Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The rain sounded strange today.

Not cold, not warm. Just… there.

Like how I’ve been lately — existing, but not really living.

They always ask if I’m okay. I say yes. It’s easier that way. Because if I don’t, they’ll worry, and I don’t want to be the reason they stop smiling.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m even the same person back then. Maybe I’m just acting like Duri now. The “Duri” who cracks jokes, who tries to keep up, who pretends he understands why the world keeps moving even when he doesn’t.

But lately… it’s getting harder.

I can’t find the line between pretending and being.

“Who are you, Duri?”

I used to know.

Chapter Text

“Okay, everyone!” Solar’s voice sliced through the kitchen noise like a bell. “I’ve decided to write something serious this time!”

Blaze, halfway through juggling three oranges, dropped all of them. “Serious? As in, not about laser-wielding alien cats again?”

Solar puffed his cheeks. “That was a good story, thank you very much! But this time, I want to write something emotional. You know… something that makes people feel.”

“Good luck,” muttered Ais from the couch, eyes still closed. “You’ll need it.”

Halilintar folded his arms, smirking faintly. “What brought this on, Solar?”

“I dunno.” Solar looked down at his notebook. “I just… want to write something that feels real. Not just cool.”

Taufan leaned over Blaze’s shoulder. “Bet it’s about some tragic hero or something!”

Gempa set down his teacup and gave Solar a gentle nod. “If that’s what your heart’s telling you, go for it. Just remember, you don’t have to make it perfect right away.”

Duri, seated at the end of the table, barely lifted his head.

“What’s it about?” he asked quietly.

Solar blinked, then smiled. “Not sure yet. But maybe… about someone who doesn’t know who they are.”

Duri’s fingers froze mid-tap on the table.

The others laughed it off — Blaze made a joke about Solar being depressed after seeing him watch an emotional cartoon, and Halilintar told him to stop teasing. But Solar noticed Duri didn’t smile.

Not even a twitch.

That night, their group chat lit up with usual chaos.

[Family Chat]

Blaze:
anyone up?

Taufan:
no. go sleep.

Blaze:
u awake tho??

Solar:
i’m working on my story :D

Gempa:
Don’t stay up too late, Solar.

Halilintar:
Seconded.

Ais:
i can’t even read this without yawning

Duri:
What’s it about again?

Solar:
someone who keeps pretending to be okay. but one day he breaks.

Duri:
Oh

Blaze:
yikes that’s depressing lol

Taufan:
sounds like u solar after ur grades drop

Solar:
rude

But long after everyone went offline, one person stayed in the chat.

The “typing…” bubble appeared and disappeared several times.

Then finally—

Duri: What happens to him after he breaks?

Solar never saw it. He’d already fallen asleep.

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight poured through the windows, scattering gold across the Elemental siblings’ shared home.

Solar sat cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by notebooks, pencil shavings, and an absurd amount of coffee.

His handwriting looped across the page — messy, impatient, passionate.

The protagonist wakes up in a world too bright to feel real.

He wears a smile because he’s supposed to. Everyone expects him to. But he’s empty inside — and no one notices.

He stopped writing, frowning at the line.

“…too on the nose?” he muttered to himself.

From the kitchen, Duri’s voice came — bright and cheerful. “What’s too on the nose, Sunny?”

Solar looked up to see Duri holding a tray of pancakes stacked impossibly high.

The younger boy’s grin was radiant, the kind that could blind you from the inside out.

But Solar knew something about that smile felt… stretched.

“Oh—uh, nothing!” Solar said. “Just… my story. Wanna read it?”

Duri blinked. “Me? Sure! But don’t blame me if I don’t understand half of it,” he teased.

Solar laughed lightly and handed him the notebook.

Duri sat at the table, flipping through the messy pages.

His expression softened, then froze for a moment as his eyes darted over one particular paragraph.

He laughs, but his laughter sounds like thorns brushing against skin.

It’s pretty. It hurts.

Solar noticed. “You okay?”

Duri blinked rapidly, smiling again. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s great! You’ve really gotten better at this.”

“Really?” Solar beamed. “I was scared it was too gloomy.”

“Nah. It’s… real.” Duri said quietly. “You wrote it like someone who’s been there.”

[Family Chat]

Blaze:
bros what’s for dinner 😭 i can’t live on instant noodles anymore

Gempa:
You wouldn’t need to if you stopped burning everything you cook.

Taufan:
BURNED AGAIN 💀💀💀

Ais:
i vote ice cream for dinner

Halilintar:
you always vote ice cream for dinner

Solar:
i’m cooking tonight then!

Blaze:
pls no more “experimental recipes” solar. last time my tongue went supernova.

Solar:
it was only a little spicy

Duri:
lol it wasn’t bad actually

Solar smiled when he saw Duri’s message — it had the same tone, the same laugh as always.

But something felt different about it.

Like the smile had become too perfect.

That night, Solar’s phone buzzed again.

A private message this time.

Duri:
Hey. About your story. Can I see the next part?

Solar blinked.

He hadn’t even finished editing it yet.

But something about Duri’s tone — polite, almost desperate — made him type back anyway.

Solar:
sure! it’s kinda rough tho

Duri:
that’s fine. i just wanna know what happens next.

Solar didn’t think much of it.

But days later, he found Duri sitting under the shade of the oak tree outside their home — notebook in hand, reading his draft again.

The smile was still there.

But the sunlight didn’t reach his eyes.

That night, Gempa noticed Duri wasn’t answering calls.

Ais mentioned Duri had skipped lunch.

Halilintar brushed it off at first, saying Duri probably needed space.

But even Taufan, the one who rarely noticed anything serious, said quietly, “He’s been smiling a lot lately… too much.”

Solar’s hand froze mid-text.

“…yeah,” he murmured. “I noticed too.”

Chapter Text

It’s easy to smile when everyone expects you to.

Harder when you start forgetting why you’re smiling in the first place.

It started small — the kind of change you only notice after it’s already happened.

Duri still laughed at Blaze and Taufan’s antics.

Still helped Gempa in the kitchen.

Still greeted Halilintar every morning with that same cheerful, "Morning, big bro!"

But sometimes… his timing was off.

A joke would land, everyone would laugh, and Duri would join a second too late — like he was remembering how to sound happy instead of feeling it.

“Hey, Duri, pass the salt,” said Blaze during dinner one evening.

“Sure!” Duri smiled, handing him the sugar instead.

