Chapter 18 — The Night That Said It All
The house was utterly silent as Shinichi stepped inside.
Too quiet.
Not the comforting kind of silence, but the kind that screamed of absence.
He closed the door behind him without a sound. Slipped off his shoes. Walked through the hallway like a ghost returning to a place no longer his.
The lights were off. The air was still.
There was no one to greet him.
No warm voice.
No soft laughter.
No smell of dinner from the kitchen.
Just the echo of his own footsteps and the aching awareness that he was alone.
Utterly, completely alone.
He climbed the stairs slowly, each step heavier than the last. Entering his room, he shut the door behind him with a faint click that sounded far too final.
Like a coffin lid sealing.
The silence wrapped around him like a blanket — but not warm, not gentle.
It was heavy.
Suffocating.
Like a sea of stillness trying to drown him.
His schoolbag slid from his shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud. He didn't even look at it.
He changed numbly into his pink pajamas — the soft cotton fabric clinging to skin that felt foreign to him now.
Then he collapsed onto his futon, face-first into the pillow.
And for a while…
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't cry.
He just lay there, quiet and broken.
Thoughts swirled like a storm inside him.
Of Megumi.
Of the way her voice had softened when she said Akane's name.
Of the way her eyes had shimmered — not with doubt, but with hope.
Hope for someone who wasn't him.
And worst of all…
Riku Tsurugi's words echoed in his mind like poison carved into stone:
"You seriously think a girl like Megumi would ever want you?"
"You're a joke. No guts. No muscles. That girly face of yours — what exactly do you have going for you, huh?"
"Pathetic."
Shinichi's throat tightened.
He had wanted so badly to prove Riku wrong.
To believe he was worth something.
But now…
Megumi's confession came back to him again — not to him, never to him.
Her heart… was already reaching out.
To Akane.
Beautiful. Mysterious. Distant. Perfect.
He turned over, eyes staring at the blank ceiling above. It gave him no answers. No comfort.
Just stillness.
Riku was right, wasn't he?
Everything Shinichi had feared in the quietest corners of his soul — it had finally found proof.
It was like standing still, watching an arrow fly toward you in slow motion…
And hoping, praying, begging that it might miss.
But when it landed…
God, it hurt.
His breath caught in his throat.
And then—
The tears came.
Not all at once.
Not loud.
Not desperate.
Just quiet.
Endless.
His face pressed into the pillow as it grew damp beneath him.
Shuddering breaths.
Salt on his lips.
He didn't sob.
Didn't wail.
Didn't scream.
He unraveled silently.
Clutching the edge of the pillow like it was the only thing still holding him together.
She never saw him as a man.
Maybe she never could.
And maybe…
Maybe that was okay.
Because maybe he didn't deserve her.
Maybe he was what Riku said.
A pathetic, fragile boy in pink pajamas.
Too scared to confess.
Too weak to fight.
Too late to matter.
Even now, he couldn't bring himself to be angry.
Only… sad.
A kind of sadness that didn't just touch the heart — it swallowed it whole.
And beneath all that?
Loneliness.
Real, bitter, suffocating loneliness.
The kind you don't just feel —
You live in it.
Because no one was waiting for him downstairs.
No mother to ask him about his day.
No father to ruffle his hair.
No Grandpa to tease or laugh with.
Everyone was gone.
He was the last one left.
Alone in a house that had once been filled with life.
The shadows on the walls were his only companions.
And they didn't speak.
Didn't listen.
Didn't hold him.
The pillow soaked up his tears like a grave swallows secrets.
He wanted to stop.
To shut the feelings down.
To grow up.
To move on.
But no matter how much he told himself it didn't matter—
No matter how hard he tried to bury it—
His body refused.
Because tonight, the truth had landed.
Megumi had never been his.
And maybe…
She never would be.