kai

His name was Kai.

He had a striking appearance: dark hair with a contrasting silver-white streak, piercing amber eyes, and sharp features. He maintained a reserved demeanor, as if trying to take up as little space as possible, though his build betrayed a man accustomed to exercise—the firm muscles beneath his loose black T-shirt were visible. But what Kai considered his greatest flaw was hidden beneath the fabric: burn scars on his right arm and by his left eye—uneven, pinkish-purple marks that he'd spent his entire life trying to hide. They were the reason he was afraid to meet people, especially girls: he felt the first thing they'd notice wouldn't be him, but the scars.

One day, Kai was walking in the park with his best friend, Tom. The air was crisp, people were strolling leisurely around, soft music was playing somewhere from outdoor speakers—all in all, the day was turning out to be surprisingly calm. Tom chattered incessantly, trying to rouse Kai, to draw him out of his usual isolation. Then suddenly, he froze, his gaze following someone ahead.

"Look at this guy," Tom nudged Kai in the side and nodded toward the alley. "Come on, meet him. You're so cool when you're not hiding."

Kai couldn't help but follow his gaze and see the same guy: he was walking leisurely, headphones in, with a slight smile, as if the whole world were a friendly place to him. Kai's heart sank—not so much from how attractive he was, but from the very idea that he could just walk up to him and start a conversation. He hesitated, looked down at his hands, and was about to laugh it off, to say it wasn't for him, but this time something inside seemed to resist his usual fear.

“I… I don’t know,” he answered quietly, feeling excitement and a timid desire to try fighting inside him. “What if he looks at my hand and immediately understands everything?”

Tom looked at him softly but persistently:

"What if he sees you? Not the scars, but you—the one who knows how to listen and helps out."