Chapter 6: I Don’t Belong… And Yet, I Stay

"So, you met a girl who managed to change your mood? Damn! I'm surprised anyone got through that thick skull of yours," Aizawa exclaimed as he passed the cigarette to Ghost, a restrained chuckle in his voice.

"I wouldn't say I changed… humans don't change for anyone. Those who claim they do are just shedding old skin," Ghost replied with apathy, taking a long drag before handing it back.

"You're right," Aizawa nodded, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "But still, something's different about you today. Why are you talking to her? Come on, you're not exactly a people person—especially not with women. Hell, not even with men. You don't fit in with anyone, not even your own species."

"Obviously. I don't fit in because I'm an alien from Andromeda sent to study your absurd customs," Ghost quipped, his signature sarcasm cutting sharp. "Men are dangerous to the body. Women, to the mind. Who'd want to get infected either way?"

"And yet here you are, with me, sharing a cigarette without those gloves you used to claim you needed to deal with humans. That woman must be something else—got your emotions in line without even touching you," Aizawa said with a half-smile.

Ghost didn't answer. He just smirked, his expression somewhere between mockery and a dangerous kind of honesty.

"Answer my question or I'll be forced to psychoanalyze you," Aizawa muttered as he stubbed the cigarette into the tin ashtray with more force than necessary.

"Something about her reminds me of me," Ghost said softly, dragging the words out with a trace of nostalgia. "Simple… but fragile, like a diamond on the verge of breaking, just because the world insists on calling her a worthless stone."

Aizawa offered him another cigarette—this time with a gesture that felt less automatic, almost gentle.

"You shouldn't pity those who are still standing, even if they tremble," he murmured.

Ghost looked at him. He knew those words—they were his own, from years ago, when Aizawa had found him broken, with nowhere left to go.

"Changing the subject… the day's coming. Want me to go with you?"

"No, I'll be fine on my own. You've done enough for me, Aizawa."

"You can fool the world out there, but not me," Aizawa said firmly. "Besides, it gives me an excuse to skip work. Come on, you're doing me a favor!"

They both laughed sincerely, like old soldiers sharing a trench. And in that haze of smoke and sarcasm, their quiet bond revealed itself—no words needed.

"Coincidences always watch from the corners of the broken."

"Ashley! Ash… girl!" Mirabel's voice broke the mental fog Ashley had sunk into.

"Huh? Ah! Sorry, Miss Mirabel… I got a little lost," Ashley answered with a nervous smile.

"A little? You were floating completely! But it's not your usual kind of distraction. Today you don't seem anxious… you seem happy. Is there someone out there shaking up your world?"

Ashley lowered her gaze, a shy smile betraying her attempt to hide it.

"Someone? No… it's not that," she stammered.

"Aha! I knew it! Nailed it—or should I say, your heart!" the therapist exclaimed playfully. "Look, I know I usually ask you to talk about your trauma, your urge to jump through time or run from memories… but today, I want to hear about you. About your present. What's making you smile like that?"

"Nothing special's happened… the usual. Home, responsibilities, university… projects, assignments…"

Mirabel didn't press her. She knew when a patient wasn't ready to talk—and pushing open the doors of the heart too soon usually slams them shut.

"Just promise me you'll live in the moment, Ashley. Don't suppress it. Don't turn happiness into a memory just because you're afraid to lose it. Let it flow. Even if it's just for today."

Ashley nodded slowly. Her thoughts, however, were already elsewhere.

As she stepped out of the office, a soft bump against an unexpected body snapped her out of her reverie. It was Ghost—or rather, Gustavo—rushing like a bat out of hell.

"Sorry! I wasn't looking! Hope you're okay!" he shouted, already hopping back on his motorbike and vanishing as quickly as he had appeared.

Ashley froze. Not because of the impact… but because he hadn't recognized her. Not a word. As if everything they'd lived had been a scene imagined. The smile she'd been wearing slowly faded.

"Hey, asshole! You left your jacket, you damn exhibitionist!" Aizawa shouted from the doorway. "Damn kids… such a headache," he muttered, lighting another cigarette.

Ashley turned around.

"Ghost?"

"Yeah, that's what his friends call him… but… wait, you… do you have paint on your face?"

Aizawa's eyes narrowed as he looked at her more closely.

"You know him?"

"I know his brother… we go to the same school. I've seen him a couple times."

"Interesting… Ghost showed up today covered in paint. And now you're painted too. Coincidence, or fate. Anyway…"

Aizawa grabbed Ghost's jacket, held it for a moment.

"Would you mind taking this to him? I'd rather not throw it out. And I doubt he's coming back."

"Me?"

"Come on, girl. I'll buy you a coffee. It's just a jacket."

Ashley hesitated. The idea of being near Ghost made her dizzy. But curiosity was stronger. She took the jacket.

From the doorway, Aizawa watched her walk away, and a sly smile curved his lips.

Everything was going according to plan.