The next day, the rooftop was silent again—except for the soft rustle of pages and the distant cries of birds overhead.
Hana sat with her knees pulled to her chest, sketchbook balanced on them. The tip of her pencil moved slowly, hesitantly, as if unsure whether to draw or write. Her mind was still tangled in yesterday's events—the laughter, the fear, the quiet rescue. The bruises had faded, but the ache of humiliation lingered. And yet, in the cold aftermath, something else remained too—a warmth she hadn't expected.
The wind wasn't as sharp today. It was still cold, but it felt… bearable. Like winter easing its grip, just a little.
The rooftop door creaked open.
Ren stepped through with a small paper bag in hand. He didn't speak right away. He walked over to where Hana sat and placed the bag beside her before taking a seat at the edge of the bench.
She looked at the bag, then at him. He didn't meet her eyes, just gazed out at the sky.
"...What's this?" she asked after a pause.
"Red bean bread. You skipped lunch yesterday."
Hana blinked. "How did you...?"
"You left class early. I noticed."
Her lips parted slightly, surprised. No one had ever really noticed things like that before. At school, she moved like a ghost—half-there, easily forgotten.
Ren tilted his head slightly. "You okay?"
She hesitated. That question felt loaded. Was she okay?
"…Yeah," she lied. "Thanks."
He nodded. "No pressure. Just figured you might be hungry."
The door burst open again, this time with far less subtlety. Naoki strode in like he owned the place, his hoodie zipped halfway and his backpack dangling off one shoulder. He tossed his bag onto the bench and flopped down beside it.
"Man, I hate physics," he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Every time I think I get it, it slaps me like a bad romance plot twist."
Hana gave a quiet laugh.
"Still reading that same mystery series?" she asked.
He looked at her with exaggerated shock. "You remembered?"
She nodded. "Volume four now, right? The one with the red violin?"
Naoki's eyes lit up. "Exactly! I knew you had a sharp eye. You'd probably solve the case faster than the detective."
Ren glanced at them, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "She already solved you. Took five minutes."
Naoki clutched his chest. "Damn. Betrayed by my own homie. In front of a lady."
Hana smiled. It wasn't much—but it was more than yesterday. These two… they made it easy to breathe.
Ren leaned back, eyes on the sky. "You draw anything today?"
"A little," Hana replied. "Mostly clouds."
He nodded. "That's still something. You don't have to force it."
Naoki kicked his feet up on the bench. "Y'know, this rooftop… it kinda feels like a different world. Like, the school's all noise and chaos, but up here—"
"—It's quiet enough to hear your own thoughts," Ren finished.
Naoki looked at him, then laughed. "Bro, don't finish my sentences. It makes me sound poetic."
"You are poetic," Hana said softly. "Just in a loud, popcorn-munching kind of way."
Naoki feigned a gasp. "She's roasting me already? You've been hanging around Ren too much."
Ren's smirk grew slightly. "I don't roast people."
"You don't have to. Your silence does the job."
They all laughed—really laughed. Hana let the sound sink in. It felt rare, fragile. She didn't want to break it.
Then something drifted down from the sky—a single snowflake. Then another.
Hana looked up. "It's snowing."
Ren tilted his head back. "Yeah."
Naoki caught one on his glove. "First snow of the month. Not a bad day for it."
The snowfall was gentle, like soft ash from a fading fire.
Hana opened her sketchbook and began to draw again. Not from sadness this time—but from peace. She sketched Ren's silhouette leaning against the railing, eyes to the sky. She drew Naoki slouched with his book in hand, a snowflake balanced on his nose.
She smiled.
----
Later that evening, Hana sat by the window of her bedroom, watching the snow coat the trees outside. Her room was quiet. Her parents were downstairs—talking about work, maybe. They hadn't asked about her day. They never really did.
But that was okay.
She pulled out the sketch from earlier and traced over the lines with care. On the bottom, in small handwriting, she wrote:
"The day winter gave me something warm."
Far away, in his apartment, Ren stood on his balcony. A cup of tea steamed in his hands. The city lights blinked far below. He glanced up at the same snow falling, breathing in the cold.
Inside, a small calendar sat on the table with scribbles only he could understand. A day circled twice in red.
He didn't look at it.
Instead, he turned to the balcony rail—and closed his eyes.
----
The next day at school, Hana found herself returning to the rooftop without hesitation. Her feet knew the way now. The cold barely fazed her. She clutched her sketchbook tighter to her chest as she pushed open the door.
Naoki was already there, flipping through his book with a half-eaten snack in one hand. He grinned when he saw her.
"Yo! Artist girl! Back for another rooftop therapy session?"
Hana gave a small nod. "Only if your rates are reasonable."
"Oh, I charge in popcorn."
She sat beside him. "Deal."
Ren came a little later, holding two drinks from the vending machine. He handed one to Hana without saying much. She took it, warming her hands on the can.
The three sat there for a while, watching the snow swirl around them. Naoki talked about the book he was reading. Hana listened, occasionally sketching details from his story. Ren leaned against the railing, letting their voices fill the space.
They weren't friends, not officially. But something was forming—an invisible thread tying them together in the cold.
————