The early morning mist clung to the sea, curling around the rocks like pale fingers, soft and cold. The waves were quiet, rolling in a slow rhythm that matched the heaviness in Yona's chest. He stood near the edge of the shore, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, shoulders tense beneath the weight of thoughts he couldn't escape.
His eyes didn't look at the sea.
They stared through it.
Past it.
Toward a memory.
Mia.
That day played over and over like a cruel loop in his head.
She had walked into the classroom, her steps light, her expression uncertain, until her eyes fell on him. And Lena.
He hadn't been sitting.
He had been standing so close to Lena. Her laugh still rang faintly in his ears, her hand brushing his sleeve. A joke. A conversation. Just one of those harmless moments.
But it hadn't looked harmless.
Not to Mia.
He remembered the way her face froze.
The way her eyes dimmed.
The way she turned and walked away without a word.
And he had just stood there.
Why hadn't he gone after her?
His jaw tightened. Regret had made a home in his bones. He had tried, really tried to reach her since then. Messages. Calls. Waiting outside her house. Once, he waited near her house for nearly an hour, just to see if she'd walk by.
But she didn't want to see him.
She didn't want to talk.
She made that clear without ever saying a word.
And it tore him apart.
"I wasn't with her," he muttered under his breath, as if saying it aloud would reach across the distance between them. "I wasn't choosing her. I was just… stupid. I didn't see how it looked."
The air stung his eyes not the cold. The guilt.
He kicked at a stone near his foot, watching it skip once before sinking.
Just like him.
He ran a hand through his hair, his voice breaking as he whispered to the sea, "I miss you, Mia. I miss your voice. Your laugh. Even your silence when you were mad."
His throat tightened.
"I don't know how to fix it if you won't even look at me."
A soft wind blew past him, but it didn't carry her voice. No answers came. Just the hush of waves and the ache in his chest.
And the space beside him, where she used to stand.
Empty.
Yona didn't hear the footsteps at first, too lost in the rhythm of the waves and the noise in his own head. But then—
"Yona?"
The voice pulled him out of his thoughts like a jolt. He turned slowly, blinking as the early morning light cut through the fog. Daiki stood a few feet behind him, hands in his hoodie pockets, brows furrowed.
Yona gave a small nod, saying nothing at first.
"I almost didn't recognize you," Daiki said, walking up beside him. "Didn't expect to see anyone else out here this early."
Yona glanced back toward the water. "Couldn't sleep."
Daiki looked at him for a moment, then sat on the edge of a low stone wall nearby. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I figured."
There was a pause. The kind that says more than words.
Then Daiki added, "You've been quiet lately. Even more than usual."
Yona's jaw tightened slightly. "I didn't come out here to talk."
"I know," Daiki said, shrugging. "But you look like you're drowning."
Yona let out a short breath, something between a scoff and a sigh. "I feel like I already did."
Another silence.
Then, softly, Daiki said, "This is about Mia, isn't it?"
Yona closed his eyes for a second. "She saw me with Lena. That day."
"I know."
"She looked at me like I was a stranger. Like I'd betrayed her."
Daiki nodded slowly. "Did you?"
Yona turned to him, voice suddenly sharp. "No. It wasn't like that."
"I didn't say it was," Daiki replied calmly. "But that's what she thinks. And it's not about what we mean sometimes. It's about what we let happen."
Yona turned away again, eyes burning. "I tried talking to her. She won't listen. She won't even look at me."
"Maybe she's scared," Daiki said after a moment. "Maybe she's hurt. Maybe both."
Yona clenched his fists. "I just… I want to fix it. I'd do anything just to hear her talk to me again. To see her look at me without that… distance in her eyes."
He swallowed hard, voice lower now.
"I miss her like hell, Daiki."
The wind shifted, colder this time, curling around them like the memory of something lost.
Daiki stood, clapping a hand gently on Yona's shoulder. "Then don't give up. If it matters that much… find a way. Just don't break yourself in the process."
Yona didn't answer, but his eyes red-rimmed and aching, were full of a storm he wasn't ready to let go of.
And somewhere out there, he knew Mia was carrying a storm of her own.
The wind had settled into a slow breath across the shore, and Yona hadn't moved since Daiki's hand left his shoulder. The waves kept rolling in, soft and endless, but nothing could quiet the war inside him.
Then came the sound of shoes against the gravel. Light. Familiar.
"Yona."
He didn't need to look up. He already knew.