“Uh—”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, my bad!” he laughed, rubbing his neck. “Guess I’m still half-asleep.”

Blaze chuckled, shaking his head. “Bro’s running on garden mode again.”

The table laughed.

But Solar noticed Duri’s laugh stopped before everyone else’s.

He wasn’t half-asleep. He just looked… distant.

Later that night, Solar opened his story draft again.

He’d been adding to it in bits — always with Duri in mind.

The character’s name is Lys. He says he’s fine. Everyone believes him.

But when no one’s watching, he talks to the walls.

Because the silence feels less fake than his voice.

Solar hesitated before writing more. Something about it made his chest tighten.

[Family Chat]

Blaze:
anyone else hear weird noises from the kitchen?

Taufan:
yeah. sounded like glass cracking

Gempa:
Duri, you were there earlier, right? Everything okay?

Duri:
yeah! just dropped a plate haha, no biggie

Halilintar:
careful next time. make sure you’re resting enough

Duri:
yeah yeah i’m fine :)

Ais:
weird. i thought i heard someone crying.

Blaze:
???

Taufan:
huh?

Gempa:
Ais, are you sure?

Ais:
dunno. maybe i was dreaming again.

Solar didn’t type anything.

He stared at Duri’s message — “i’m fine :)” — until the screen dimmed out.

That smile looked so wrong even in text.

Days passed.

Duri began staying outside longer, sometimes sitting by the garden for hours, sketching thorns and vines that curled into unreadable patterns.

When Solar joined him one evening, Duri didn’t look up.

He was drawing a rose — or trying to.

The petals were uneven, the stem sharp enough to look like it could cut through paper.

“Still working on your story?” Duri asked.

“Yeah,” Solar said, sitting beside him. “You?”

“Just doodling.”

Solar smiled. “That’s… a pretty rose.”

Duri paused, glancing at it. “Roses don’t grow in my forest,” he murmured.

“Huh?”

“Too much shadow. Not enough sun.”

Before Solar could reply, Duri smiled again — brighter than ever.

“Anyway! You should add a happy ending for once.”

“I might,” Solar said softly.

But both of them knew he wouldn’t.

That night, Solar found something strange on the kitchen counter — a scrap of notebook paper, torn from one of Duri’s journals.

 If I disappear, will the vines still bloom?

Or will they strangle what’s left?

Solar froze, staring at it. His heart hammered in his chest.

He looked toward the dark hallway where Duri’s room was.

The faintest sound came through — a quiet hum.

Duri’s voice.

Soft. Hollow.

Repeating the same line under his breath.

Over and over.

 “I’m fine.”

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun filtered through the living room windows, warm and gentle.

Solar sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by his notebooks again.

This time, he wasn’t writing.

He was erasing.

So many sentences, scratched out.

Rewritten.

Scratched out again.

The story was becoming harder to continue — not because he didn’t know what to write, but because every time he tried, he heard Duri’s voice in it.

 Lys smiled because he was supposed to.

He didn’t remember how to do it any other way.

Solar’s hand froze.

That was something Duri had once said — years ago, in a moment so small Solar had almost forgotten it:

 “I don’t really get sad. I just smile again. That’s what I should do, right?”

Back then, Solar had laughed.

Now, he felt sick.

Duri appeared in the doorway — bright grin, light steps, the picture of happiness.

“Solar! Did you finish the next part?”

His voice was too eager. Too hungry.

Solar forced a smile. “Yeah. Here.”

He passed the notebook over.

Duri took it like it was something sacred.

He sat on the couch and began reading, eyes flicking over each sentence with careful intensity — as if he was searching for himself inside the pages.

Solar watched him.

Not his expression — that didn’t change.

But his breathing.

Slow.

Shallow.

Tight.

Like each line was wrapping around him, pulling him inward.

Blaze and Taufan crashed into the room like two tornadoes of chaos.

“HEY—DURI—RACE YOU TO THE BACK FIELD—LOSER WASHES DISHES FOR THREE DAYS—”

Blaze grabbed Duri’s wrist.

And that was the moment.

Duri didn’t react.

Not startled.

Not annoyed.

Not anything.

He just looked up with that same bright smile.

“Oh—sure. Sounds fun.”

But his eyes were dead.

Blaze’s grin faltered for half a second.

“…yeah. Cool. Let’s go.”

Taufan didn’t notice. He never did.

But Blaze?

Blaze noticed everything he didn’t know how to say.

That night, the siblings gathered in the living room.

Duri was asleep early, claiming he was “just tired.”

His smile was the same then, too.

Halilintar stood with crossed arms. His voice was low.

“Something’s wrong with him.”

Gempa nodded. “He’s smiling too much.”

Ais rubbed his eyes, barely awake. “…i heard him repeating lines in his room.”

Solar’s head shot up. “What lines?”

Ais blinked. “…your story. The part about pretending being easier.”

Silence.

Taufan swallowed. “Guys… he’s not acting like Duri anymore.”

Blaze sat on the arm of the couch, staring at nothing. “…it feels like he’s copying himself. Like a replay.”

Solar’s fingers tightened around his notebook until the pages crumpled.

“It’s my fault.”

Halilintar stepped forward immediately. “No.”

“Yes.” Solar’s voice cracked — small, but sharp. “I knew he connected to the story. I thought… I thought it would help him understand himself. But instead—”

“He’s using it to replace himself,” Gempa finished quietly.

Solar nodded.

Because that’s exactly what it was.

Duri wasn’t losing himself.

He was letting himself fade — and letting Solar’s story fill the empty spaces.

They all went quiet as footsteps sounded from the hallway.

Duri stood there.

Still smiling.

Still perfect.

“Why did you stop talking?”

His tone was light. Pleasant.

Practiced.

And for the first time, every sibling felt it.

That smile was wrong.

Chapter Text

Morning felt normal.

Too normal.

Duri greeted everyone the same way he always did —

bright grin, soft laugh, a cheerful “good morning!” as he passed each sibling.

But the moment he turned away, the room felt colder.

Gempa was the first to break the silence.

“He didn’t even look at me.”

Halilintar exhaled slowly. “He looked. Just… not at you.”

Solar swallowed.

He didn’t sleep last night — he reread his entire draft, wondering which sentence had made Duri’s smile tighten into a mask.

Later that afternoon, Solar found Duri sitting in the garden, leaning against the old oak tree.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves above him, scattering warm shapes across his face.

