Saint Lirius Academy woke like a beast.
Doors slammed open, water pipes hissed awake, boys shouted across hallways, and music blared from someone's speaker down the corridor. The dormitory swelled with the chaotic rhythm of morning, full of laughter, chatter, and arguments over who stole whose socks.
But in Room B-17, there was only quiet.
Kaito had already woken. He always did—an hour before the alarms, before anyone could see him shuffle quietly into the washroom, clutching a change of uniform, sleeves folded neatly over one arm.
He didn't want them to see the bruises.
Ren and Azel were still asleep. Ren with his back to the room, facing the wall, his breathing even and controlled. Azel sprawled diagonally across his bed, one leg dangling off the side, snoring faintly, hair a mess of reddish curls across his pillow.
Kaito changed silently. High-collared shirt. Full-sleeved blazer. Dark trousers. Even socks that stretched up past the knee. His limbs ached slightly as he pulled the fabric over them—faint welts blooming dull purple beneath cotton.
His reflection in the mirror blinked back at him as he adjusted the collar. Pale, delicate, ghost-like. He looked less like a student and more like a painting—a thing someone hung on the wall to admire but never touch. His eyes were silvery-blue, large, framed by impossibly long lashes that curled toward his cheeks. His lips were faintly pink, like they'd been colored in with watercolor. He didn't smile. He rarely did anymore.
Toty—his plush bunny—sat propped on his pillow, watching.
Kaito pressed a soft kiss to its head and whispered, "Stay safe."
No one saw him leave the room.
---
The classroom filled quickly, voices bouncing off walls, laughter laced with arrogance and energy. The usual buzz of students finding their seats, half-joking, half-wrestling each other for pens or seats by the window.
Kaito sat in the very last row. His seat. Always the last.
He settled in quietly, placing his notebook down, pen poised as though ready to absorb every word of the lesson. But already, his head was fogging.
Too loud.
He pressed his palm lightly to his temple. A headache had started earlier in the morning, dull and gnawing. It wasn't just the light from the ceiling or the noise of chairs scraping the floor. It was the way his ribs ached every time he adjusted in his seat. The way his shoulder throbbed when he moved his pen. His body was a patchwork of quiet pain.
His beauty did not go unnoticed.
From the front row, a girl with braids leaned over and whispered to her friend.
"He looks like he walked out of a painting. Does he even blink?"
Her friend snorted. "Please. What's the point of being that pretty if you never talk? He just sits there like he wants to be tragic."
Kaito didn't respond. He was used to this. Admiration wrapped in mockery. People were always confused by him—was he a fantasy or a fraud? Was his silence mystical, or maddening?
A boy behind him flicked a paper toward his desk. It landed on his notebook. Kaito didn't look at it.
Still mute, dollface? it said.
He folded it, tucked it under his sleeve.
My head hurts. Maybe if I sit still enough, they'll forget I exist today.
The teacher began the lesson.
Something about old poetry—a passage from Tennyson. Words floated through the room like autumn leaves:
"Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair—"
Why do the words feel like they sting?
Kaito blinked slowly, trying to focus on the board. His vision swam.
He didn't notice the eyes that lingered on him from across the room. A student with a half-bitten pencil stared at him not with admiration, but envy. Why did someone who never smiled still command so much attention? Why did Ren and Azel dorm with him and not someone more normal?
"He probably thinks he's better than us just because he's cute," someone muttered.
Kaito's head drooped slightly.
I should've stayed in bed. Toty... remind me not to breathe too deep. My side's starting to burn again.
---
Lunchtime arrived with thunderous footsteps down the marble hall. Students gathered in packs, crowding the canteen, loud and hungry. Kaito entered through the side door. He always did.
The aroma of food twisted his stomach. He hadn't eaten much yesterday. He never really had an appetite anymore.
He picked a roll of bread and a small bowl of soup. He didn't want it. But carrying a tray made him blend in.
He took his seat by the farthest window. The sunlight filtered in, casting a gentle halo around his head, softening his features. From afar, he looked celestial—skin glowing pale gold, hair catching the light in shades of chestnut and honey.
A girl two tables down stared.
"He's unreal."
Her friend scoffed. "He's just pretending. Look at him. He doesn't even eat. Probably thinks starving makes him prettier."
From a nearby group of boys:
"I tried talking to him once. Nothing. Just blinks at you like a doll. Thinks he's too good for words."
Another laughed. "Bet he doesn't even need to talk. He just pouts and everyone melts."
Still, someone else muttered under their breath, with something that sounded like confusion or guilt:
"Why does he look like he's about to cry?"
Kaito lifted the spoon. His fingers trembled.
One bite. Just pretend. If I faint, they'll laugh harder.
The soup was lukewarm, flavorless.
He chewed the bread slowly, each movement hurting his jaw.
From the center of the canteen, Ren sat surrounded by classmates. Top ranks. Scholars. Calm, refined energy.
Azel sat nearby, laughing loudly, throwing fries at someone across the table.
They didn't look his way.
That's good. Don't notice me today. I can't smile properly today.
---
The dorm was quieter in the evening.
Kaito entered without a sound, closing the door behind him like a whisper. Ren was seated at his desk, flipping through a book. Azel was lying upside-down on his bed, phone in hand.
Toty sat where he'd left him. Safe.
Kaito exhaled softly.
"Back already, Cotton Ball?" Azel grinned without looking up.
Kaito froze mid-step.
His hands tightened on his bag. Not from fear. Not from pain. But from that old reflex of expecting cruelty.
Azel tossed a pillow in his direction. "You look like you saw a ghost. Relax. It's me."
Kaito gave a tiny nod, scurried to his side of the room.
Ren looked up.
Just for a second.
Kaito bent to put his books down. His sleeve slipped a little.
A glimpse of skin—purple, faintly yellowing at the edges. A bruise wrapped like a band around his wrist.
Ren's eyes narrowed for just a heartbeat. He said nothing.
Azel caught it too. His body stiffened slightly. He turned back toward his phone but didn't scroll anymore.
Kaito tugged his sleeve back down.
Please don't ask. Please don't notice. If you say something, I won't know how to lie again.
---
That night, the wind howled softly outside. Rain tapped against the glass like fingers searching for warmth.
Kaito lay curled in bed, Toty pressed tight to his chest. The blanket wrapped around him wasn't enough. His skin still ached from the cold earlier. His knees throbbed. His chest felt tight, like something was coiled inside, ready to snap.
His thoughts weren't words. Just feelings. Fragments.
It hurts again today.
I should've eaten more. My head feels floaty.
If I speak now, will they laugh? Or will they look scared?
Ren. Azel. You're warm, even when you're cold. Please stay.
Toty... do you think they'd hug me if I asked? No... never mind. I don't want them to think I'm broken. Even if I am.
Across the room, Azel stared up at the ceiling.
Something about today itched under his skin.
Ren hadn't turned off his lamp. He sat still at his desk, eyes fixed on the same page for over twenty minutes. Not reading. Just thinking.
Kaito didn't sleep.
But for the first time, someone else didn't either.