He Kidnapped Himself

Ⅰ

You fear you can't stop yourself.
He walked at a steady pace, head down. He looked a bit odd—each step seemed to stomp the ground, and he appeared to be muttering to himself, angry but almost on the verge of tears, like a sulking teen-ager.
—Yes, he was a sulking teen-ager. More precisely, he was a sulking child. After all, he had been facing some things for a long time.
You fear you won't be stopped. That's your wish—every time you're walking on the road, you hope to be intercepted. Yet, like fearing punishment, you always walk quickly. You wish the passersby could understand your feelings from your muttering, but that's too dangerous—you are a child, and this would get you scolded.
But, why not just leave? You know, just not go home, stay somewhere, be fed by others—anything to avoid school. Then, go to college? You guess. After all, college is much looser, and your grades are good enough to get in; you really don't understand why the adults keep pushing you.
Of course, you know the reason. They want you to be better. Things generally fall into that category.
But, why not just leave?
This is almost a good question because you seem to feel not just that you can't do this, not just for food and shelter, but you don't dare to—you would be punished, and that makes you feel ashamed, and the punishment is too painful.
But it's a stupid question. Of course, you want to leave.
Why didn't you steal him back earlier? He is still angry about this matter.
Ⅱ
You run faster and faster on your way to find him, angry at yourself for not doing it a few days earlier. You almost sprint to the school gate—in the morning, of course. You wouldn't put this off until the evening. This matter can't be delayed.
He immediately followed you. He almost dragged you running, running into the bushes halfway to school. He jumped up, stomping on the ground, shouting:
Ah—, ah———
Then, he cried. He cried on you.
He seemed to want to hide behind you, almost hoping your body could envelop him. He feared being discovered and then punished.
But he jumped up again, stomped on the ground, and continued shouting:
Ah—, ah———, I'm leaving———
You held him all the way back. He came with you to your place, the computer screen showing Windows' automatic update, indifferent to the situation.
Ⅲ
He only talked to you for three hours before your phone distracted him. It didn't seem like a suffering person. Of course, you were the same.
He hugged you while sleeping. This wasn't even his wish. He had already left school; he wouldn't be scolded or punished anymore. Nothing important remained.
But, for fun, you still hugged each other. He chattered on about what happened to him, his anger, and how he believed things should be. He told you about his shame and his vulnerability to words. And, he lived in fear every day. He snuggled against you, telling you he wanted freedom, or just to cry. You held him, reassuring him that he had already left, and he would be okay.
You lived together from then on. This didn't end with him messing up and then being reborn, nor with him returning to his parents. You merely lived together from then on.