He looked peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Duri held Solar’s notebook in his hands — the pages slightly wrinkled from holding them too tightly.

Solar knelt beside him.

“Duri,” he said softly.

“Hm?”

Duri didn’t look up.

“I… I need to talk to you.”

A warm, friendly smile.

“Sure. What’s up, Sunny?”

Solar hesitated.

He had prepared so many ways to ask — gentle questions, soft reassurances, maybe even a joke.

But when he saw Duri’s expression — so bright, so perfect, so absolutely wrong —

All of it fell away.

“…are you okay?”

Duri blinked once.

Then laughed.

It wasn’t a loud laugh or a scared laugh.

It was small.

Bubbly.

Sweet.

Completely empty.

“Of course I am!” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Duri…” Solar’s voice shook. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Duri paused.

Just for a second.

His smile loosened — like a thread slipping from a knot.

But then it snapped back in place.

“I’m not pretending.”

Solar felt his chest tighten. “But—”

“I said I’m fine,” Duri repeated, softer this time.

Too soft.

Too controlled.

Solar opened his mouth to speak again—

—but Duri suddenly placed the notebook in Solar’s hands.

“You should write the next chapter,” Duri said. “I’m really… looking forward to it.”

Something about his tone—

gentle but hollow, hopeful but dead—

made Solar’s heart drop into his stomach.

“…Duri,” Solar whispered. “Do you want the story to tell you what to feel?”

For the first time, Duri’s smile faltered.

Not gone.

Not broken.

Just… thinned.

As if someone had erased a single stroke from a painted face.

“…it helps,” Duri said quietly. “Your story knows what I’m supposed to be. Sometimes I… forget.”

Solar’s breath hitched.

His throat tightened.

This was it.

The first crack.

“Forget what?”

Duri lifted his head.

Eyes empty.

Smile perfect.

Voice barely above a whisper.

“…who I am.”

Solar’s blood ran cold.

Before he could speak—

before he could reach out—

A tremor pulsed through the ground beneath them.

Small.

Almost gentle.

Like something under the earth had stirred in its sleep.

Solar’s eyes widened.

“Duri—?”

The smile returned instantly.

Too wide.

“I’m fine,” Duri said, standing up. “Really.”

He dusted off his pants, as cheerful as ever.

But as he walked back toward the house, his steps were uneven, shaky even. 

Solar noticed.

But Duri had already gone. No footprints. No evidence. Just a better view when Duri left.

Chapter Text

The living room felt wrong without Duri in it — as if a lamp had been turned on but gave no real light.

Halilintar paced.

Gempa sat stiffly on the couch.

Blaze kept tapping his foot against the floor.

Taufan, for once, wasn’t smiling.

Ais was half-awake, but his eyes were unusually alert.

Solar stood in the center, notebook clutched against his chest.

“He said…” Solar swallowed, voice trembling,

“…he forgets who he is.”

Gempa’s breath caught.

Halilintar stopped pacing. “He said that?”

Solar nodded. “And when he walked away… he didn’t leave footprints.”

A shiver ran across the room.

Ais yawned once, but his voice was unnervingly sober.

“That’s… not a loss of power. That’s emotional disconnection.”

Blaze frowned. “Meaning?”

“It’s like…” Gempa hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“Duri isn’t grounded. He’s here physically, but emotionally… he’s somewhere else entirely.”

Taufan whispered, “Like his powers don’t know who he is anymore.”

No one laughed.

No one argued.

Not this time.

Solar gripped his notebook tighter.

“He needs help. But if we push too hard—”

“He’ll mask harder,” Halilintar finished grimly. “He’s been doing that already.”

The bathroom mirror reflected a boy who looked perfectly fine.

Duri leaned closer.

Smiled.

Tilted his head.

Perfect expression.

Perfect brightness.

Perfect Duri.

He had done it for years.

He could do it now.

Easy.

(But it was getting harder to remember what the real version looked like.)

He pressed his fingertips lightly to the glass.

“…you’re fine,” he whispered to his reflection.

“Just be normal. Just stay cheerful. Don’t mess up.”

He smiled again.

Wider.

Sharper.

Nothing.

No happiness.

No relief.

No warmth.

Just a dull, heavy emptiness.

A body he moved because everyone needed him to move.

His gaze dropped.

On the counter, Solar’s story lay open.

Lys wondered if disappearing would make things easier for everyone.

He didn’t want to die.

He just wanted to stop existing as “him.”

Duri traced the line with a finger.

Warmth didn’t come.

Sadness didn’t come.

No emotion came.

Just a whisper in his mind:

If I became like Lys… maybe that would make sense. Maybe that would be easier.

His chest tightened.

But not from emotion.

From absence.

He hugged himself, head lowering.

“…I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“We can’t leave him alone,” Gempa insisted. “Not like this.”

“But if we crowd him, he’ll shut down,” Ais murmured.

Blaze’s knee bounced rapidly. “Then what do we do?!”

Solar breathed out shakily.

“We start small.

Someone stays near him.

Someone checks in.

And I’ll… I’ll stop writing the story until he’s stable.”

Taufan blinked. “You really think that’ll help?”

“Yes,” Solar said firmly.

“He’s clinging to the story because he thinks it tells him who he’s supposed to be.

But he needs to remember who he actually is.”

Halilintar placed a hand on Solar’s shoulder.

“We’ll get him back. Duri’s still here. Even if he’s slipping.”

Solar nodded.

He wanted to believe that.

He needed to believe that.

Duri returned to his room.

Sat on his bed.

Opened Solar’s notebook again.

He flipped to the latest chapter — the one Solar had given him earlier.

Halfway through the page, one line caught his eye:

“Sometimes, Lys forgot where he ended and the mask began.”

Duri blinked.

His fingers trembled slightly.

Mask…

What mask…?

He wasn’t wearing—

He touched his face.

Smiling.

Still smiling.

The same smile he always wore.

His heart dropped.

“…was this… always here?”

He didn’t remember putting it on.

He didn’t remember choosing it.

He didn’t remember when it replaced his real face.

For a moment — just a moment — his smile vanished.

An expression surfaced beneath it:

Confusion.

Fear.

Hollowness.

The room trembled gently—

his powers reacting to something he couldn’t name.

He whispered, voice shaking:

“…what… is my real face?”

The ground cracked.

A thin line of earth split beneath his feet.

