Chapter 4- Soft Walls, Hard Truths

Chapter 4- soft walls, Hard truths

It started with a bruise.

Barely visible. Faint yellow peeking beneath the sleeve of Kaito’s hoodie as he reached for his phone. Yuto hadn’t meant to notice—but he always noticed Kaito.

“You okay?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Kaito looked up, startled. “What?”

“Your arm. Looks like you got hit.”

Kaito blinked, then tugged his sleeve down without answering.

Yuto didn’t press. But the silence after that wasn’t comfortable like before. It felt tight, like a string pulled too far.

Later that afternoon, the rain came back.

But this time, Yuto offered to walk Kaito home.

⸻

Kaito hesitated.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“I want to,” Yuto replied.

Kaito studied him. Then, with a sigh, he shrugged. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

They walked in silence. The streets were slick and glistening, the sky heavy and gray. Kaito’s neighborhood was far from the clean, polite part of town Yuto knew. The buildings were worn down, windows cracked, paint peeling. Everything smelled faintly of smoke and rain.

Kaito’s apartment was on the third floor of a narrow building, tucked between a shuttered laundromat and a closed convenience store. The stairs creaked with every step.

Inside, it was quiet—but not the kind of quiet Yuto liked.

This one felt like something was waiting to snap.

“You can sit,” Kaito muttered, nodding at the worn couch. “It doesn’t bite.”

Yuto sat carefully. The living room was small and dim, lit only by the flickering light from the hallway. A single photo hung crooked on the wall—Kaito as a child, standing stiffly beside a man who wasn’t smiling.

“Do you live with your dad?” Yuto asked gently.

Kaito didn’t answer right away. He tossed his jacket on a chair and rubbed his hands over his face.

“Sometimes,” he said finally.

Yuto waited.

“Depends on if he’s drinking.”

The words hung there, bitter and raw.

“I come here when I know he’s out. Or too wasted to care.”

Yuto’s chest tightened. “Kaito…”

“Don’t,” Kaito said quickly, voice low. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you feel sorry for me.”

Yuto stood. He crossed the room, slow and steady, until they were standing inches apart.