Lena stood beside them, her expression soft, eyes shadowed with something like regret. She didn't say anything at first, just sat beside him, the space between them too close for comfort.
Daiki shifted slightly, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
Lena looked at Yona's profile, her voice barely above a whisper. "I saw you from the street. I thought maybe I should… come talk."
Yona didn't look at her.
She hesitated, then slowly slipped her hand behind his back, sliding it into the pocket of his jacket where his hand rested. Her fingers closed around his quietly.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "It was my fault. That day. In the classroom. I shouldn't have stood that close. I shouldn't have touched you."
Yona still didn't move. His face remained blank, guilt etched in every line, confusion tightening around his eyes, pain like a silent scream in his stillness. But he didn't pull his hand away.
Daiki noticed.
His eyes narrowed, flicking down toward the subtle movement, Lena's hand inside Yona's pocket, fingers intertwined. His jaw tightened as he looked at Yona, then Lena, then back again.
"...Shit," Daiki whispered to himself, almost too low to hear.
Yona's eyes blinked like he'd snapped awake, as if the sound cracked something open. Slowly, stiffly, he pulled his hand out of his pocket—pulling Lena's hand with it , breaking the quiet contact.
Lena looked startled, her lips parting as if to protest, but she didn't speak. She just stared at him for a second, her expression unreadable, then stood quietly.
"I'll… give you space," she said, barely audible, and turned to leave.
Silence fell again for a beat. The only sound was the sea.
Then Daiki exhaled through his nose, voice cool and sharp.
"…Now I understand Mia's feeling."
Yona looked at him, eyes narrowed, but still silent.
Daiki met his gaze without flinching. "You just let her do that?"
Still, Yona didn't speak. He didn't need to. The conflict, the guilt, the weight of a thousand unsaid things, it was all there, churning in his face.
Daiki shook his head once. "That's not confusion, man. That's avoidance "
Yona's jaw tightened. His fingers curled into the fabric of his jeans, nails pressing into his palm. But still, he didn't speak. The weight of Daiki's words hung in the space between them like a blade, sharp, uncomfortable, undeniable.
Daiki sighed, watching him. "You think keeping quiet makes it easier? It doesn't. It just makes it worse. For you. For her."
Yona finally moved, just slightly, his eyes drifting back out to the water, but his voice low, raw.
"I tried… so many times," he said. "To call. To see her. I even waited outside her house twice. She wouldn't open the door. Wouldn't even look at me at school."
Daiki's gaze softened slightly, but only just.
"She saw you with Lena," he said carefully. "Not after. During. You think that image just fades because you miss her?"
Yona closed his eyes for a second, pain flickering behind his lashes. "It wasn't what it looked like. I wasn't with Lena. I never was."
"But you didn't stop her," Daiki said flatly. "Not then. Not now. You let her touch you like it meant something. You let Mia see that."
Yona clenched his jaw. "I froze, okay?" His voice cracked. "I didn't even realize Mia had seen until it was too late. And by then… she wouldn't talk to me. She looked at me like I was...." He swallowed. "Like I was someone else."
The wind tugged at his hair, but he barely noticed.
"I would've explained everything. I wanted to. But the moment I saw her face, I knew I broke something I couldn't fix with just words."
Daiki was quiet for a long moment. Then he crouched beside Yona, voice quieter now.
"Then don't use words."
Yona turned to him.
Daiki met his eyes. "She doesn't need your guilt. She needs your truth. Do something. Show her you still care. Or she'll move on thinking you didn't."
Yona's chest rose slowly, the weight of it all pressing down harder now than ever.
He didn't answer. But the look in his eyes haunted, burning , spoke louder than anything else.
Daiki stood slowly, brushing off the sand from his palms. The breeze caught the edge of his jacket as he glanced down at Yona, still seated and hollow eyed, staring at the sea like it held answers to questions he couldn't voice.
"I gotta go," Daiki said, his tone lighter than his eyes. "My dad's waiting. Some errands to help with."
Yona didn't respond. Just a small nod. Barely there.
Daiki hesitated. Then turned to walk away, his footsteps soft against the gravel of the street. He made it a few steps before pausing. Slowly, he turned his head, casting one last glance back at the boy sitting so still on the rocks.
Yona looked like he belonged to the sea, quiet, lost, wrecked from the inside out.
Daiki frowned, eyes narrowing in thought.
Under his breath, low enough that even the wind almost stole the words, he whispered,
"I don't really know what's on your mind, Yona…"
Then, he turned and walked away, leaving Yona behind—drenched in guilt, memories, and the silence only heartbreak can make.