And from under his breath, one broken truth slipped out:

“I don’t want to be here.”

His powers pulsed — a tremor through the room.

Chapter Text

ri finally emerged from his room.

Cheerful smile on. Posture relaxed. Eyes bright.

But Solar’s stomach twisted. Something in the brightness looked… strained. Like Duri had practiced it in the mirror first.

“Hey everyone!” Duri greeted, voice upbeat. “Guess what? I reorganised the herb garden! And I made tea! And I—”

Blaze cut in dramatically. “DURI!! MY HERO!! I HAVE BEEN THIRSTY FOR—”

Gempa placed a heavy hand on Blaze’s shoulder. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Duri laughed. It sounded perfect. Too perfect.

Solar watched him from the side.

Why do you laugh like that?

It didn’t sound like the real Duri — the one who used to giggle awkwardly, or smile quietly, or ask shyly if Solar wanted to read together.

This smile… this laugh…

It looked like armor.

And Solar… Solar didn’t know how to say it out loud.

WHATSAPP GROUP CHAT: “Elemental Fam 😎✨” (Taufan renamed it.) 

Taufan 🌪: GUYSSS has anyone seen my headphone??

Blaze 🔥: u mean the one HALILINTAR stepped on??

Halilintar ⚡: I tepped on it because it was in the middle of the hallway. Not my fault your brain functions like a blender.

Taufan 🌪: WOW OKAY I take that back pls unground me

Gempa 🪨: Why is no one talking about Duri?

Ais 🧊: Talking is exhausting.

Gempa 🪨: Ais.

Ais 🧊: Fine. Duri’s smiling too much. It’s creepy.

Solar ☀️: Yeah. He’s… different.

Blaze 🔥: He’s acting happy but feels like a horror movie jump scare

Like he’ll smile then suddenly SNAP—

Duri 🌿: hey guys 😊

did i miss something?

Solar froze.

The typing indicators on the screen

Gempa is typing…

Taufan is typing…

Halilintar is typing…

All disappeared one by one.

Then:

Taufan 🌪: WE WERE TALKING ABOUT HOW IM GONNA FIND BLUETOOTH HEADPHONES 😁👍

Blaze 🔥: YEP 😁👍

Ais 🧊: Cowards.

Solar swallowed.

Solar ☀️: ah— yeah! just stupid stuff.

u doing okay?

A full minute passed.

Then Duri replied:

Duri 🌿: yup!! im good!! super good!!! everything’s great 😊

Solar stared at the message.

That many exclamation marks… wasn’t normal.

Not for Duri.

Back in the real world, 

As Duri walked past Solar toward his room, Solar caught a glimpse of something:

A tiny stack of books Duri had borrowed from his shelf.

Solar’s unfinished manuscript sat on top — the one about loneliness.

It had a small green sticky note on it.

Solar’s breath hitched.

He waited until Duri closed his door.

Then he gently approached the manuscript, lifted the sticky note, and read:

“Do you ever write stories about people who don’t know how to be themselves anymore?”

— D.

Solar’s heart sank.

This wasn’t just reading.

This wasn’t casual interest.

This was Duri trying to tell him something without saying it out loud.

Something he didn’t know how to phrase.

Something he didn’t know if he was allowed to feel.

Solar pressed his palm over his chest, breath unsteady.

Duri… what’s happening to you?

Gempa called out from the hallway.

“Solar. Come here. You need to see something.”

Solar turned.

Gempa’s face was pale.

Halilintar stood silently behind him.

And in Gempa’s hand…

Was something that looked faintly familiar.

Solar stepped closer, heart pounding.

Gempa whispered:

“They were in Duri’s drawer.”

Solar froze.

It was a crumpled sheet of paper.

Covered in lines of writing.

Lines that looked nothing like Duri’s handwriting.

But the words—

Solar’s chest tightened painfully.

The words on the page were:

“I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“Please… someone tell me.”

“I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to stay.”

“But I can’t feel anything.”

And at the bottom, one line—

the one that made Solar’s world go silent—

“If disappearing is easier… is it wrong to want that?”

Solar’s hands shook.

Duri’s cheerful laughter echoed faintly from behind his closed door.

Chapter Text

Gempa set the paper carefully on the table like it was something dangerous.

Or fragile.

Solar’s eyes stayed locked on the handwriting — uneven, shaky, like every word was written through exhaustion.

Halilintar folded his arms, thunder humming faintly under his skin out of instinct. “We have to talk to him,” he said, voice low. “Now.”

Gempa shook his head. “No. Not like this. Not when he’s acting so… fragile.”

Taufan poked his head into the hallway, upside-down for some reason. “Guys? Why are we whispering dramatically? Is it a meeting? Are we finally kicking Blaze out—”

“Hey!!” Blaze yelled from somewhere in the kitchen.

Solar didn’t laugh.

He couldn’t.

His eyes stung as he stared at the last line on the crumpled page:

“If disappearing is easier… is it wrong to want that?”

Ais appeared silently beside them — no footsteps, no warning, just poof.

Like depression dressed in pajamas and slipper socks.

He glanced at the note, yawned once, then said flatly:

“…He’s bad.”

Solar looked at him sharply. “Bad?”

Ais nodded. “Like… cold-inside bad.”

Solar whispered, “You felt it?”

“I feel… everything,” Ais mumbled, eyelids drooping. “Even the emotions people try to freeze.”

That hit Solar like an invisible punch.

Duri’s laughter echoed faintly from his room — light, cheerful, animated.

Solar’s heartbeat thudded painfully.

That sound wasn’t real anymore.

For dinner, Gempa cooked curry. Blaze tried to “help” and nearly set a towel on fire. Ais fell asleep with his face on the table. Taufan broke three plates and swore on the fourth.

And Duri?

Duri acted completely normal.

He laughed at Blaze’s antics. Complimented the food. Told a dumb joke about a cactus trying to hug people. His smile didn’t waver once.

But Solar sat across from him, stomach sinking deeper each second.

He kept seeing the paper in his head.

He kept hearing Duri’s handwriting.

I can’t feel anything.

I’m trying to stay.

Is it wrong to want to disappear?

Duri caught Solar staring and tilted his head slightly.

“Something wrong, Solar?”

Solar jolted. “N-No! Just thinking.”

Duri smiled that perfect, too-wide smile.

“About a new story?”

Solar swallowed. “Yeah.”

