It was a typical lazy weekend, or at least that's how it began. The kind that starts with the gentle hum of the ceiling fan spinning overhead, the faint scent of toast wafting in from the kitchen, and the soft tapping of fingers on a phone screen. Peaceful. Almost boring.
But Ren had other plans.
He burst into the living room like a firecracker, eyes gleaming, voice loud enough to wake the dead. "Big bro! You're the best! Seriously! Like—like, you could totally go pro in anything! Athlete, chef, secret agent—you name it!" He practically threw himself at me, arms wrapped tight around mine like he was trying to fuse us together.
"Ren, c'mon," I murmured, trying to pry him off, my voice quieter than it should've been. "Not this again…"
But he wasn't letting go. His grip tightened like a koala on caffeine. "No, no! I'm serious! You've got this aura. Like… like a protagonist. You just walk in and it's like—bam! The world changes."
I winced. Across the room, Miyuki sat, half-hidden behind a magazine. Her eyes didn't lift, but I could feel her listening. That subtle tension in her shoulders gave it away.
I nudged Ren off me gently, the heat rising in my cheeks. I hoped she didn't hear him. Or at least, didn't care. "I'm not that great, okay? Go bother someone else."
"But you are! You're—oh crap! My drills!" Ren froze like a statue, eyes widening. "Coach'll kill me!" He bolted out the door, leaving a hurricane of energy in his wake and the scent of his shampoo lingering in the air.
And just like that, the house fell quiet. Almost too quiet.
I rubbed my arm where Ren had clung to me, then glanced at Miyuki. She still hadn't looked up. The magazine pages turned with slow, deliberate flicks, but she hadn't moved otherwise.
Alone with her? That was new.
Ren had always been the glue, the bridge, the whirlwind that filled every silence. Without him, the air felt... heavier. Not uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. Like sitting in a stranger's house, even though it was been a week since I started hanging out in Miyuki's house.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but all that came out was, "So, um…"
And then she stood.
"I'll make tea!" she chirped, her voice unusually bright, a little too quick. Before I could say a word, she vanished into the kitchen, leaving only the ghost of her words behind.
What… just happened?
I blinked at the space she left behind, confused. That wasn't like her. Miyuki was usually cool and calm, almost cold sometimes. Not… chirpy.
I got up and wandered a bit, trying to shake the awkwardness off. My eyes landed on a stack of DVDs sitting neatly by the shelf. The titles sent a chill up my spine.
Horror movies?
I picked up the top one, tilting the case in my hand. Blood, shadows, screaming faces on the cover. My brows furrowed. Miyuki watches these? The idea seemed so far removed from the image I had of her.
"You're a fan of horror?" I asked, loud enough for her to hear from the kitchen.
She peeked out, eyes glinting with amusement. "Yeah. What, you scared?"
I blinked. "No. Just… didn't expect that from you."
"I'm full of surprises," she replied with a smirk before ducking back out of sight.
I stared at the DVD in my hand, then back at the kitchen door. On impulse—maybe foolish, maybe bold—I asked, "Wanna watch one together?"
The silence that followed felt eternal. I immediately regretted it. Why did I even—
"Sure," she said, stepping back into the room, her smile small but sharp. "But if you scream, I'm telling Ren."
I looked away, scratching the back of my neck. "I'll be fine."
We settled on the couch, the evening light melting into a warm orange glow across the room. As the movie started, shadows danced along the walls, and the first eerie notes of the soundtrack began to play.
Miyuki sat with her legs folded under her, arms crossed tightly. Her face was unreadable at first, that usual stoic mask she wore around people. But as the tension built in the movie—the creaking doors, the sudden silences, the inevitable jump scares—I saw cracks in that mask.
She jumped. Not a lot. Just a little twitch of the shoulders. But it was enough.
"Scared?" I whispered, leaning just slightly closer.
She stiffened. "No."
I looked back at the screen quickly, pretending to focus. "Right."
As the movie went on, I started noticing more—the way her fingers clenched the edge of the couch, the way she held her breath during the quietest moments, how she would steal glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking.
There was something about it. Something soft.
Miyuki wasn't the fearless, untouchable person I'd always assumed she was. Underneath all that cool exterior, there was a girl flinching at shadows, cheeks barely pink from the glow of the TV, trying to act tougher than she really was.
And it was... oddly endearing.
When the credits finally rolled, she jumped up and grabbed another DVD. "Next one," she declared.
I blinked. "You're not scared?"
She turned away from me. "Told you. I'm not scared." But her voice cracked just a little, and I didn't miss the way she avoided eye contact.
We sat again, a bit closer this time. The couch somehow felt smaller, the distance between us thinner.
This time, when a scare came, her knee bumped into mine and didn't move away. I didn't either.
It wasn't just about the movie anymore. Something else was happening in that space between us—something I didn't understand yet, but felt like the slow swell of a song building to a crescendo. Her eyes, when they flicked toward me, held something I hadn't seen before. Not indifference. Not irritation.
Something warmer.
And then—just as the monster on screen lunged forward—
Bang.
The power went out.
The screen went black. The house was plunged into silence, save for the soft hum of the fridge powering down.
"Ah—!" I heard her gasp beside me, and before I could react, her hand gripped mine. Tight.
I turned my head. I could barely see her in the dark, just a faint outline. Her fingers were cold. Slightly trembling.
"Miyuki?" I whispered.
She didn't respond, just leaned in—closer than I ever thought she'd dare—until her forehead nearly touched my shoulder. I could feel her breath against my shirt. Shaky. Real.
And then I did something completely uncharacteristic.
I reached out and wrapped an arm around her.
It was awkward. Clumsy. My hand hovered for a second, unsure where it belonged, before finally resting around her shoulders. But I didn't pull away. And she didn't either.
For a moment, the world outside that couch disappeared.
"It's okay," I murmured, quietly. "I'm here."
The darkness softened.
But then, just as my heart began to settle into that unfamiliar rhythm...
Flick. The lights came back on.
She jumped back like she'd been caught stealing something. Her face flushed deep pink, mine not far behind. We stared at each other, too stunned to speak.
And then—
BANG.
The door flew open.
"I'm home!" Ren's voice exploded through the doorway, arms wide like a returning hero. "Did I interrupt something?"
We both screamed. A moment later, Ren's laughter echoed through the room.
"My bad! I'll leave you lovebirds alone—kidding, kidding!"
Miyuki scowled, arms crossed, trying to hide her burning face. "You always ruin the moment."
Ren's grin didn't falter. "Yeah, but I'm your favorite, right?"
I rolled my eyes, laughing nervously. "Sure, whatever."
The moment had been shattered, scattered like glass. But the pieces still shimmered faintly in the air between us.
And even as I tried to act like nothing had happened, I couldn't forget the warmth of her hand in mine. The way she leaned into me. The way she looked in the dark—not afraid of the ghosts on screen, but maybe afraid of something more real.
Something like... how close we were getting.
And despite the chaos, the power outages, the teasing, and the awkward silences, I felt something stir inside me. Something confusing.
Something... new.
Maybe it was just a weird night.
Or maybe—
Maybe it was the beginning of something else entirely.