*****
The darkness was thick, a suffocating void pressing down on him. He tried to move, but his feet felt rooted to the ground, his body frozen. Shadows danced around him, vague figures with blurred faces, whispering words he couldn't quite catch. There was a weight on his chest, a familiar heaviness that he couldn't shake.
A soft, mocking laugh echoed from the darkness, growing louder and louder until it turned into the voices of his old classmates, accusing him. The words cut through him, sharp and biting, each one twisting the knife of guilt and shame he'd carried for so long. He could hear them accusing him of pushing his childhood friend, their voices blending into a relentless chant of blame.
"Why would you do something like that?" a voice asked, and he turned, recognizing his father's silhouette standing in the shadows. The figure's gaze bore into him with disappointment and anger, an expression he'd seen too many times. Without warning, his father raised his hand, and Akihiko felt the sting of the slap, sharp and burning, echoing with a sense of betrayal he'd never forgotten.
He wanted to scream, to explain, but his voice was gone, choked by the feeling of abandonment. He turned, hoping to find someone, anyone, who might believe him. But instead, he saw Tatsuya, his former best friend. The boy's face was blank, but his mouth twisted into a smirk as he whispered words of betrayal, the rumors that had spiraled out of control because of him.
"Akihiko," Tatsuya sneered. "Did you really think I would stand by you?"
The words echoed around him, each one slicing deeper, leaving him exposed and raw. He tried to step back, to escape, but the shadows closed in, enveloping him, suffocating him. The faces of everyone who had turned their backs on him crowded his vision, pressing closer and closer until he couldn't breathe.
Suddenly, everything went silent, the voices stopping abruptly. A strange, distant light appeared, and Akihiko's gaze was drawn to it. In the light, he saw a figure—unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting. The figure was cloaked, its face hidden, but he felt a calmness radiate from it, almost like it was reaching out to him. A soft, gentle voice drifted through the silence, a voice that sounded both ancient and understanding.
"Do you wish for an escape?" it asked.
The question hung in the air, a lifeline in the darkness. Akihiko wanted to respond, to reach out to this mysterious presence. But as he extended his hand, the shadows tightened around him, dragging him down, deeper and deeper into the void, pulling him away from the light.
He awoke with a start, his heart pounding, his body drenched in sweat. For a moment, he could still hear the accusing voices echoing in his mind, feel the sting of his father's slap, see Tatsuya's smirk. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the remnants of the dream clung to him, a reminder of the betrayal and pain he could never truly escape.
*****
"Not again!" I mutter under my breath, chest heaving as I sit up, running a shaky hand over my face. Why now? Of all the times, why would that dream resurface now, when things were finally...quiet? It's been a long time since I last had it, but somehow, the memory still feels raw, like it happened yesterday. I take a deep breath, telling myself it's just a nightmare, just shadows from a past. I try to let the numbness settle back in, but the cold bite of those memories lingers, leaving me feeling hollow.
"Well," I say quietly to myself, "not every day can be a feast, huh?"
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and push myself up, the cold floor grounding me, pulling me back into the present. Enough. No sense letting a dream get under my skin. I head to the bathroom, splash my face with cold water, and let the icy chill chase away the last fragments of the nightmare. The reflection staring back at me looks tired, maybe a little haunted, but I ignore it. Another day to push through. Same routine, same numbness. At least that's predictable.
I grab my running shoes, tying the laces with focused precision. Running always clears my head, gives me something to concentrate on, something other than the memories trying to drag me down. I step outside, feeling the crisp morning air bite at my skin. The same path I always take stretches ahead of me, familiar and quiet. I take a deep breath, inhaling the stillness of the morning. But somehow, as I start down the path, it feels different today—darker, maybe, or maybe it's just me, carrying that lingering feeling from the dream.
Each step hits the ground with a steady rhythm, the sound echoing in the silence around me. I push myself forward, faster, harder, hoping to leave everything behind in the wake of my own footsteps. The trees, the buildings, the faint glimmers of morning light—everything blurs together as I focus on nothing but the pace, the breath, the motion.