Duri’s eyes sparkled — not with joy, but with something sharper. Something desperate.

“Will you let me read it?”

His voice was quiet. Too earnest. Like he needed the story the way people needed air.

Solar froze.

“Sure,” he whispered.

Duri’s smile grew brighter.

Too bright.

WhatsApp Group Chat: “Elemental Fam 😎✨”

Gempa 🪨: no one talk to duri too directly. act normal.

Blaze 🔥: ACT NORMAL??? HAVE YOU MET ME???

Halilintar ⚡: Blaze, please. For once in your life. Try.

Blaze 🔥: 😭😭😭

Taufan 🌪: so what do we do??

Ais 🧊: breathe. observe. don’t panic.

Solar ☀️: i want to talk to him.

Gempa 🪨: not yet. he’s masking hard. we corner him, we might break him.

Solar stared at that last message.

Break him.

The idea made Solar’s whole body go cold.

That night

Solar couldn’t sleep.

He paced outside the shared corridor, clutching his notebook against his chest. He kept thinking of Duri’s laugh at dinner — too sharp, too bright, like a light bulb flickering before it burns out.

Maybe he should talk to him now. Maybe it’d be better than waiting.

Solar hesitated at Duri’s door.

The house was mostly quiet — Blaze snored like a chainsaw on vacation, Ais was sleep-talking about ethics, and Taufan mumbled something about fighting a tornado.

Solar raised his fist to knock.

Stopped.

Pressed his ear gently against the wood.

…silence.

Then—

A breath.

Shaky.

Wet.

Soft.

Solar froze.

Duri’s crying.

Very quietly.

Very carefully.

Like he didn’t want the world to hear.

Solar’s chest ached.

He wanted to go in.

He wanted to hold him.

He wanted to ask him why his smile was so broken now.

But Gempa’s warning echoed in his mind:

“If he’s masking this hard, he’s close to snapping.”

Solar lowered his hand.

“I’m here,” he whispered through the door.

Duri’s breathing stopped for a moment.

Then resumed — softer now. Hiding.

Solar pressed his forehead to the door.

“I’m here,” he repeated.

But he didn’t know if Duri heard him.

Or if the person behind the door even believed he deserved to be heard.

The next morning, Solar found something slipped under his bedroom door.

A note.

Duri’s handwriting.

Just a single sentence:

“If I smile enough… will I become someone worth keeping?”

Solar’s heart broke cleanly in two.

Chapter Text

Duri didn’t appear for breakfast.

Not in the kitchen.

Not in the garden.

Not in the living room.

Blaze yelped when he realized no one had tossed him a pancake yet.

Taufan spun in a chair and nearly toppled over.

Ais sat upright in his usual half-asleep daze.

Gempa rubbed his temples.

Halilintar frowned.

“Where is he?” Solar asked quietly, voice cracking slightly.

Gempa shook his head. “I don’t know. His room is empty. The window’s closed.”

Solar’s chest tightened.

Every second stretched into eternity.

He didn’t even consider calling out — he was frozen, waiting, knowing deep down Duri wasn’t hiding somewhere simple.

Solar retreated to his room.

His notebook opened. Pen ready.

Words spilled faster than his trembling hand could keep up.

“If you can’t feel anything… it doesn’t mean you’re not alive. If you hide, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed. I will find you, Duri. Even if you disappear, even if you isolate yourself, even if you stop being ‘you’… I will keep writing for you.”

The paper began to blur from ink smears and sweat.

His eyes stung.

His back ached.

His stomach growled.

He didn’t care.

Solar whispered, “If only you’d read this… if only you’d hear me… please, Duri…”

He kept writing.

And writing.

And writing.

Duri had vanished quietly.

No explanations.

No notes.

No cries.

Just… gone.

He sat in the tiny garden shed, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight.

His chest rose and fell shallowly, mechanically.

The notebook Solar had given him was open on the floor. He hadn’t touched it.

Everything felt muted.

Colors seemed drained.

Even the chirping birds sounded hollow.

Duri whispered to the walls:

“…I don’t know who I am. I… I just don’t want to be seen. I don’t want to be wrong. I don’t want to… hurt anyone.”

His voice was almost inaudible.

Hollow. Empty. Broken.

The mask — the perfect smile he wore for everyone else — had crumbled completely.

But in its place was… nothing.

The most terrifying nothing.

Hours passed.

The house was eerily quiet.

Solar’s pen scratched furiously.

Notebook pages stacked higher.

He had forgotten to eat.

Forgotten to drink.

Forgotten to breathe properly.

His hands shook.

Vision blurred.

Head throbbed like a drum.

And still… he wrote.

“Duri… I can’t find you, but I will. I will reach you. You’re allowed to exist. You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to be alive. Please, come back to me. Please… please…”

The ink smeared.

His arms ached.

His chest felt like it might collapse.

And somewhere, deep inside, he knew:

He was pushing himself to the edge.

He didn’t care.

He couldn’t stop.

Duri peeked out from the shed window.

He saw Solar sitting at his desk, hunched over pages, trembling, fevered, exhausted… completely immersed.

His chest tightened.

A quiet pang he barely recognized—fear for Solar.

But Duri didn’t move.

He whispered to himself:

“…I’m hiding. But… I can’t let him see me like this. Not yet. Not like this…”

And as he ducked back inside, the ground beneath the shed trembled faintly — a subtle sign of his powers, quietly reacting to his internal storm.

Solar’s pen froze mid-word.

And the house felt heavier.

Quieter.

Deadly in its silence.

The house had gone quiet after Solar fainted.

Halilintar carried him to his room, Gempa stayed near the door in case he woke up confused again, and the others lingered around the house, uneasy.

But Solar didn’t rest.

Not really.

He woke up with a pounding head and a heavier heart.

His first thought wasn’t about himself.

It was Duri.

Solar sat up slowly, rubbing his forehead.

The room swayed a little, but the ache in his chest was much stronger.

Images flashed back—

Duri snapping.

Duri’s voice shaking.

Duri’s eyes empty.

Solar’s stomach twisted.

He couldn’t stay still.

Even though Gempa told him to rest, even though Halilintar had looked him in the eye and said,

“You need to breathe first”,

Solar slipped out of bed.

He had to see Duri.

Not to talk—just to… understand.

Just to know why Duri had looked so lost this morning.

He quietly climbed the stairs and approached Duri’s bedroom door.

There was no sound inside.

