Back to Yuto's POV.
The night air felt like a damp hoodie clinging to my back—sticky, warm, and stubborn in all the wrong ways. I sat on the porch steps with a mug in hand, lukewarm tea sloshing quietly inside. Not exactly summer beverage of the year, but at least it gave me something to hold.
Above, the stars blinked in and out of sight between slow-moving clouds, like they were playing hide-and-seek but lost interest halfway through. Mood.
Behind me, the screen door groaned open. The kind of creak that wasn't loud, just noticeable—like it knew how to announce feelings before they even arrived.
"Mind if I join you?"
Mom stepped out with two mugs, her silhouette catching the porch light just enough to make her look softer than usual. She sat down beside me, close enough for comfort but not too close to corner me into a heart-to-heart. Veteran move.
