The bell had rung a few minutes ago, but the hallway still buzzed with the restless energy of students escaping class.
Backpacks brushed against lockers.
Voices bounced off the walls.
Somebody laughed too loudly somewhere near the vending machines.
At the far end of the corridor, *** and Ozamar pushed their way into the staircase with the rest of the crowd.
The air inside the stairwell was cooler.
Echoing.
Every step sounded hollow against the concrete.
Ozamar walked one step ahead, then slowed until they were side by side.
For a while he didn't say anything.
He just glanced at *** every now and then.
*** walked quietly, one hand on the railing, eyes lowered.
Then Ozamar finally spoke.
"So."
*** didn't react.
Ozamar kicked lightly at one of the steps as they descended.
"Who's Chri?"
The name cut through the noise like a thin blade.
***'s foot stopped for half a second.
The world continued moving around him.
Students walking past.
Shoes hitting steps.
But something inside his head had already shifted.
The staircase blurred slightly.
The voices became distant.
And suddenly—
Years Earlier
The school courtyard looked too big.
At least it did to ****.
He stood near the edge of the fence, hands hidden deep in the sleeves of his oversized hoodie.
He had only transferred to this school three days ago.
Everything still felt wrong.
Different teachers.
Different hallways.
Different people.
None of them knew him.
And he didn't know how to talk to them anyway.
Across the yard, groups of kids played together.
Running.
Arguing.
Laughing.
**** stayed where he was.
Alone.
The wind moved gently through the empty part of the courtyard.
He stared at the ground.
Then he started whispering again.
"…Only if you were here."
His voice was soft.
Almost embarrassed by itself.
"Giacomo."
His fingers tightened slightly inside the sleeves.
"I know you're here."
The words came out slowly.
Like he had repeated them many times before.
"I know you are."
He lifted his head slightly, looking around the empty part of the yard.
But there was no answer.
Just wind.
"…Please."
His voice cracked.
"Just show yourself."
Then—
"Hey."
The voice behind him was sharp.
Annoyed.
**** turned slowly.
A boy stood a few meters away.
His posture was relaxed but confident in a way that felt almost arrogant.
His hair was short and brown, combed roughly to one side like he didn't really care how it looked.
Bright blue eyes watched him through large, thick glasses.
The boy pushed the glasses slightly up his nose.
Then he spoke again.
"You weird or something?"
**** blinked.
The boy continued.
"You've been talking to yourself for like five minutes."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Or are you talking to ghosts?"
****'s jaw tightened.
"What do you want?"
The boy smirked.
"I was sitting here."
He pointed casually to the ground beside him.
"And you keep whispering like some horror movie kid."
He crossed his arms.
"So yeah."
His tone became colder.
"Shut up."
The words landed heavy.
**** felt heat rising in his chest.
"I wasn't talking to you."
The boy shrugged.
"You were talking."
His blue eyes narrowed slightly.
"And it was annoying."
The arrogance in his voice made something inside **** shrink and burn at the same time.
"Leave me alone."
The boy laughed quietly.
"Why?"
He stepped closer.
"What are you gonna do about it?"
For a moment **** didn't answer.
His fingers trembled slightly inside his sleeves.
The boy noticed.
"Oh."
A small grin appeared on his face.
"You're one of those quiet ones."
He leaned closer, studying him.
"You look like you'd cry if someone yelled at you."
****'s eyes flickered.
The sentence hit something sensitive.
The boy noticed immediately.
"Oh wow."
He smirked wider.
"That actually worked."
Then he added casually:
"So what's your name, ghost boy?"
**** hesitated.
"…****."
The boy repeated it slowly.
"****."
Then he pointed at himself.
"Chri."
His voice carried the same confident arrogance.
Like the name belonged to someone important.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then suddenly **** said something strange.
His voice was quieter now.
Almost fragile.
"…I need a human touch."
Chri blinked.
"…What?"
**** looked at the ground.
His shoulders slightly hunched.
"I just…"
He struggled to finish the sentence.
"…need someone to talk to."
The words sounded painfully honest.
But the reaction they received was not gentle.
Chri's face changed instantly.
His expression twisted with irritation.
"Are you serious?"
**** looked up slightly.
Chri's voice rose sharply.
"You come here whispering to ghosts and then say weird shit like that?"
He stepped closer, clearly angry now.
"I'm not your therapist."
His blue eyes flashed behind the thick lenses.
"And I'm definitely not touching you."
The humiliation burned across ****'s face.
"I didn't mean—"
"Yeah you did."
Chri cut him off.
"You literally said you need human touch."
He laughed harshly.
"That's the creepiest thing I've heard all week."
Something inside **** snapped.
The shame turned into anger.
His fists clenched.
"Shut up."
Chri tilted his head slightly.
"Or what?"
That was enough.
**** lunged forward.
His fist collided with Chri's shoulder.
The movement surprised both of them.
Chri stumbled half a step back.
Then he grinned.
"Oh."
His voice lowered.
"So that's how it is."
Before **** could react, Chri swung back.
His punch connected with ****'s cheek.
The fight started instantly.
No technique.
Just raw frustration.
They shoved each other against the fence.
Hands grabbing shirts.
Punches landing clumsily.
**** swung again.
This time his fist connected with Chri's mouth.
CRACK.
Chri's glasses slipped sideways.
Blood appeared between his teeth.
For a moment everything froze.
Chri touched his lip.
Looked at the blood on his fingers.
Then he laughed.
A short, surprised laugh.
"You're insane."
****'s breathing was heavy.
But something strange happened inside his mind.
The image of Chri blurred slightly.
And suddenly another face appeared.
Cristian.
Laughing.
Shouting.
Punching him again and again.
The memory twisted reality.
Chri's face and Cristian's face overlapped in his mind.
"You're like him…"
Chri frowned.
"…What?"
The anger exploded.
**** stepped forward again.
"YOU'RE LIKE CRISTIAN!"
His fist slammed into Chri's teeth.
Blood splattered across his lip.
"YOU HUMAN TRASH!"
Chri staggered back against the fence.
His glasses hung crooked on his face.
But his eyes were no longer mocking.
Now they were studying **** carefully.
Like he had just discovered something unexpected.
Present
The staircase came back slowly.
Students passed around them again.
Noise.
Movement.
Reality.
*** stood halfway down the stairs.
His hand gripping the railing slightly tighter.
Ozamar watched him carefully.
"Hey."
*** blinked slowly.
"You good?"
For a moment *** didn't answer.
Then Ozamar nudged his shoulder lightly.
"Cri."
The name pulled him fully back.
*** looked at him.
"…Yeah."
Ozamar tilted his head.
"You went quiet."
He studied his face.
"That memory hit hard, huh?"
*** didn't deny it.
He just looked down the stairs again.
And somewhere deep in his mind…
Blue eyes behind thick glasses still stared back at him.