The silence in Aki's room felt different now — not heavy, not awkward. Just fragile.
Lily sat on the edge of his bed, now wearing one of Aki's oversized T-shirts. It hung off her shoulders awkwardly but comfortably, and she had tied it at the waist to keep it from swallowing her whole. Her uniform blouse was draped over the back of a chair, still damp from the tea spill, the faint scent of barley lingering.
Across the room, Aki hovered in the doorway, still red in the face. He looked like he wanted to apologize a hundred more times but couldn't find the words.
"You can sit," Lily said gently, patting the bed beside her.
He hesitated, then slowly crossed the room and sat — not too close, but not far either.
"…I really didn't mean to—" he started.
"I know," she said, stopping him with a small smile. "You panicked like someone who just set off a fire alarm."
He let out an embarrassed laugh, shoulders relaxing a little.
They sat in silence again, the muffled sound of a ticking clock somewhere in the background. The world outside had gone quiet — the golden light through the curtains was fading, giving the room a warm, dim hush.
Lily looked down at her hands. "You know… I haven't been to someone's room like this in a long time. Not since…"
She trailed off.
Aki glanced at her, curious but careful not to push.
"…Someone I used to know," she said quietly. "He always kept his space clean, too. Drew when he was anxious. Hid his best work where no one could see it."
Aki's breath caught, like a thread inside him had been pulled.
"Was he important to you?" he asked softly.
She nodded, eyes unfocused. "Still is. Even if no one else remembers him now."
Aki tilted his head slightly. "What do you mean?"
Lily paused, then gave a soft, sad smile. "It's… hard to explain."
He didn't press. He just sat beside her — quiet, present, and open in that rare way Aki always was when no one was looking.
"Thanks for showing me your sketches," she said. "They feel honest. You draw like you're trying to understand people."
He looked down at his hands. "Maybe because I'm always trying to understand myself."
They both laughed at that — not loudly, just gently.
"Still," Lily said, leaning back on her hands, "you're not what I expected."
Aki raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what did you expect?"
She gave him a teasing look. "More stammering. Maybe some dramatic blushing. Oh wait—"
"Okay, okay," he cut her off, turning red again.
Lily's laugh softened. She looked at him — really looked — and saw more than shyness. There was warmth in Aki. Not loud, not bold, but steady.
She didn't feel judged around him.
She felt… safe.
"I like this version of you," she said quietly.
Aki turned to her, startled.
She stood up before he could respond, gathering her things. "I should get going before Mira starts texting every five minutes."
He stood too. "Want me to walk you?"
Lily paused. "No… I think I want to walk alone tonight."
She stepped toward the door, but before leaving, she looked back at him.
"You don't have to draw me again," she said with a smile, "but if you do… draw what you see. Not what you think people want."
Then she left, leaving Aki standing in his doorway, the sketchbook still open on the desk — a blank page waiting.