Quinn jolted awake, her heart racing, the familiar dampness of tears streaking down her cheeks. The dream—again. It was always the same.
The man, his face blurry, like a figure fading in and out of focus, haunted her every night. He would speak the same words in a voice both distant and intimate: "I'll find you. I always will."
It played on a loop, like a broken record lodged in the depths of her mind. The worst part was the ache that accompanied it—a deep, inexplicable longing that tugged at her chest, leaving her restless.
Since the age of six, these dreams had been a constant, and now, at seventeen, they were as much a part of her as the air she breathed. But the sadness—the emptiness—never went away.
The morning light filtered into her room as she sat up, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.
She sighed, feeling the lingering weight of the dream press against her. She tried not to think about it, pushing it to the back of her mind as she dressed for school. Soccer practice was the only thing that ever managed to clear her thoughts.
As long as she kept moving, running across the field with the wind in her hair and the ball at her feet, she could forget about the dreams—at least for a little while.
"Hey, Quinn!" Chronicles waved her over as they met up near the school entrance. Azumi stood beside her, a warm smile on her face. They were her closest friends, the ones who had stuck by her through all the weirdness, even though they never quite understood the things she was going through.
They were laughing about something, probably a joke she had missed, but when they noticed the look on her face, they quieted down.
"Rough night?" Azumi asked, her tone light but with a hint of concern.
"Yeah," Quinn replied, rubbing the back of her neck. "Same dream again."
"You and your dreams," Chronicles teased, nudging her playfully. "At least it keeps things interesting, right?"
Quinn smiled, but it was half-hearted. As they walked toward the soccer field, the familiar path under their feet, something was still nagging at her. She glanced between her two friends, wondering if they ever felt the same way she did.
The loneliness, the sense of something missing. She hesitated before speaking, her voice quieter than usual. "Do you guys ever feel like... something's off? Like, in your life?"
Azumi and Chronicles exchanged a look, their expressions puzzled. "Off? How do you mean?" Azumi asked.
"I don’t know, it’s hard to explain," Quinn said, struggling to find the right words. "It’s like… like there's something missing. Or like something’s not right, but I can't figure out what it is."
Chronicles raised an eyebrow, then burst out laughing, not in mockery but in genuine amusement. "Quinn, you're always thinking too deeply. You're probably just overanalyzing things."
"Yeah, exactly!" Azumi chimed in, giggling. "Maybe you need to stop with the deep questions and just relax. Life's not that complicated."
Quinn forced a laugh, but the feeling of unease lingered. Maybe they were right—maybe she was overthinking things. But still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong, not just with herself, but with them too. There was an uncertainty in their laughter, an almost subconscious hesitation.
Was it possible that they felt it too but were too afraid to admit it? She didn’t know. She didn’t understand why she felt so disconnected, so alone even when surrounded by her friends.
Just as they neared the soccer field, Quinn felt a strange sensation wash over her. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she slowed her pace, her attention pulled in a direction she couldn’t explain. Then it happened—a man walked swiftly past her, so sudden and unexpected that she nearly gasped.
The air stirred as he moved, brushing against her skin like an electric current, sending a jolt of something unfamiliar through her. She stopped in her tracks, her heart racing, and for a split second, she thought she recognized him.
But when she turned to look, he was already gone, his figure disappearing into the distance. A chill ran after her veins, and her mind buzzed with confusion. Who was he? And why did his presence feel so… significant?
It was as though something deep within her had stirred, as though the blurry man from her dreams had somehow materialized in the real world. She shook her head, trying to clear the strange thoughts from her mind, but the feeling lingered.
"Quinn, you okay?" Chronicles called from ahead, noticing that she had stopped walking.
She blinked, forcing herself to move again, though her legs felt heavy. "Yeah, I’m fine," she said, though her voice wavered slightly. "Just… thought I saw someone I knew."
Azumi frowned but shrugged it off. "Weird. Let’s get going before we’re late."
As they walked onto the soccer field, Quinn couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.
The dream, the strange man, the sense of longing in her chest—it all felt connected somehow, like pieces of a puzzle she didn’t have the ability to solve yet.
As time passed, the weight of Quinn's longing only grew. Her friends, Azumi and Chronicles, began to notice the change in her demeanor more and more. She was quieter, often lost in thought, her eyes distant.
At first, they had brushed it off as stress—everyone had their worries with graduation approaching. But as the weeks turned into months, they, too, began to feel something strange.
An unspoken, nagging sensation that something was missing in their lives. It wasn’t as intense as Quinn's, but there was a growing sense of unease among them.
