When The Lights Go Quiet

❤️CHAPTER 7 — LUMEN POV - PART 2

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CHAPTER 7 — LUMEN POV

PART 2

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You rummage through your wardrobe like you’re fighting for your life, clothes flying everywhere,

shirts, jackets, that one hoodie you never wear but refuse to throw away, even a random Christmas sweater that yells “HO HO HO!” in glitter.

I’m silently staring at the pile forming on the floor.

You pause mid-search, turn to me, narrow your eyes.

“Don’t move.”

I nod instantly, gripping the blanket like it’s a survival item.

I shift my leg the tiniest bit.

“STOP MOVING!”

I freeze.

A beat.

“Baby,” I say slowly, “I’m… just adjusting my knee..."

“YOUR KNEE CAN ADJUST LATER!”

Ah.

I understand now.

You are on the verge of dying from secondhand embarrassment.

You finally find a shirt, oversized, black, soft-looking, and grab a pair of sweatpants that look slightly too small for me.

You stare at the pants.

You stare at me.

You sigh long enough to age five years.

“We’re gonna try. No promises.”

I blink innocently.

“…Promises about what?”

You ignore the question entirely and walk toward me.

“Okay, Lumen. Stand up.”

I gather the blanket, holding it like a cape, and rise slowly.

You gasp loudly.

I panic.

“WHAT? WHAT IS IT?”

My hands clutch the blanket tighter.

You point dramatically.

“YOU... YOU... YOU’RE TOO... TALL!”

I look down at you from above.

“Oh.”

Yes.

I am indeed tall.

Very tall.

Your head barely reaches my chest.

You stare at your own clothes in your hand with despair.

“…We’re gonna pretend size doesn’t exist,” you whisper to yourself.

You shove the shirt at me.

“Put this on.”

I examine it.

It looks complicated.

There is a hole here.

And another here.

And a big one in the middle.

Which is the entrance?

I choose the big hole and shove my head through it,

only to realize I put my head in the sleeve.

You choke.

No— you physically collapse onto your knees, wheezing like life lost all meaning.

“Oh my God ! Lumen ! that’s the SLEEVE ! the— why— how—?!”

I lift my arms helplessly, shirt half-on, half-wrong, my head sticking out of the sleeve like a cursed puppet.

“…The holes confused me.”

You grab the fabric with both hands like an angry kindergarten teacher fixing a disastrous art project.

“No. No. No. HEAD goes in the BIG HOLE. Not the little hole.”

“Understood,” I say solemnly.

I try again.

I put my head in the big hole.

Success.

Then I attempt the sleeves.

But somehow…

I end up with both arms in one sleeve and nothing in the other.

You stare.

I stare.

Silence.

Then your voice cracks:

“Baby… baby WHY are you like this?!?”

I shrug inside the shirt prison.

“I am new.”

You groan and yank the shirt properly onto my body, muttering curses to the universe, to physics, to sleeve designers.

The shirt stretches painfully over my shoulders.

It stops at my ribs.

It is absolutely too small.

Your eyes widen.

“Don’t ! move ! or it’ll rip—”

RRRRRRRIPPPPP.

It rips.

We both freeze.

The room goes silent.

You close your eyes in slow agony.

“…My favorite shirt,” you whisper like a widow at a funeral.

I look down at the torn fabric around my torso.

“…Sorry.”

You inhale, long, steady, trying to stay calm.

“It’s okay,” you lie.

It is not okay.

“Let’s try pants,” you say with the bravery of someone who has clearly given up.

You hold the sweatpants up.

They look like doll clothes next to my legs.

You sigh.

“Just, put one leg in each hole.”

then you closed your eyes tightly.

I nod.

I step.

I miss.

My foot goes through the waistband instead.

You scream into your hands.

“ONE LEG IN EACH HOLE! HOW IS THAT HARD???”

“…Everything is shaped like a hole,” I say defensively.

You almost throw the pants at me.

Instead, you kneel and start guiding my legs like dressing a giant stubborn toddler.

you looked down. only looked down.

Why?

It takes ten minutes.

Ten full minutes.

When it’s finally done, the pants reach my calves.

You stare at the result.

You whisper, defeated:

“You look like you lost a fight with the laundry.”

I look at myself.

“…But I am clothed?”

You nod weakly.

“Technically. Legally. Barely.”

Silence.

Then,

Your eyes travel up slowly.

Past the ripped shirt.

Past the too-short pants.

Up to my face.

You say softly, almost grudgingly:

“…You’re still handsome. Annoyingly.”

You snort. And look away. Why? Shy?

I tilt my head.

“…Really?”

You throw a pillow at me.

