Haru scribbled into the register, the black ink scratching across the page as he recorded another latecomer's name for the school authority. His sharp features were unreadable, his expression cold, his presence carrying that same cool aura which often kept others at a distance.
Without lifting his gaze, he asked, "What's your name?"
The boy standing before him gave no reply. Haru frowned, his pen pausing midair. Slowly, he raised his head.
"Hey," he pressed, voice firm. "Tell me your name."
"…Aki," came the quiet reply. The boy's gaze remained fixed on the floor.
Haru studied him for a moment, waiting, but Aki still wouldn't look up.
Then, unexpectedly, a whisper.
"Haru…"
His name, spoken so softly it almost faded into the air.
Haru frowned faintly, but when his eyes opened wider, surprise flickered in them. Aki was staring back at him. Straight into his eyes. The same Aki who, years ago, could never even hold his gaze.
Morning sunlight spilled faintly into the room. Haru sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes. He stretched lazily, shoulders relaxing as he yawned.
Across the room, Aki was adjusting his tie in the mirror. His voice was brisk, but there was something restrained in his tone.
"I'm leaving early. Work." He tightened the knot at his collar, not looking back. "You can stay here until I come back. I don't have a duplicate key."
Haru only hummed, settling deeper into the sheets, his hair a messy crown of sleep.
"I made a little breakfast," Aki added, lifting his laptop. His voice faltered as though the words felt strange on his tongue. "Anyway ~I'm going."
He rushed out, closing the door behind him. Haru's gaze lingered on the space Aki had just vacated. For a long moment, he sat in silence. Then, with a sigh, he rose and padded across the room.
The window was still shut from yesterday. Haru unlatched it, and the cool morning breeze slipped in, brushing against his skin. He closed his eyes, letting it wash over him.
When he glanced at his phone, ten unread messages blinked on the screen~his father's name glaring at him. He didn't open them. Instead, he looked outside. The world was alive, people streaming down the streets, swallowed by the busy rhythm of life. Watching them, Haru felt the weight of reality settle in.
For Aki, time dragged. Draft after draft, call after call ~ the endless grind of office life stretched painfully long. But for Haru, the hours flew past.
He swept the entire apartment until the floors shone, washed and ironed the laundry, prepared food for two, and finally, turned to the disaster that was Aki's room.
"Still the same," Haru muttered under his breath, crouching down before a pile of books. His hand brushed over the old, dust-coated spines, some of them swollen with age and humidity. The air carried the sharp scent of mildew.
"Does he even read these anymore?" Haru picked up a volume, flipped through a few pages, then closed it with a soft thud. He returned to arranging the stack.
That's when he noticed it.
A diary, half-buried among the clutter. Its cover was torn, its pages warped by old coffee stains, words blurred where the ink had run. The faint, musty smell of memories lingered in its paper.
Haru coughed lightly, brushing off the dust, and turned it open. The first page was shredded across the top, ink spreading where liquid had once spilled.
On the margin, in uneven handwriting, was scrawled:
AKI'S DIARY – DON'T REA—
Haru chuckled softly. "Typical."
The sound of the door opening startled him. He slipped the diary back between the neatly stacked books and stepped out of the room.
Aki was already removing his shoes, scarf, and coat by the door. His eyes narrowed when he spotted Haru emerging from his bedroom.
"What were you doing in my room?" Aki asked flatly.
"Cleaning," Haru replied with a smile, his tone casual.
"Why?" Aki's brows furrowed deeper.
"I like to clean things," Haru said simply, already turning toward the open kitchen. "It's fine. Come on, take a shower. I made dinner for us."
Left standing in the hallway, Aki hesitated before retreating to his room. The air was different when he entered~ tidier, lighter. The shelves were dusted, the sheets crisp, the chaos of his books tamed into order.
He sighed softly.
What is he even thinking?
Without another word, he gathered a towel and went to the shower.