Kyan hissed under his breath.
"Why am I even here?"
He didn't wait for an answer. No one ever gave him one anyway.
His steps were fast. His face cold.
"Anyway... I'm not important," he muttered and picked up pace.
People were laughing somewhere behind.
He got to his cabin, shut the door gently—because even now, he still didn't want to draw attention.
He stood there for a second, staring at nothing.
Then moved.
Grabbed his small duffel bag from the corner.
Pulled his drawer open. Tossed his things in.
Didn't fold anything. Didn't check twice.
Just packed like someone who didn't want to remember a damn thing.
One hoodie. His favorite socks. The ring he always wore around his neck.
Everything went in like trash.
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, his lips trembling for no reason.
He zipped the bag halfway, sat on the edge of the bed for a second.
He stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of him.
Just write it.
Just write and leave.