“DON’T GET COCKY!”

The pillow hits my chest.

I blink.

Then I smile.

Because even with sensation overload, dizziness, and catastrophic clothing failure,

you’re still here.

And somehow that makes this strange human body feel a little less overwhelming.

⸻

“The First Steps of a Newly-Born Disaster”

⸻

You stand back, hands on your hips like a tiny, furious coach.

“Okay. You’re dressed..."

You glance at the torn shirt, the pants choking my calves,

“sort of. Now we teach you how to walk.”

I blink.

“…I know how to walk.”

“NO, YOU DON’T.”

I open my mouth to argue,

but then I take one step forward.

Just one.

My balance tilts.

My legs wobble like a baby deer whose soul left its body.

My arms flail out and I gasp:

“WHY IS THE FLOOR MOVING—?!?”

“The floor is not moving!” you scream.

I lean too far left.

You rush forward.

“NONONO.... BABYY—!”

I fall.

Directly toward you.

You let out a noise so dramatic operas would be jealous.

I catch myself at the last second, hands slamming against the wall inches from your head, pinning you between the wall and my body.

Your eyes go wide.

I freeze, panting, dizzy, and way too close.

“…Are you hurt?” I whisper.

You blink up at me.

“…Lumen.”

“Yes?”

“You almost crushed me, you extremely handsome------ shibal sekiya...!"

She actualy mute that curse, she move her lips without sound... but I know she curse... haha cute.

I swallow.

“I’m sorry.”

You push at my chest.

“Get OFF...! you’re heavy...!"

I attempt to step back.

My foot catches on the cursed-too-small sweatpants.

I trip.

I fall BACKWARD this time,

arms flying!

The blanket slips off my shoulders mid-fall.

You scream like you’re witnessing a Greek tragedy:

“NOOOO.... BABY THE BLANKET—!!”

It floats in the air in slow motion.

I land on the floor with a loud THUD.

You stare between me and the blanket on the ground like deciding which one to save first.

You grab the blanket instantly.

Of course you do.

“Priorities,” you mutter, tossing it at my torso to re-cover me.

I lie there on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“…Walking is difficult.”

You glare down at me.

“You think?? You nearly died. And killed me. And blind my eyes”

“I did not blind anyone.”

“Oh really? Because I SAW A LOT.”

I blink innocently.

“You looked?”

Your face explodes red.

“SHUT UP.”

"I thought you look down"

"GO AWAY !"

I sit up slowly, holding the blanket around me like a cloak.

You rub your forehead.

“Okay. We’re doing baby steps. Literally. Like a toddler. Hold my hands.”

I extend my hands obediently.

You grab them.

Your hands are warm.

My heart...

this strange new organ,

does something weird.

It… jumps?

I stare at our hands, confused and fascinated.

You misinterpret my freeze.

“Don’t think. Just walk.”

I take a step.

My legs work.

Another step.

I nearly fall, you yank me upright like lifting a tree.

A third step,

A loud BAM BAM BAM from your wall.

Your neighbor.

Then a furious voice:

“KEEP IT DOWN IN THERE! PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!”

You stiffen instantly.

Your eyes go round.

“LUMEN— now they think I’m fighting someone... or... or... I don’t even... AAAAA—”

I whisper:

“…Then we must be quiet.”

“YES please, WALK QUIETLY—”

I try.

I really do.

But walking quietly is impossible when I’m built like a fridge learning ballet for the first time.

Every step sounds like:

THUD.

BOOM.

THONK.

The neighbor bangs again.

You panic, grab my face, and hiss:

“WALK. LIKE. A. FEATHER.”

I whisper back earnestly:

“I do not know how soft a feather walks.”

You slap your own forehead.

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS—”

I tilt my head.

“…Because you wished for me?”

You freeze.

Your hand slowly drops.

Your breath catches.

“Lumen…”

The room softens.

Your eyes soften.

Something between us pulls closer.

Warmer.

Brighter.

But then...

My knee buckles.

And I grab you,

Both of us falling onto the bed so suddenly the mattress screams.

You land on top of me.

Silence.

Your hair falls onto my face.

Your hands are on my chest.

My arms are around your waist.

Your heartbeat is loud.

Mine is louder.

Slowly,

I smile up at you.

“…I did not fall this time,” I say softly.

You hit my chest with your palm.

“STOP MAKING MY HEART EXPLODE!”

I laugh.

Human.

Warm.

Breathless.

“I can’t help it, baby,” I whisper, pulling you a little closer.

“When I’m with you… everything feels new.”

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TEASER Chapter 7 Part 3

He looked at his reflection for the first time.

Then he whispered,

That's me?

And my heart actually broke.