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1042words
The soaked jersey clung to his back, outlining the sharp shape of his shoulder blades.
From the teacher’s perspective at the podium, one could still see the slight tremble in his shoulders.
But the teacher ultimately said nothing.
Because Ryan and Kyle...
They were, after all, sort of family.
The homeroom teacher had contacted the parents before, meaning Ryan's father, Kyle's stepfather.
And Mr. Sullivan's attitude was turning a blind eye, blatantly favoring Kyle, his stepson.
The result was that Kyle's bullying didn't lessen at all; it intensified.
Since then, no teacher bothered to intervene anymore.
In the adult world, thankless tasks like this were easily dismissed as 'family matters.'
Now, I stared at the textbook but couldn't take in a single word.
Back then, lying in a hospital bed, I accepted the System's binding and came to this world.
The System promised me that as long as I completed the task, it would cure my illness.
I thought redeeming a gentle boy wouldn't be hard.
The first three times, I stayed by Ryan's side as a friend.
Shielded him from bullying, listened to his anxieties, shared every bit of joy I could find.
Naively, I thought friendship alone could support Ryan through the lows.
But every time, all I got was a cold funeral invitation.
And a handwritten letter he left behind—
*[Lily, you are my best friend.
Thank you. Please, be happy.]*
So clean, so gentle.
Considering everyone thoroughly, but forgetting to leave a way out for himself.
Until the fourth reset, I realized my feelings for Ryan weren't just sympathy—
I fell in love with the boy who would give me his only umbrella in the rain and run off to get drenched.
Who remembered my period, carried spare pads, silently helped me carry heavy things.
Loved his kindness towards this harsh world.
I even loved his deep-rooted inferiority and sensitivity.
And from then on, I gave it my all.
I poured out my love, my optimism, all my passion.
Trying to light a never-extinguishing bonfire in his pessimistic world.
So I confessed, we dated, we moved in together.
Ryan would sit by the bed watching me sleep, placing a soft kiss when I woke.
He liked hugging me from behind, burying his face in my neck, whispering:
"Lily... Lily, meeting you is the greatest luck of my life."
I thought he had truly come out of it.
I thought this time, we could walk towards a future of growing old side by side.
But his death always came without warning.
One day, Ryan was still wearing the bunny apron I picked, his face flushed by the steam in the kitchen,
gently tilting his head to ask me, "Lily, do you want steamed fish or braised fish tomorrow?"
The next day, I found the empty bottle of sleeping pills beside his cold corpse.
The night before, we were still sleeping in each other's arms, his breath warm against my neck.
The next morning, the space beside me was empty, and a strong smell of blood came from the bathroom.
I collapsed, shaking my head over and over.
And beside his body, there was always a small wooden box.
The first time I saw it, Ryan took out a yellowed note from inside.
After just one glance, all color drained from his face.
I asked him what it was?
Ryan immediately put the note back in the box, giving me a reassuring smile.
Said it was nothing, told me not to worry.
And the next day, Ryan turned on the gas in a sealed room.
From then on, I desperately tried to find that wooden box.
Wanted to know what was written on that note that pushed him towards death again and again.
But I never found it.
Until the seventh reset—the previous cycle.
Ryan and I had clearly come so far, farther than ever before.
We had clearly stepped into marriage, and Ryan's genuine smiles were becoming more frequent.
That afternoon, I had just come back from the hospital.
Holding the report, I pushed open the bedroom door, wanting to surprise him.
Then, I saw it.
Ryan stood quietly by the window, holding that all-too-familiar note.
All the prepared joy on my face froze instantly.
I used all my willpower not to rush over hysterically, snatch the note, and tear it up.
"Ryan..."
I heard my own trembling voice:
"I... I'm pregnant. Do you want to see our baby?"
Ryan by the window looked so pale, like a wisp of light in the snow, ready to melt at any moment.
He turned around, backlit, wearing that familiar, sorrowful smile,
"Yeah, later."
My world collapsed at that moment.
"Ryan!!"
I shook the report frantically, tears rolling uncontrollably:
"Isn't this enough?! Aren't you looking forward to our baby? What the hell is written on that paper? Even if it's a curse, so what? I'm here! I'm here! We can start over!"
For a moment, the feeling of Ryan about to vanish shattered.
He rushed over and hugged me, apologizing over and over, the embrace so tight.
As if trying to embed me into his very bones.
But the next day, he still jumped from the top floor of that building.
I loved him, saved him, pulled him out of the abyss again and again.
Yet he chose to jump back down every time.
I struggled until now, held on until now.
All of it—every bit—was in vain.
"Ding-ding-ding—"
The harsh bell dragged me out of my memories.
I was still dazed, my vision blurry.
"Bang!"
A hand slammed onto my desk, making the pencil case jump.
A shadow loomed over me.
I looked up and saw Kyle.
One hand in his pocket, leaning slightly forward, looking down at me.
The top two buttons of his jersey were undone, revealing sharp collarbones.
His hair was a bit long, black strands falling down, almost covering his eyes.
"Hey, Lily Carter."
He spoke, his voice lazy, with a hint of a streetwise edge:
"What you said before class, that 'take me away' stuff, what did you mean?"
Kyle paused, then smirked, revealing small canine teeth:
"You're not... into me, are you?"