"Quinn, are you sure you’re okay?" Azumi asked one afternoon as they sat together in the courtyard. The cherry blossoms fluttered down in the breeze, their pink petals swirling around them like a dream.
Quinn nodded, but her voice was soft. "I’m fine, really."
Chronicles, who was sitting beside her, frowned. "You don’t seem fine. We’ve all felt it, you know. This weird feeling, like we’ve lost something, but we can’t figure out what it is. But with you, it’s like... you know what it is. Or you’re closer to it than we are."
Quinn glanced down at her hands, unable to meet their eyes. How could she explain the truth? That she had already lost everything, long before any of them even knew it?
The dream, the man, the inexplicable sadness—it was all a reminder of a world she couldn’t fully remember. A life that had slipped through her fingers, but still lingered in her heart. "I wish I could explain," she whispered, "but I don’t even know where to start."
Azumi reached over and squeezed her hand. "We’re here for you, Quinn. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together."
Graduation day came faster than any of them had expected. It coincided with the annual city festival, a time of celebration and new beginnings. Quinn wore a beautiful red kimono, her long hair styled elegantly with a delicate headdress. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness.
This was supposed to be a joyous occasion, but the weight of everything she had been carrying made it hard to fully embrace the moment.
That evening, she met with Azumi and Chronicles to celebrate the festival. The streets were filled with people, laughter, and the smell of delicious food from the many stalls lining the roads.
They roamed through the festival, buying souvenirs and snacks, their laughter blending with the lively atmosphere around them. For a brief moment, Quinn allowed herself to get lost in the happiness of it all, forgetting the emptiness that had haunted her for so long.
"Look at these hairdressers!" Azumi exclaimed, pulling Quinn toward a stall filled with beautifully crafted hair ornaments. "You should get one to go with your kimono."
Quinn smiled and picked up a delicate comb adorned with tiny red flowers, turning it over in her hand.
But as she looked up, her gaze wandered toward a small, dusty antique store across the street. Something inside caught her attention—an object that made her heart stop.
"A timepiece?" she murmured, barely aware that she had spoken aloud.
Chronicles noticed her hesitation and followed her gaze. "What is it, Quinn?"
Without answering, Quinn stepped away from the stall and crossed the street, her eyes fixed on the object inside the store’s window. It was an old, intricately designed pocket watch—its surface worn with age but somehow familiar.
A wave of recognition washed over her, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. This was the same timepiece from her dreams, from the fragmented memories she could never fully grasp. How could it be here, in this place, in this time?
Azumi and Chronicles joined her by the window, their expressions confused.
"I didn't know you like antiques," Azumi laughed gently.
Quinn's hand hovered just above the glass, her heart pounding in her chest.
"I think I do," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "There's something about it that makes my heart... ache."
Her friends exchanged worried glances but said nothing. They could see the way her eyes fixated on the timepiece, as though it held the answer to all the questions she had been asking.
Every part of her was drawn to it, the familiar curves of the worn metal, the intricate design—everything about it called to something deep inside her.
She was about to step inside the shop for a closer look when the sky above erupted in a brilliant display of color. Fireworks shot up into the air, their crackling sounds followed by bursts of vivid reds, blues, and golds, illuminating the entire festival.
Azumi and Chronicles let out excited gasps, immediately tugging at Quinn's arm, pulling her away from the shop.
"Come on, Quinn! The fireworks are starting!" Chronicles exclaimed, his eyes reflecting the light from above.
Quinn hesitated for a moment, torn between the magnetic pull of the timepiece and the vibrant display in the sky. But as the fireworks exploded in dazzling patterns, painting the night with shimmering lights, she found herself swept up in the magic of the moment.
The sky seemed to pulse with life, every burst of light chasing away the darkness, if only for a few seconds. The colors reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, she felt like a child again, free of the weight that constantly bore down on her.
Azumi and Chronicles stood by her side, pointing at the sky, their laughter blending with the sound of the crowd cheering around them.
As they walked further away from the antique shop, the door creaked open, and a man stepped out onto the street. He seemed to be the owner, his presence quiet yet commanding.
His blonde hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes, though distant, held a certain familiarity—something Quinn might have recognized if she had only looked back. He glanced toward the spot where she had just been standing, as if sensing her presence. There was something about him that felt significant, almost like he was part of the missing puzzle Quinn had been trying to piece together.
But it was too late; she was already gone, drawn away by the fireworks, leaving behind the timepiece and the man who, for some reason, felt like he had always belonged in her life.