The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the sidewalk as the group finally split up outside the café.
Riku tossed a half-hearted wave. "Later, lovebirds and introverts."
"Watch it," Mira smirked, nudging him away.
Lily rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips as Riku and Mira disappeared down the street, bickering as usual.
That left just her and Aki.
They walked side by side without speaking for a few blocks, their steps slow, comfortable. The quiet wasn't awkward. Just… still. Like the kind of silence where you didn't feel the need to fill every second with noise.
Then, as they crossed a quiet intersection, Aki cleared his throat.
"Hey… um." He hesitated. "Do you want to stop by my place?"
Lily blinked, glancing over.
"I mean—just for a bit," he rushed. "I wanted to show you something. My sketchbook. The one I don't bring to school."
Lily raised an eyebrow, curious. "Why me?"
Aki didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed ahead.
"…Because you don't look at people like they're broken," he finally said. "And I want someone like that to see what I've drawn."
That silenced her more than anything.
After a beat, she nodded. "All right. Lead the way."
Aki's room was small, neat, and smelled faintly of pencil shavings and old books.
He moved nervously, clearing a chair for her and tossing aside a few crumpled sketches. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting… anyone."
Lily sat, crossing her legs carefully, glancing around. His walls had a few framed pieces — landscapes, still lifes. But the real art was in the stack he pulled from under his desk.
He hesitated again, then handed it to her.
Lily opened it.
Inside were drawings that didn't match what he showed at school. These were raw — real. People with tired eyes, hunched shoulders, laughter and sadness drawn in shadows and lines. Strangers, maybe. Maybe not.
She paused on one sketch of a girl — her face blurry, like memory fading. She wasn't sure, but she felt something twist in her chest.
"These are amazing," she said softly.
Aki sat across from her, eyes down. "No one's seen them. Not even my parents."
"Why me, really?" she asked again, gently.
Aki looked up.
"Because… you make people feel seen. And I wanted to return the favor."
The room got quiet again.
Just then, Aki stood quickly, fumbling. "You want something to drink? I've got melon soda. Or barley tea?"
"Tea's fine," Lily said.
Aki nodded and walked out.
She kept flipping pages, pausing on a drawing of a boy under a streetlight — the way the shadow curled behind him was heartbreakingly lonely.
Footsteps returned — and suddenly, the tray in Aki's hands slipped.
"Ah—!"
The cup tilted, the tea splashing out and right across Lily's shirt.
She gasped, standing up, tea dripping down the front of her uniform.
"I-I'm so sorry!" Aki panicked, reaching for a cloth.
The cold soaked through fast. Lily pressed her arms over her chest on instinct, the wet fabric clinging in ways that made her very aware of how thin it was.
Aki froze mid-step, realizing.
His face went red. "I—I'm not looking! I didn't— I'll get you a towel—!"
He spun around so fast he nearly tripped, fleeing the room.
Lily stared down at herself, cheeks burning despite the chill. She wasn't mad. Just… surprised.
She looked at the sketchbook still open on her lap.
Then she smiled — just barely — and whispered:
"…Hopeless."