When I finish my run, my legs feel heavy, but it’s a satisfying ache. I slow my pace as I near the apartment, sweat cooling against my skin as the morning sun starts to creep higher in the sky. Back in my room, I grab a towel and head to the bathroom to freshen up. The cold water against my face is a welcome relief, washing away the lingering traces of the dream
Back in my room, I grab a towel and head to the bathroom to freshen up. The cold water against my face shocks me awake, chasing away the last traces of the dream. I stare into the mirror briefly, noticing my damp hair sticking to my forehead and the slight flush on my cheeks from the run. Nothing unusual, nothing worth lingering on. With a shrug, I towel off, take a quick shower, and change into a simple outfit—a plain grey shirt and dark jeans. It’s practical and comfortable.
I glance at the clock. It’s Sunday, and there’s no school or work to keep me locked in. Staying inside feels suffocating after the dream, so I decide to head out for a while. I grab my wallet, phone, and keys before stepping into the fresh air. The streets are livelier now, the city waking up as families stroll by, couples chat on sidewalks, and shopkeepers open their doors.
As I walk, I can’t shake the feeling of being…watched. It starts subtly—a few people glancing in my direction as they pass. I assume it’s nothing at first, but the stares seem to grow more frequent. A pair of girls across the street pause mid-conversation, their eyes darting toward me before quickly looking away, whispering to each other. A man sitting on a bench looks up from his phone, his gaze lingering longer than it should. Even a child tugging on their mother’s sleeve points at me, prompting her to give a brief glance and a small smile before turning away.
I feel a slight unease crawl up my spine. Is something wrong? Do I have something on my face? I casually glance down at my clothes, wondering if I spilled water earlier or forgot to fix something. Everything looks fine—normal, even. I quicken my pace slightly, hoping to shake the feeling, but it doesn’t fade. More eyes seem to follow me, some subtle, others lingering longer than I’d like.
Why are they looking at me? It doesn’t make sense. I try to ignore it, focusing instead on my path, but the unease lingers. For a moment, I debate turning back, but that would feel like running away, and I’ve had enough of that.
Shaking my head, I press on. Maybe I’m overthinking it. People look at others all the time, don’t they? It’s probably nothing. Still, the confusion nags at me, hanging heavy in the back of my mind. "What should I have for dinner today?" I thought to myself as I continue to walk.
*** People's reaction***
The streets are bustling with weekend life, and as Akihiko walks, the reactions around him become more apparent. A young woman exiting a café pauses mid-step, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly looks away, cheeks tinged pink. A group of teenagers sitting on a bench nearby begins to whisper and giggle, one of them nudging the other with a not-so-subtle gesture in Akihiko's direction.
“Who is that? He’s gorgeous!” one of them whispers loudly enough for it to carry, though Akihiko, lost in thought, doesn’t catch it.
A middle-aged man walking his dog gives him a brief glance, followed by a polite nod, though his expression betrays a flicker of surprise. Even the cashier at a nearby convenience store, stacking shelves by the window, does a double take as he passes, craning her neck to get another look.
Further down the street, an elderly woman selling flowers smiles warmly at him. “Such a handsome young man,” she murmurs to herself, adjusting her wares. A mother and her child walking by stop for a moment as the child tugs on her sleeve.
“Mom, is he a celebrity?” the child asks innocently, pointing at Akihiko.
The mother hushes them quickly but steals a glance herself, her lips curving into a small, amused smile. “No, just a very striking young man,” she says softly, though Akihiko is too far to hear.
At a nearby park, a group of joggers crossing his path slow down instinctively, exchanging glances with one another as he approaches. One of them, clearly bolder, offers a quick smile and a small wave. Akihiko, oblivious to the intent, nods back politely but keeps moving, his thoughts elsewhere.
The attention only seems to intensify as he walks on. A delivery cyclist almost veers off course, distracted by him. A barista from an outdoor café glances over, spilling a bit of coffee as they lean too far to catch another glimpse.
For most people, such reactions might bring pride or amusement, but Akihiko doesn’t register the meaning behind them. To him, it’s just noise in the background—people acting unusually, maybe even rudely, for reasons he can’t understand. Why do people keep looking at me like this? he wonders, a flicker of unease crossing his mind. He resists the urge to check his reflection in a nearby glass window again, convincing himself it’s nothing.
Unbothered but confused, he continues walking, unwittingly leaving a trail of lingering gazes and hushed whispers in his wake.
*****
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