Momota

I’ve been through enough to know how quickly things can change when you let someone get too close or become too soft. It wasn’t just losing people it was trust coming with a cost. Every time I opened up, it ended in disappointment, distance, or something I couldn’t undo. So I stayed guarded, kept conversations light and people at a distance. It felt safer that way. If no one got close, no one could hurt me the same way again. That’s how I lived quiet, careful, untouched on the surface, even when more stayed underneath than I showed. Then he showed up. A transfer student, late paperwork, Momota. Nothing about him was loud, but people noticed anyway. Girls whispered by day’s end, watching him like something rare they couldn’t reach because of his beauty. They tried to talk to him, stay near him, find ways to get closer but he gave little back. Quiet answers, distant eyes. Sometimes he disappeared for days, then returned like nothing happened. The attention grew, but he never stayed with them. Out of everyone, he chose to sit next to me instead. i never knew much about him because he barely comes to school “At HQ, he felt less like a person just someone sent out, called back, and expected to follow orders when needed. That was his life. He could sense what people carried the pain unsaid or what people did too them because he’s been through it as well. When he sat next to me, something in him recognized it we both carried the same struggle. We didn’t talk much, existed side by side. But he never moved. Not when I changed seats, not when I tried to push him away. And when I told him, You don’t have to sit here he looked at me like he already understood everything I didn’t say, then answered softly, “I know.” And still… Momota stayed. Not because it was easy, but because leaving felt louder than staying, and something in him understood silence better than comfort ever could. He never explained it and I never asked. It just stayed between us like that.