle.
"Why didn't you say something?" he snapped. "You let them humiliate you. You just stood there."
Kaito sat on his bed, curled around Toty, still in his hoodie. The hood was up.
He didn't look up. Didn't speak.
But his thoughts… bled into the air.
"If I speak, it'll come out wrong. If I cry, they'll mock me. If I look at Azel, he'll leave too…"
Azel flinched. Visibly.
Ren, from his desk, murmured, "He doesn't need to shout. We just need to listen better."
Azel turned, glaring—but only for a second.
He sighed. Grabbed the blanket off his bed. Threw it at Kaito's lap.
"Wrap up properly, dumb bunny. You're not indestructible."
Kaito blinked.
Then nodded. Once.
---
Later That Night,Kaito curled into his blanket, Toty under his chin. His thoughts were heavy, slow, aching.
"I want to be small enough to stay. Quiet enough to be safe. But today… they didn't leave. They stayed. Why…?"
Across the room, Azel stared at the ceiling.
Ren's laptop was still open, but he hadn't typed in ten minutes.
The thoughts drifted, soft as fog. They didn't understand it—but neither wanted it to stop.
Kaito whispered to Toty:
"Please… let them keep hearing me."
And for once, silence didn't mean being alone.