Chapter 5 — Where Shadows Whisper
It was as if February itself had risen from its slumber to greet the forest in a breath of white silence, cloaking the entire town in a shroud of snow so pale it felt like a ghost pressing against the windows of the world. My steps, heavy and deliberate, dragged through the frozen earth, each one echoing louder than the last. The cold bit through my coat, through my skin, straight into bone—but there was something small, something delicate in my chest, a flicker of warmth like a whispered invitation that pulled me forward, faster, faster still. And despite the season's icy grip, our bond—mine and his—had grown warmer, richer, like tea steeped too long in silence.
Only a street separated me from the house and the duty I had to fulfill. Yet the park beside our building, which once felt like a brief breath of space, had twisted, lengthened—as though the trees themselves had conspired to stretch the walk and slow my pace. The path I had walked countless times before had become unfamiliar, impossibly endless, splintering into unseen directions like east and west had forgotten where they belonged. The sounds of cars on the nearby road had begun to fade—no engines, no horns—only the quiet crunch of my boots and the slow unraveling of thought.
"What if they're not home? Is it okay to go? Mom told me to give this to Mrs. Kiyoka, but still… what if—what if I see Souh, too?"
My mind flickered like a faulty bulb, anxiety and hope swirling together in a fever of contradiction. My head ached from it—heat and cold, doubt and longing.
Finally, the street gave way to a trail, where the snow grew deeper and the forest swallowed the horizon. "It's beautiful…" I whispered, though the trees did not answer. Their tall, dark figures stood like ancient watchers, stretching their limbs into the overcast sky, casting strange shadows that bled into one another and turned the earth below them to dusk, though the sun had not yet set. And at the very end of the path, I saw it—our destination, my purpose: a wooden house, large but silent, one-room wide, cloaked in brown and shadow. Three chairs rested outside the door like forgotten sentinels.
I hesitated.
My hands, numbed by frost, touched the cold glass barrier of the gate. Inside, the hearth glowed orange, flames dancing in the living room where the table was already set for dinner. They were home. That alone gave me reason to press forward. I stepped closer, raised my hand, and knocked—soft at first, then harder. The sound rang out like a hollow warning.
The door creaked open.
And there he stood.
With a smile sharp enough to break the cold and eyes that glimmered like they remembered me. "Looks like Kai-chan can't even go one day without seeing me, huh?" he teased, that mischievous tone rising with the arch of his brow. My face flushed.
"Don't be stupid. I just… came to give this. It's from my mom. For Mrs. Kiyoka."
"Oh?" He leaned against the doorframe, lazy and amused. "Too bad. She went out with Sia. Won't be back for another hour. You could wait outside... if you want to freeze."
There was something too satisfied in his tone. So I gave him what he wanted—playful resistance. I turned back toward the forest, letting my steps crunch into the snow once more. Let him chase me.
In the back of my mind, I still found it strange—he called his mother by her name. Kiyoka. Like she was distant, or not quite his.
Then it came.
A snowball, white and sharp, struck my head and exploded into icy mist. I gasped, cold slipping beneath my collar.
"Kai, seriously?" Souh's voice rang out in exasperated amusement. "You know you can come in, right? You're still just as dumb as you were last month." His laughter echoed through the trees like a bell in fog.
I dropped the package in the snow and lunged at him, knocking him backward with a grin. We wrestled in the yard, until exhaustion turned our limbs soft. Finally, we collapsed on the bed in his room, tangled in silence.
His bed rested against the western wall, just above the bathroom. A small window flickered beside the edge of the mattress, and a tall mirror near the exit reflected our tired shapes. Laughter had painted the air a soft color… but slowly, as our breaths slowed, sleep overtook us, and shadows returned.
And still, I wondered.
That smile—was it the real him? Or the other one—the one who had kept his distance five times this month? The one who seemed afraid to be close?
Night crept in.
Something pulled me from sleep—a pain in my arm, sharp and cold. My eyes snapped open. Someone was gripping my wrist. Hard. And a sound—soft, broken—was echoing beside me.
Souh.
He was burning in sweat, whispering something under his breath, eyes clenched shut. I shook him hard, cupped his face in my hands.
"Souh!"
He gasped awake. One tear slid from his eye, and he caught it fast, brushing it away like it hadn't existed. When I asked what was wrong, his face closed up. The warmth vanished.
"Just go back to sleep."
Anger. Or pain. Or both.
I didn't move.
Instead, I pulled him close and whispered, "You don't have to say anything. You can apologize tomorrow if you want, but for now… just sleep."
He didn't answer, but he didn't pull away.
That question stayed tangled in my chest: Why?
Morning.
Light sliced through the edges of the curtain. I wasn't in my own room. I wasn't alone. And Souh's hand, wrapped around mine, was warm.
I sat up slowly. Watched him sleep.
His face was soft now, no tension, no fear—so different from the way he had looked in the dark. I smiled without meaning to. But as if summoned by the sound, he groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.
"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep."
I laughed, and without mercy, shoved him off the bed.
Somehow, tormenting him like that still made me shy.
Later, I saw Kiyoka and Sia eating breakfast in the living room. I handed her the package. "Kai-chan," she said, smiling, "you've grown a lot in the past month."
My ears burned. But her next words froze me:
"I see you and Souh are getting along. Be good to him, okay? This is the first time he's ever invited someone into his room."
First time?
But… Souh was always surrounded by people. Everyone liked him. So why—?
"I will," I answered, confused, and left the house after saying goodbye. I wanted to go to school with Souh, but I had to check in at home. My mom wasn't pleased. She scolded me for not letting her know I stayed over, and I apologized before rushing to get ready.
All morning, I couldn't stop thinking about Souh. That night. That dream.
Was he really okay?
After class, I waited at our usual spot near the school gate. But he wasn't there. Again. The same as before. Still, I waited.
Eventually, he came, but something was different.
He didn't smile like he meant it. And his eyes… they were watching something across the street—a black luxury car parked beneath the trees. His face darkened, shadows gathering along his jaw.
"I think I'll go alone today. Sorry, Kai-chan. I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow."
I nodded, even though it stung. "It's okay… See you."
But something didn't feel right. Something gnawed at me. And that feeling stayed, long after I got home. Long into the night.
The next day, I got to school earlier than usual. I checked his class. Empty. Even the rooftop—his quiet place—was abandoned. Didn't he come to school?
When class started, my body went, but my mind didn't follow.
After school, I ran to his house again.
"Souh went on a trip," Mrs. Kiyoka said.
"When will he be back?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
Something inside me cracked. Glass-thin.
Even Sia wouldn't speak.
No goodbye. No trace.
He had vanished.
Like mist from a mirror.
And I couldn't stop asking myself…
Why?
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