He hesitated only a second before gently turning the knob.

It wasn’t locked.

The room was dim, almost suffocatingly so.

Solar’s eyes adjusted slowly…

And then he saw him.

Duri sat curled on the corner of his bed, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, shoulders trembling ever so slightly.

His usual bright, sunshine-like grin was nowhere in sight.

Instead, his expression looked…

…like someone who had been crying quietly for hours.

…like someone who had been fighting alone for too long.

…like someone who didn’t know how to be himself anymore.

Solar’s breath caught.

He had seen Duri sad before, hurt before.

But this—

This was a hollow, aching kind of stillness he had never seen in his brother.

Duri didn’t notice him.

His eyes were unfocused, staring at the floor with a distant, haunted look.

Then Solar heard it.

A whisper.

Small, broken.

“…I’m such a failure…”

“…why can’t I just be normal…”

“…why do I ruin everything…”

“…I’m not worth it…”

Solar froze.

His heart dropped straight to the floor.

He thinks he’s worthless?

He thinks he ruins everything?

He thinks he’s a failure?

Something inside Solar cracked open.

He didn’t step inside.

He didn’t want to startle him.

He just… listened in horror.

Duri’s breathing grew unsteady.

His voice shook.

“I hate myself… I hate myself so much…”

Solar covered his mouth with a trembling hand.

He had never felt pain this sharp in his life.

Not from battles.

Not from training.

Not from injuries.

This was different.

This was heartbreak.

Duri continued whispering, unaware of Solar’s presence:

“I don’t deserve any of them… I don’t deserve him… I don’t deserve—”

Solar couldn’t take it.

He slowly closed the door, knees nearly giving out as he leaned against the wall outside.

He didn’t cry.

Not yet.

He just breathed shakily, heart pounding against his ribs.

Duri is… this bad.

He’s been hurting this much.

I didn’t notice. I didn’t see it. I didn’t help him.

Solar squeezed his hands into trembling fists.

He made a silent promise.

He was going to save Duri.

No matter what it took.

No matter how much he had to sacrifice.

No matter how hard it became.

Even if the others didn’t believe in him, even if he broke down again—

Solar refused to let Duri fall deeper into that darkness.

He would hold him.

He would reach him.

He would write something powerful enough to make Duri feel again, smile again, breathe again.

This was the moment everything changed.

And Solar’s determination ignited.

A fragile, reckless, burning flame.

Solar went straight to his room.

He didn’t stop to talk to anyone.

Didn’t eat.

Didn’t drink.

He closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment, gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles whitened.

He could still hear Duri’s voice.

“I’m not worth it…”

“I hate myself…”

“…I don’t deserve any of them…”

Those words dug into Solar’s chest until breathing hurt.

He slid down the door and sat on the floor, holding his head in his hands.

I didn’t know… I didn’t see it… I should have noticed… I should have understood…

I should have helped him sooner.

He wiped his face roughly, forcing himself to stand.

He crossed the room, went to his desk, and picked up the draft he had crumpled earlier—the emotional story he had meant for Duri.

He flattened the paper with shaking fingers.

His thoughts sharpened, burning.

This story… this can save him.

It has to.

If I can write something he feels… something he sees himself in… something that reaches him…

He grabbed a pen.

Then another.

Then a notebook.

He didn’t care about the mess.

He sat at the desk and began scribbling.

Line after line.

Paragraph after paragraph.

Scene after scene.

Writing so fast his hand cramped.

He didn’t notice the passing time.

Didn’t notice the ache in his wrist.

Didn’t notice how his eyes blurred from staring too long.

He only heard Duri’s voice looping endlessly in his mind.

“I’m a failure.”

No you’re not.

“I ruin everything.”

You don’t.

“I don’t deserve him…”

You deserve the whole world.

Solar wrote until his handwriting became almost unreadable.

He tore through pages, tore through drafts, tore through the limits of what his tired body could handle.

At one point, he pressed the pen so hard that the tip snapped. He blinked, confused, then immediately reached for another one without stopping.

The room felt far away.

His heartbeat loud.

His thoughts frantic.

This isn’t enough.

It has to be better.

It has to be perfect.

He started over.

Then again.

And again.

Scenes blurred.

Words tangled.

But Solar didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

Because if he stopped—

He would hear Duri again.

Crying.

Isolated.

Hating himself.

Solar’s hand trembled as he flipped another page.

Outside his room, footsteps approached.

Someone knocked softly.

“Solar? You should rest.”

Gempa’s voice.

Solar froze.

Then quietly shoved the papers under his arm, hiding them, as if they were fragile pieces of Duri’s heart he wasn’t ready to show anyone.

“I’m fine,” Solar forced out.

His voice cracked slightly.

“You don’t sound fine,” Gempa said gently.

Solar’s grip on the notebook tightened until the edges dug into his skin.

“I just need to finish something,” he whispered.

A pause.

“Solar… don’t push yourself.”

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t move.

Gempa sighed quietly through the door.

“…We’re all worried about you. And about Duri. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Solar shut his eyes.

Alone.

That word cut deep.

Gempa walked away, the soft echo of his footsteps fading.

Solar slowly sat back down at his desk.

He picked up his pen.

He whispered to himself—even softer, almost afraid of his own voice:

“If I don’t do this… no one else will reach him.”

“I have to save him.”

“I have to.”

The lamp flickered.

Solar kept writing.

Even as his vision blurred.

Even as his hand cramped.

Even as exhaustion crept in like a shadow.

The obsession had officially begun.

This was the first night he didn’t sleep.

Chapter Text

The morning sun leaked through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.

It should have been warm. Comforting.

But Solar’s room was cold.

Not because of his powers — but because he hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t stopped.

The desk was covered in crumpled papers, splattered ink, half-finished thoughts.

Sentences crossed out violently.

Pages ripped from frustration.

Solar sat hunched over it all, hair a mess, fingers stained with ink, eyes burning red with fatigue. A small, frustrated grunt escaped his shaky lips. 

"Kh...!" His hands shook as he wrote another line:

“Even if you feel nothing, Duri… I’m still here. Please just stay.”

He stared at the words.

They didn’t look right.

None of them looked right.

Nothing he wrote felt like enough to reach Duri or himself.

Solar grabbed the paper, tore it out, crushed it in his fist, threw it aside.

He grabbed another page and tried again.

His breathing was uneven.

He blinked rapidly, trying to see past the blur in his eyes.

