True Light

The boy stood by the window of his empty classroom, his eyes drawn to the distant mountains and the clouds that lazily drifted across the sky. It was tiffin break, and the lively chatter of students filled the halls and playground outside. Yet here he was, alone, his gaze lost in the vastness of the scenery. The mountains seemed so close, yet so far, and the clouds... they were mesmerizing, like a painting that could never be touched, only admired from a distance.

He sighed, turning back to the room that was his regular sanctuary. Desks stood in neat rows, books and papers scattered about, but the silence was almost suffocating. The weight of solitude pressed on his chest as he looked around, realizing that the place that usually brought him comfort now felt cold and distant.

His eyes drifted downward to the school grounds outside. Children were playing, their laughter and shouts barely audible through the glass. They were free, happy, lost in the moment. He could see the grass beneath their feet, the dirt kicked up by their carefree running. He raised his hands slightly, as if reaching out to the world beyond the window. For a moment, he imagined himself among them, feeling the earth beneath his feet, the wind in his hair. But then he let his hands fall, the longing in his chest deepening. The world outside seemed so close, yet it was a world he felt he could never truly touch.

The sound of footsteps approaching broke the spell. He turned, startled, to see a friend entering the classroom. The friend smiled at him, a mix of curiosity and concern in their eyes.

"Why aren't you writing? You're always writing," the friend asked, walking closer.

He shrugged, forcing a small smile. "I was bored," he replied, his voice flat, lacking the usual enthusiasm he had for his craft.

"Bored? Of writing?" The friend's brow furrowed in surprise. "That doesn't sound like you."

He hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. How could he explain the restlessness that gnawed at him, the feeling that the words he once found solace in were now failing him? He looked back at the window, at the world beyond, and murmured almost to himself, "True happiness can never last."

The words hung in the air, heavy and somber, as if they carried the weight of a truth he had only just begun to understand. His friend's expression shifted from curiosity to something deeper, something almost pained, but they said nothing, just watched him with those searching eyes.

Time passed, and the scene shifted. They were in a car, driving through a countryside that seemed to stretch on forever. Laughter filled the vehicle as they talked about everything and nothing, the lightness of the moment a stark contrast to the heaviness of the earlier conversation. He was seated in the front, beside the driver, while his friends occupied the back seats, their faces glowing with the joy of the journey.

But that joy was short-lived.

A deer darted across the road, and in the panic that followed, the car swerved violently. His heart leapt into his throat as the vehicle veered off course, crashing into a tree with a sickening crunch. Time seemed to slow as the world spun around him, the impact throwing him forward, then back. His vision blurred, and pain seared through his body.

When the world finally settled, he found himself slumped in his seat, dazed and disoriented. The scent of burning rubber and the metallic tang of blood filled the air. He looked down at his hands, now covered in blood and burns, the skin peeling away in places. The pain was sharp, but somehow distant, as if his mind couldn't fully process what had just happened.

Slowly, reality began to creep back in. He glanced around, his vision still swimming, and saw the wreckage of the car. It was twisted, crumpled, the front end wrapped around the tree. Panic surged through him as he remembered his friends. He struggled to move, his limbs heavy and uncooperative, but he forced himself to turn around, searching desperately for any sign of life.

The sight that met his eyes was one of horror. His friends lay in the back, their bodies battered and broken. Blood stained the seats and the floor, their injuries severe, their breaths shallow and labored. His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned their faces, praying that they were still alive. His gaze landed on the one friend who had spoken to him in the classroom, the only one who seemed conscious, though barely.

His friend's eyes fluttered open, meeting his with a pained expression. "Calm down... I'm fine," they whispered, but the words were laced with agony. A spasm of pain shot through their body, and they grimaced, clutching their chest. It was clear that the injuries were worse than they let on.

Frantic, he fumbled for his phone, his bloody fingers slipping on the screen as he tried to call for help. But there was no signal. The realization hit him like a blow, and he nearly dropped the phone in despair. He was alone, in the middle of nowhere, with no way to save his friends.

Tears blurred his vision as he reached out to his injured friend, trying to offer some kind of comfort. But what could he do? He was helpless, powerless to stop the blood that flowed or the life that ebbed away with each passing second.

In that moment, his friend reached up, their movements weak and shaky, and before he could react, they pulled him close and pressed their lips to his. The kiss was brief, barely a touch, but it sent a shock through his system. He pulled back, stunned, his heart racing for reasons he couldn't fully comprehend.

"You said true happiness could never last..." his friend whispered, their voice barely audible. "So that's true..."

Their eyes fluttered shut, their breath growing shallower by the second. Panic surged in his chest as he tried to keep them conscious, calling their name, begging them to stay awake. But the light in their eyes was fading, and no matter what he did, he could feel them slipping away.

In a last, desperate attempt to keep them with him, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to their cheek. He tried to speak, to say something that would matter, something that would keep them tethered to this world. His lips moved, forming words that were filled with all the emotion he'd been holding back, but his voice was too soft, too broken.

His friend's eyes widened slightly as if they were trying to understand, but the words were lost to them, fading into the haze of unconsciousness. And then, as the last bit of strength left their body, they went still, their hand slipping from his grasp.

He sat there, in the wreckage of the car, his bloody hands trembling, his mind numb with shock. The words he had spoken, whatever they were, hung in the air, unheard and unanswered. And in that silence, all he could think was that his own truth had come back to haunt him—true happiness could never last.