POV: RenLocation: Minako's House — Afternoon into Night
The afternoon sun had already begun to tilt toward gold when I arrived at her house.Second day in a row. Second invitation.
Minako opened the gate for me with a quiet smile. Her house was modest, neat—filled with books, quiet rooms, and the smell of tea leaves. She led me to a low table in the living room where her schoolbooks were already waiting.
"I thought I'd get ahead on Chemistry," she said lightly. "You don't mind?"
I shook my head. "No. I don't mind."
She brought tea—green, faintly floral—and sat beside me, her posture attentive but relaxed. For a long time, we didn't speak beyond notes and formulas. The silence wasn't heavy.
It was… warm.
Like falling into step with someone who didn't expect you to be anything more than what you already were.
She asked good questions. Focused, if slightly self-deprecating.
"Was I always this bad at stoichiometry?" she muttered at one point, frowning at her paper.
"You're not bad," I replied, calm. "Just overthinking."
That made her smile, and the smile lingered longer than it should've.
Time passed unnoticed.
By 8 p.m., her legs were folded beneath her on the floor, and she leaned closer to reread a passage I'd just annotated. Her shoulder brushed mine—gently, then again. Her tea went cold.
At 9:30, she put her pencil down and stared at the ceiling.
"…Can I tell you something stupid?" she asked suddenly.
I glanced at her. She wasn't looking at me.
"I used to tell myself I was just… curious about you."
A pause.
"Because you were quiet. Polite. Always ranked first, but never acted like it."
She sat up straighter, her fingers lightly touching the edge of her notebook.
"But that wasn't it. Not really. I think…"She let out a soft laugh. "I think I was interested. But I didn't want to admit that. Not even to myself."
I didn't speak.
She looked at me then.
"And now, sitting here—talking, studying… watching how you explain things like it actually matters to you—I know it wasn't curiosity at all. I like you, Ren."
There was no dramatics in her voice. Just simple, aching honesty.
"I know you're with Airi-senpai," she continued, a little quieter. "And I don't want to get in the way. But I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I just had to tell you."
She stood up, walking to the door as if to open it for me. But when I reached her, she turned—suddenly, quickly—and kissed me.
It wasn't bold. It wasn't shy.
It was real.
A brush of lips that lingered for half a breath, trembling.
"I'm sorry," she whispered after she pulled away. "You don't have to say anything. I just… wanted you to know."
I stared at her a moment.
Then nodded.
"Thank you," I said softly.
Her eyes glimmered, and her voice shook as she smiled. "Even when you say so little, you're still kind."
I stepped outside.
The night air was cool, heavy with the scent of distant sakura blooms and city lights. I glanced once over my shoulder—saw her standing there in the doorway, one hand pressed against her chest.
She looked so small. So sincere.
I kept walking.
Because sincerity didn't change what I was.
Or what I couldn't be.
POV: RenLocation: Home – Late Evening
The hallway light was on.
That was the first thing I noticed when I stepped inside—shoes still damp from the dew outside, the night hanging on my shoulders like a weighted coat. The soft glow of the entrance lamp spilled across the floor like a welcome I didn't deserve.
And there she was.
Airi stood in the kitchen doorway, barefoot, dressed in a pale blue hoodie that swallowed her figure. Her hair was slightly tousled—she'd probably dozed off waiting for me.
"You're late," she said softly.
Her voice didn't scold. It held no edge, only quiet worry wrapped in affection.
"I lost track of time," I answered truthfully.
She nodded, then gestured toward the kitchen. "I made dinner. It's still warm—I kept it on the stove."
I followed her in.
Two bowls sat neatly on the table, covered with lids. Rice, miso soup, grilled mackerel. She'd even made tamagoyaki. I didn't say anything, but something in my chest shifted.
She sat beside me, not across. Close, but not clinging.
"Eat," she said gently. "You'll get sick if you keep skipping meals like this."
I obeyed, mechanically at first. Then slower, tasting the effort. The care.
Airi didn't speak for a while. She just watched me eat, chin resting on her palm, her expression unreadable in the soft kitchen light.
"You look tired," she finally whispered.
I met her eyes.
She reached out, brushing my bangs from my forehead with careful fingers. "You always try to look fine in front of me. But I notice things."
My heart stilled for half a second. But I didn't flinch.
"I'm okay," I said.
She smiled at that. Sad. Sweet. "You always say that, too."
After the dishes were cleaned, she tugged my sleeve lightly. "Come here."
She led me to the couch, then pulled me down beside her—head resting on my shoulder, arms wrapped around mine like ivy.
Her body was warm. Soft. Familiar.
Her presence was a balm I didn't deserve.
"I don't need anything else," she whispered into the space between us. "Just this. Just you."
I didn't answer.
But I didn't pull away.
That was enough for her.
She nuzzled closer, closing her eyes. I watched her breathe for a long moment, memorizing how peace looked when it wasn't mine.
And for a fleeting second, I wondered—
What would it feel like to stay here?
To be only this boy. This warmth. This peace.
Airi murmured something sleepily, almost inaudible.
"…I love you."
The words wrapped around me like silk.
And I, as always, said nothing back.