Yuki was always loud.
Not just in volume—but in color, in presence, in the way she entered a room like it owed her an explanation for existing without her.
So when she didn't show up for lunch two days in a row, Leo noticed.
More importantly, she wasn't posting anything. No memes in the dorm group chat. No blurry photos of cafeteria food with sarcastic commentary. No 3 a.m. voice notes of her singing old anime openings off-key.
It was... quiet.
Too quiet.
---
It wasn't like they were best friends. But Yuki had been one of the first to speak to him when he transferred. She treated him like he was just another kid in the middle of life's chaos—not a mystery, not a tragic backstory, not a curiosity to dissect.
She'd been kind.
And now, she was gone.
---
Leo found her on the roof.
Not because he was looking for her, exactly.
He just... knew.
The door was unlocked, and the late afternoon light turned everything gold. The city stretched far below, half-drenched in sun, half already slipping into evening.
Yuki sat at the far edge, legs drawn up, chin resting on her knees. Her signature jacket—bright yellow with a lightning bolt on the sleeve—was crumpled beside her like she'd stopped caring.
She didn't look up.
"Is this where you hide when the world's too much?" Leo asked gently.
She smiled faintly. "It's where the static is quiet."
He sat beside her.
They didn't speak for a while.
Just sat.
Then, she said, "You ever feel like if you stop talking, people forget you exist?"
Leo looked at her.
She wasn't joking.
"I used to feel that way a lot," he admitted. "Before I transferred. I didn't talk much. People thought I was fine. But I wasn't."
"Same," she said. "Except I did talk. All the time. Loudly. Too much, probably. But no one ever really asked if I was okay. They just assumed I was. Because I made jokes. Because I was fun."
Leo waited.
"I got a call this week," she continued. "My dad... he's sick. Real sick. Liver failure. He needs a transplant."
Leo's breath caught. "Yuki..."
"I haven't seen him in two years," she said. "He left. Said it was for the best. Said he couldn't be the parent I needed. And I hated him for it. I still kind of do."
A breeze passed through. She didn't move.
"But now they're asking if I want to go see him. If I want to say goodbye. Or whatever it is you say in those situations."
Leo didn't know what to say.
So he asked, "Do you want to go?"
"I don't know."
"That's okay."
She finally looked at him.
"Why is it that you always say the right thing?"
"I don't," Leo said. "I just stopped trying to say the wrong ones."
She laughed—a small, broken sound.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"I know."
He reached out, fingers brushing hers.
"You don't have to be okay all the time, Yuki."
She stared at their hands.
Then, slowly, let her fingers intertwine with his.
---
The sun dipped further.
Eventually, she stood up.
"Come on," she said. "You're buying me melon soda."
"I am?"
"You are now."
Leo smiled.
"Deal."