Yona stood there, alone by the sea, the scent of salt and storm swirling around him like ghosts of choices he couldn't take back.
His fist clenched tighter, and with a roar swallowed by the crash of waves, he slammed it into the muddy shoreline.
Thud.
The cold, wet earth gave way beneath his knuckles, but the pain did nothing to quiet the ache in his chest.
He breathed in sharp, ragged gasps, heart hammering as if it were begging him to move to do something.
And then he did.
He ran.
Feet slamming into the ground, fast and frantic. Through narrow streets. Past blinking lights and the quiet morning haze.
He ran until the familiar gate came into view.
Mia's house.
He didn't hesitate. He pounded on the door , breathless.
"Mia!"
His voice cracked from the cold air and desperation.
The door creaked slowly open, and there she was.
Eyes blank. Expression unreadable.
She didn't say anything.
"Mia…" he breathed out, voice trembling, soaked in guilt. "I know I'm the last person you want to see. But please let me explain. It wasn't what it looked like. I..."
She started to close the door.
"No...wait!" Yona cried, his hand pushing against it. "Please, just listen!"
But Mia didn't even flinch.
Her eyes held something deeper than anger, betrayal.
Without a word, she shoved the door shut with one final push.
Click.
The sound of the lock echoed louder than any scream.
Yona stood there frozen, eyes wide, hand still on the door.
Then—he hit it.
Hard. Once. Twice.
A low growl of anguish escaped him. His forehead dropped against the wood, his fist trembling at his side.
Inside, Mia stood on the other side of the door, breathless, hand pressed to her chest as if trying to hold her heart in place.
She whispered, brokenly:
"I can't let you. You can't fix my heart, Yona… I can't hold it again."
Her knees buckled. She slid slowly to the floor, back against the door.
Tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
"You still want her… not me."
She buried her face in her hands, muffling the sound of her sobs.
But Yona didn't stop.
He ran again, this time until he reached Lena's house, fury burning behind his eyes, confusion and guilt chasing every step.
He didn't knock gently. He banged on the door.
It flew open moments later, and Lena's face appeared—panicked, afraid.
"Yona?! What's wrong? Come in.."
But he didn't move.
He stared at her like she was a wound.
"Stay away from me," he hissed, his voice low, ragged with pain.
Lena blinked, stunned. "W-what…?"
"All of this is because of you!" Yona yelled. "Everything! Mia, us, me. You knew what she saw. You knew how it would look!"
Lena stepped toward him, tears rising in her eyes. "Yona… I didn't mean.."
"Don't."
His voice cut like a knife.
"Don't come near me. Don't speak to me like you care."
Lena stood frozen in the doorway, eyes glistening.
And Yona turned.
He walked away without looking back, shoulders tense, fists clenched, his heart ripping in every direction.
Behind him, Lena's hand dropped to her side, her lips trembling as she whispered into the emptiness:
"I never meant to lose you, too."
Lena stood frozen in the doorway, the morning breeze brushing gently against her skin, but she didn't feel it. Not really. All she felt was the echo of his voice lingering in the air he left behind.
"Don't speak to me like you care."
The words slammed into her, colder than the wind, sharper than glass. Her lips parted, barely moving as she whispered into the silence:
"…But I care, Yona."
And with that breath, something inside her shattered.
She burst into tears, her body folding as if the pain had struck her physically. Her knees gave out and she collapsed just inside the doorway, hands flying to her face. The sobs came fast and full of desperation like years of ache suddenly released all at once.
She didn't try to hide it. She couldn't.
Her chest heaved as she cried, broken gasps scraping through her lungs like they were made of glass.
"It's all my fault…"she choked out, voice trembling so violently it barely sounded like her.
"He's right… why did I lose him in the first place?"
She hugged herself tighter, rocking where she knelt on the floor, her hair falling like a curtain around her face.
"I can't get you back…"
The words tore out of her like a wound reopening , soft, aching, and final. A plea meant for no one but the empty air… and the boy whose footsteps had already faded.
"I never wanted this… not like this."
Tears streamed down her cheeks in silence now. The sobs slowed, but the hurt stayed raw, relentless. She buried her face in her arms, crumbling under the weight of the love she'd broken without meaning to.
And as the morning sun crept past her doorway, Lena stayed curled on the floor, drowning in the one thing she couldn't undo.
To be continue .....