Where the air is clear chapter 9-11

Instructions

Chapter Ten: Ghosts Don't Get to Speak Yuki sat on the edge of the bleachers, pretending to laugh at something Daichi said. The sun was too bright, and the air smelled like spring and grass and freedom—things that used to feel good. Now they just made him restless. His sketchpad was open in his lap, half-filled with broken lines he didn’t remember drawing. “Yo, Yuki. You even paying attention?” Daichi nudged him with a smirk. “Yeah,” Yuki replied, forcing a quick grin. “Just zoning out.” “You always zone out,” Kaito added. “What are you, haunted or something?” Yuki’s pencil snapped in half between his fingers. “Dude—” Daichi laughed. “Relax. It’s just a joke.” Yuki dropped the broken pencil and stood. “Gonna get water,” he mumbled, already walking down the steps. He didn’t wait for their replies. He couldn’t breathe. Not since she had spoken to him. Arisol. Her voice had cracked something wide open inside him. Her eyes—green and burning—looked at him like he’d become someone else. And he had. He had to. She wasn’t supposed to see him again. No one was. He’d made peace with dying. Said goodbye in poems and broken breaths. And then he woke up in a new facility, connected to machines, given one chance. They said it was a miracle. He felt like a fraud. Because the moment he started to get better… he started forgetting how to be the boy she loved. He remembered every word she’d said on that hospital floor. Every poem. Every time she whispered, don’t forget me. But he had to let go. If he let her back in… it would destroy him. Still—when she said his name today, the part of him he buried screamed. He sat back down, ignoring the way his friends looked at him. One of them was still talking, but it was background noise. His hand hovered over the poem she’d left. He hadn’t opened it yet. He wasn’t sure he could. Yuki Arai was supposed to be gone. So why did her voice still feel like home? Chapter Eleven: Everything You Pretended Not to See The hallway buzzed with after-lunch energy—shouts, footsteps, and half-finished jokes echoing off the walls. Yuki walked ahead of his friends, water bottle in hand, head tilted down as he scrolled through his phone. Behind him, Daichi was talking loud, trying to make Kaito laugh. They were all walking toward the bleachers again. Just another normal afternoon. Until it wasn’t. Yuki turned a corner too fast and collided hard into someone. The sound of a notebook hitting the floor cracked through the hallway like a shot. Arisol stumbled back, her bag sliding off her shoulder. Her cardigan sleeve slipped down, and just for a second—long enough for the whole world to see—her left arm was exposed. And there they were. Fresh. Raw. Real. A row of shallow but clear, new cuts marked her skin like whispers that had screamed silently into the night. Red, unhealed, recent. A secret written in pain she never meant for anyone to read. Time slowed. Everything around them blurred. “Arisol,” Yuki breathed. “What the hell…” Daichi muttered behind him, the laughter gone from his voice. Kaito’s eyes widened, stunned. “Is she hurt? That—those look…” Arisol’s eyes locked with Yuki’s—and then filled with panic. She yanked her sleeve up in a frantic motion and stepped backward, trembling. Her lips parted like she might explain, but no words came out. Yuki didn’t blink. Didn’t move. His heart slammed against his ribs like it was trying to escape. “I said don’t look!” she shouted suddenly, loud enough to make the hallway hush. “It’s none of your business!” She grabbed her notebook with shaking hands, her voice cracking. “You wanted to pretend you didn’t know me? Fine. Then you don’t get to look at me like you care.” “Arisol—” Yuki stepped forward. “Don’t,” she said, holding up a hand. Her voice was soft now. Broken. “You died, Yuki. I lost you. And I lost my dad. And I lost myself. But at least I didn’t pretend none of it happened.” Then she turned and walked away, fast—shoulders stiff, head low, trying not to fall apart in front of people who would never understand. The hallway stayed quiet. Even Daichi didn’t joke. Even Kaito didn’t move. Yuki stood there, breathless, feeling like his chest had been hollowed out. His fingers curled slowly into fists. That was the moment he realized: He could keep running from her. But he couldn’t run from what he did to her.