“Just… one more line,” he whispered.

“Just one more. Duri needs this. I know he does. I have to finish. I have to get it right. If I mess this up, he’ll— he’ll…”

His voice broke.

He slammed his pen against the desk, gripping his hair with both hands.

“I’m not losing him… I’m not losing him too.”

The room swayed for a moment.

He steadied himself with a trembling exhale.

Then the house shook slightly — barely noticeable, like a soft ripple beneath the floorboards.

Solar’s heart skipped.

He froze.

“…Duri?”

But there was no answer — only the faint sounds of Blaze and Taufan arguing downstairs.

Solar wiped his burning eyes, grabbed the newest stack of pages (still messy, still unfinished), and forced himself to stand.

He needed to check on him.

He had to check on him.

He stepped toward the door.

And downstairs… fate was already ready to crack open.

The house buzzed with the usual post-breakfast chaos.

Blaze was washing dishes aggressively (which meant Gempa was standing behind him ready to catch every dish he inevitably dropped).

Ais shuffled around with a mug of ice water, still half-asleep.

Halilintar was wiping the counter, trying — begging — for a single moment of peace.

Duri sat on the couch, hugging a cushion.

Smiling.

Perfectly fine.

Or so he said.

But his leg bounced nonstop.

His fingers tapped his arm in an anxious rhythm.

His eyes didn’t focus on anything.

Taufan, spinning a pencil between his fingers, watched quietly from the armchair.

Taufan might have acted like a walking hurricane…

But he wasn’t stupid.

He saw everything.

He leaned forward with a frown. “Duri?”

Duri looked up.

His smile brightened instantly — too instantly.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“You good?” Taufan asked simply.

Duri blinked. “Huh? Yeah! Totally!”

Taufan didn’t look convinced.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said, softer this time.

His voice carried none of his usual playfulness — only genuine worry.

“What’s going on with you?”

Duri froze.

Just for a second.

His smile flickered — like a flame struggling against wind.

Gempa glanced over from the kitchen.

Halilintar stopped wiping the counter.

Ais looked up from his mug.

The entire house suddenly held its breath.

Duri laughed a little too loudly. “Taufan, I’m fine! Really! Nothing’s wrong—”

“But you’re shaking,” Taufan said quietly.

Duri’s smile faltered again.

His hands instinctively gripped the cushion tighter.

“I’m not.”

He forced a laugh.

“See? Totally fine!”

Taufan stood from the chair.

“Duri… we’re your brothers. You can tell us—”

“I SAID I’M FINE!”

The voice didn’t sound like Duri.

It cracked.

Sharp.

Raw.

Filled with panic, pain, and exhaustion.

Everyone froze.

Duri’s chest rose and fell rapidly.

His fingers dug into the cushion like he needed something to anchor him.

Taufan’s expression softened immediately. “Duri… hey, hey, I didn’t mean—”

“Stop asking!” Duri snapped again.

His breathing grew jagged.

His eyes shook — wide, terrified, cornered.

“Stop looking at me like something’s wrong! Nothing’s wrong, okay?! Nothing is— I just— I’m fine! I’m supposed to be fine— I’m—”

He cut himself off with a choked gasp.

Gempa took a cautious step forward. “Duri, calm down. No one is attacking you.”

“I’M TRYING!” Duri’s voice cracked painfully. “I’m trying to be okay! I’m trying so hard— I don’t— I don’t know what you want me to say— I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel— I— I—”

His words dissolved into broken breathing.

The mask shattered.

Right there. In front of everyone.

Solar reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see Duri collapse inward.

He stopped dead in place, heart pounding violently.

Ink-stained fingers curled into fists at his sides.

Solar whispered, voice trembling:

“…Duri?”

Duri whipped around — and the moment their eyes met, something in him broke entirely.

His expression twisted into fear.

Shame.

Self-loathing.

Like being seen was the worst thing that could happen to him.

“I— I didn’t mean— I wasn’t— I’m sorry—”

His voice cracked.

He stumbled backward, clutching his head as if the world was too loud.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry—!”

“Duri—!” Solar took a step toward him.

Duri flinched violently.

He turned and bolted.

Ran down the hallway.

Door slammed shut.

Silence swallowed the house.

Solar’s breath hitched.

His vision blurred.

His fingers twitched uncontrollably.

He whispered, horrified:

“… Damn it…”

Gempa exhaled shakily.

Taufan’s hands trembled.

Ais quietly lowered his mug.

Halilintar’s thunder flickered once.

Nobody said a word.

Because every single one of them realized the same terrifying truth:

Duri was breaking.

And they didn’t know how to stop it.

Solar dragged himself to the dinner table like a puppet missing half its strings.

His hair was messy—flatter than usual—and the dark circles under his eyes made his light-element glow look dull, like a lamp running out of battery. Gempa looked up first, brows furrowing. Ais blinked slowly. Halilintar’s fork paused mid-air.

But the loudest reaction came from Blaze.

“Woah—Solar, dude, you look like a ghost,” Blaze barked a laugh. “Did you crawl out of a grave on your way here or—”

Solar didn’t laugh.

Not even a crack of a smile.

Not even his usual little huff that told everyone he appreciated the joke even if he was too tired to react outwardly.

Nothing.

The absence of reaction sucked the sound out of the room.

Blaze’s grin fell. “Uh… Sol?”

Solar didn’t hear him—not really. His eyes were glazed over, staring at the empty spot where Duri always sat. The space looked wrong without him. Too quiet. Too normal. As if Duri hadn’t snapped—hadn’t broken—this morning.

But he did.

Solar saw it.

Solar heard it.

The crack in Duri’s voice.

The way his emotions exploded like a thorn bush tearing itself apart.

The way his mask finally failed him and everyone saw the raw mess underneath.

And here Solar was… still writing.

Still forcing himself to carve the “perfect” scene.

Still trying to fix something he didn’t understand.

Taufan nudged him gently. “Bro… you’re not eating.”

Solar looked down. His food was untouched.

He forced his fork up, his hand trembling from the hours he’d been writing—scribbling—scrapping—rewriting. His brain wouldn’t shut up. Every time he blinked, he saw Duri’s face in the hallway, the moment it twisted in pain, in anger, in exhaustion.

I made him snap.

Solar swallowed hard. His throat felt too small.

He thought he could help Duri with a story.

He thought he could build him a world to rest in.

