Rain fell in steady lines, blurring the world into gray.
Hope stood beside the small coffin, his black clothes hanging loosely on his thin frame. His shoes were soaked through, but he didn't move.
People whispered.
Some glanced at him, then quickly looked away.
A boy shouldn't be here, Hope thought distantly.
Not like this.
His parents stood a few steps away.
Apart.
They didn't hold hands.
They didn't speak.
Hope wanted to say something.
Anything.
"I'm sorry" felt too small.
So he said nothing.
A shadow fell in front of him.
Aira knelt down.
She was shaking, but she still smiled—small and forced.
"Hey," she said softly. "You're cold."
She wrapped her scarf around his neck.
Hope finally looked at her.
"…Is he mad at me?" he asked.
Aira's smile trembled.
She pulled him into a hug.
"No," she whispered fiercely. "Never."
Hope buried his face in her coat.
For the first time since that day, he cried.
Years passed.
Hope became quiet.
Too quiet.
At school, he answered every question correctly.
At home, he answered none.
His grades were perfect. His notebooks pristine.
His parents never commented.
Never praised.
Never scolded.
It was as if he had become transparent.
In middle school, teachers called him a prodigy.
In high school, Hope stopped caring.
He skipped assignments. Slept in class. Lived inside games, comics, anime—worlds where mistakes could be reset.
No one stopped him.
Except Aira.
She knocked on his door one night.
"You didn't eat," she said.
"I'm not hungry."
She leaned against the frame. "You quit the science club."
Hope shrugged. "Got boring."
"That's a lie."
He turned his chair toward her. "I just want to live easily."
Aira frowned. "Easily?"
"Yeah," Hope said. "I want to have fun. Be happy. That's all."
She studied him for a long moment.
Then she sighed.
"…Okay."
Hope blinked. "Okay?"
She nodded. "Live how you want."
He stared at her.
"But," she added quietly, "you have to accept the consequences of your choices."
Hope smiled faintly.
"Fair."
Aira smiled back.
It didn't reach her eyes.
On the night everything ended, Hope was late.
He turned into the alley because it was faster.
Because he always took shortcuts.
Because he didn't know.
And because of that—