Ren sat on the floor of Airi's room, towel draped over his shoulders, steam rising from the two mugs of instant cocoa she had made like muscle memory.
It felt just like before.
And that terrified her.
"You didn't call," she said, finally.
"I wanted to see your face when I came back."
"You still could've called."
He looked down at his mug. "I didn't know if I should."
"Because you weren't supposed to be back?"
He nodded. "I left without knowing if I'd come back at all."
The room thickened with that unspoken tension—the kind that builds not from argument, but from all the things neither knew how to say.
"You look… different," she said, softer now.
Ren smirked. "It's the mystery aura. Comes with international heartbreak."
She didn't laugh.
He leaned forward. "I thought of you. Every. Single. Day."
"I know. I read your postcards a thousand times."
"But reading and being there aren't the same," he said. "And neither is writing."
He reached into his bag and handed her a small notebook.
She flipped through the pages—drawings of her. Not stylized. Not symbolic.
Just… her. Tying her hair. Sitting under the sakura tree. Laughing with Yui.
Every page whispered: I remembered.
"I drew from memory," he said. "It's the only way I could hold on to something real."
Airi set the notebook down carefully.
"Why now?"
"I needed to say something in person," Ren said. "But it's not easy."
"You came all the way back to not say it?"
He swallowed.
"I think I'm in love with you."
Silence.
Not the soft, romantic kind.
The kind that follows the snap of a bone.
Airi stood.
Turned to the window.
It had started to drizzle again.
She didn't say anything for a long time.
Ren stood too, uncertain. "I didn't mean to drop it on you like that."
She shook her head. "No. It's not that. It's just…"
"I think I wanted to hear you say it so badly that I forgot I don't know what to do after."
She turned around, and her voice cracked as she added, "What happens when the rain stops? When things get ordinary again?"
Ren stepped closer.
"Then we figure out how to love in the sunlight too."
They stood close, hearts thunderous and fragile.
And just when it felt like the tension would break into something irreversible—
A phone buzzed.
Ren looked down.
His face changed.
"Is everything okay?" Airi asked.
"It's my dad," he said slowly. "He's in the hospital."
Airi's breath caught. "Do you have to go?"
"I think I never should've come."
He grabbed his coat, but she caught his hand.
"No. Not again."
"I have to. He needs me."
"And what about me?"
Ren didn't answer.
He just looked at her—like he wanted to memorize her face one last time.
Then he let go.
And walked into the rain once more.