The sky was dark, rain droplets tapping against the rooftops, drumming softly over the houses.

A young lad walked beneath it, no umbrella, just a coat, gloves, and a mask covering most of his face. His hood was up, leaving only his nose and pale eyes visible.

He stepped through puddles along the pavement, clutching a shopping bag and staring at the ground. His steps were heavy. Slow. Like he might just stop in the middle of the street and not move again.

After a few long minutes, he reached the neighbourhood and knocked on the door of a nearby house. A younger girl answered.

“Finally! Thought you’d take ages!” she said, stepping aside to let him in.

“The queue wasn’t exactly short. What time is it anyway?” he asked, heading toward the kitchen, where an older woman was chopping vegetables.

“Last I checked it was nearly three,” she replied, pausing to look at him as he set the bag on the table. “How much did all that cost?”

“Fifty-one forty-four. The ketchup there’s mad expensive. Should’ve checked another shop instead of just grabbing it,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. His other hand trembled slightly.

“No… it’s grand. We’ll sort that another time,” the older woman said, opening the bag and taking things out.

The lad’s hand slowly steadied as the shaking faded. He let out a breath and drifted away from the kitchen toward the sitting room.

“You sure it was just the queue? You look worse than usual,” his younger sister said, walking up to him.

“Worse than usual? Wow. That’s some way to thank me for going to the shop on your day,” he said, rubbing the top of her head with one hand.

“Oi! You eejit, get off!” She grabbed his arm, trying to push him away, but failed.

He stopped messing with her and let out a yawn, heading toward the bathroom.

“You still didn’t answer me. What happened?” she followed, and he stopped in front of the mirror.

“I told you already. It was the queue,” he grumbled, staring at the dark circles under his eyes.

“You say that like you don’t trust me.”

“I do trust you. That’s why I’m telling you.”

“If you trusted me properly, you’d tell me what actually happened. It’s not like the cleaning aisle was covered in acid or something,” she said, crossing her arms.

He clenched his jaw slightly, one fist tightening as he lowered his head.

“I just… waited for the aisle to clear a bit. But more people kept coming. I waited… and waited… and waited. It just kept filling up. I had to go through it at some point, didn’t I?” He lifted his gaze again and resumed covering the bruised marks beneath his eyes with cream.

“I’ll take that excuse… this time. Even if it’s a rubbish one,” she stepped back, then noticed what he was doing. “Liuk… you’ve been up all night, haven’t you?” she asked, moving closer.

“Me? Nah— course not.”

“Yeah? ’Cause I could swear your eyes are purple. Been in a scrap I don’t know about?” she pressed.

“What do you get if either of those is true?” Liuk shot back flatly.

“God, you’re thick! I’m asking because I care! Next time I won’t even bother,” she huffed, turning away.

“You’re so dramatic. It’s not the end of the world just ’cause you won’t be poking your nose into my business,” he said, walking off to his room and locking the door.

He stared at his bedside lamp, his breathing growing heavier.

He walked slowly across the floor, watching the rain through the window. Each step felt weighted. He glanced around his room — his bed, his collection of toy cars, old childhood things — until he reached the glass.

“Hm…” he exhaled, seeing the mist gathered on it. Instead of wiping it away, he dragged a finger across it, starting to draw.

The sound of skin scraping lightly against glass was sharp, irritating — but he ignored it. With his other hand, he added another finger to help shape the lines.

The two strokes met, forming a simple heart with wings.

One of his feet began tapping against the floor, quick and restless like a rabbit’s. The fingers of his free hand twitched, bending in strange little motions.

“We can fix the emptiness in your little heart together…” he sang softly.

He pressed his palm against the glass, wiping away the drawing he’d just made, finally letting himself just watch the rain.

He stepped back and lay down on his bed, staring at the lamp again.

“The light that… one day you told me would protect me from the monsters at night. That when it went out, you’d come save me…” Liuk tried turning it on.

Nothing.

“How am I meant to fight them if it won’t turn on? And how am I supposed to fix the emptiness if you’re not here to help me?” he murmured.

He let go of the lamp cord and lay back down fully, eyes slowly closing.

A single tear slipped down the side of his face, staining the sheet beneath him.