He thought he could write him something that would make him feel seen.

Instead, he was losing himself in the process.

Overworking.

Obsession gnawing his mind like hunger.

Duri wasn’t here.

He didn’t come down for dinner.

He didn’t answer anyone calling him.

He didn’t even make noise from his room.

Solar’s chest tightened painfully.

He stabbed a piece of rice too hard; it scattered across the plate.

Gempa noticed. “Solar… you okay?”

Solar blinked again. His vision faded in and out like a glitching screen. The sound of his brothers’ voices warped behind the ringing in his ears.

He mumbled—barely audible—“I’m fine.”

No one believed him.

Halilintar exchanged a look with Gempa. Ais quietly put an extra spoonful of vegetables onto Solar’s plate. Blaze didn’t joke again. Taufan’s foot nudged Solar’s under the table, trying to bring him back to reality.

But Solar wasn’t at dinner.

Solar was inside the story he was trying to write—

and in that story, Duri was breaking.

And Solar didn’t know how to fix it.

Or if he even could.

The living room was quiet in that odd, tense way a house becomes when it’s holding its breath.

Gempa and Halilintar sat side by side on the couch, voices low and careful.

Ais was slouched in the corner, half-awake but observant as always.

Taufan and Blaze fidgeted, unsure whether to break the silence with jokes or simply watch.

“I've never seen him like this,” Gempa said, fingers drumming against the armrest. “He’s always been able to hide it… until this morning.”

Halilintar frowned, lightning flickering faintly along his shoulders. “Hiding only works until the mask cracks. This morning… it wasn’t a crack. It was a collapse.”

Ais sipped slowly from his mug, setting it down with a heavy hand. “He needs space. But we can’t just ignore it either. It’s dangerous.”

Taufan, fidgeting nervously, finally spoke. “So… what do we do? Talk to him? Let him… I dunno… scream or something?”

“Is it really safe?” Halilintar said quietly. “Just... watching as Duri losing himself more and more?"

Blaze muttered, voice almost too soft: “I just want him to stop hurting…”

None of them noticed Solar in the doorway at first.

He had come downstairs silently, gripping the back of a chair as if it were a lifeline. His hair hung in messy strands over his eyes. His movements were slow, heavy, trembling.

Every sound—Blaze muttering, Taufan shuffling, Gempa’s knuckles drumming—rang in his ears like a bell tolling in an empty cathedral.

Every color—light filtering through the window, the blue of the couch, the green of the plants in the corner—blurred and faded into a surreal haze.

His legs shook beneath him.

Halilintar caught it in the corner of his eye.

“Solar…” he murmured. His voice low, careful. But Solar didn’t hear him.

Solar took a shaky step forward, then another. His fingers gripped the edge of the table. His chest tightened painfully. Every thought about Duri, about the story, about this morning… it pressed on him like lead.

Then, without warning, his legs gave out.

He collapsed forward.

Time slowed.

Halilintar’s lightning flared, and in a heartbeat he was in front of Solar, teleporting with perfect precision. He caught him mid-fall, cradling him gently in his arms so Solar didn’t hit the ground.

Solar’s eyelids fluttered. His breathing was ragged. His head rested against Halilintar’s chest, heavy and unsteady. He whimpered softly, words failing him.

Halilintar held him tightly, whispering quietly, voice low and grounding. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Just breathe…”

Gempa rushed forward, placing a hand on Solar’s shoulder, steadying him further. Ais stayed close, still sipping quietly, eyes sharp. Taufan and Blaze gave a respectful distance, no jokes, no commentary—just space.

And in the quiet hallway… in the room upstairs, Duri sat alone.

The room was dim.

Curtains drawn.

Only the faint morning light seeped through the edges, painting thin lines across the floor.

Duri sat on the edge of his bed, knees pressed to his chest, fingers clutching the notebook Solar had been writing for him. The pages were still pristine—untouched, unread—but the weight of them pressed on him like a physical thing.

He swallowed hard.

The memory of this morning kept repeating.

Taufan’s gentle voice.

But he snapped.

The way everyone had stared, frozen, as his mask finally failed.

I broke in front of them.

I ruined everything.

Guilt settled in first, cold and heavy.

Guilt that he hadn’t been “perfect.”

Guilt that Solar—Solar, who had worked himself to exhaustion for him—had to see that side of him.

Guilt that he had allowed himself to lose control, to show weakness.

His breathing quickened.

The guilt became a tight spiral in his chest, curling into panic.

Panic that he might have irreversibly damaged things.

Panic that Solar might stop trying to help him.

Panic that the family might quietly judge him, might secretly resent him, might… hate him.

Damaged, stopped (wanting) help, resent, hate... It rhymed so well with him. 

So... disgusting.

The panic morphed into anger.

At Taufan, for asking a simple question.

At himself, for not being able to answer it.

At the world, for expecting him to hold it together, to smile, to breathe, to be “okay” when he wasn’t.

And finally… the anger turned inward.

Self-hatred, sharp as thorns.

This is stupid. I'm stupid. Everything I feel88 is just so USELESS.

Duri’s hands clenched the notebook so tightly the edges bent.

He pressed his face into his knees, shivering.

Somewhere in the quiet of his isolation, his phone vibrated.

WhatsApp – “Elemental Fam 😎✨”

Gempa 🪨: Solar’s been overworking. Make sure he rests. He needs proper food and sleep.

Halilintar ⚡: He can’t help anyone if he collapses.

Ais 🧊: Please. Encourage him to slow down.

Taufan 🤙: Yeah, ghost-Solar can’t save Duri if he keels over…

Blaze 🔥: Someone get him to eat. Or at least drink water.

Duri saw it.

Guilt twisted tighter.

Solar… he’s still trying… because of me… because I’m a mess… and now he’s collapsing because of me. I can’t—

Panic rose higher.

He pressed his forehead into his knees again.

Breathing became uneven.

Anger erupted.

I hate myself. I hate myself for being so weak. I hate myself for letting this happen. I hate that I can’t be better for him. I hate that I…

And the self-hatred, vicious and total, consumed him.

Duri’s chest burned. His hands shook. His voice cracked in small, strangled murmurs:

“... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry. Forgive me."

The room felt smaller.

The walls seemed to press closer. 

And outside, the house went on quietly.

Solar rested, guided by his brothers’ warnings.

But Duri was trapped in his own storm, alone.

Still pushing everyone away.