Ren had never been good at surprises.
He overthought everything—overpacked, overplanned, and usually ended up giving away the whole thing before it even happened.
But this time, he was determined.
No texts. No calls. No hints.
Just him, an overnight bag, and a train ticket to Airi's university.
It had been nearly six weeks since he'd last seen her in person. The letter had opened something between them, and they'd both been trying. Really trying. But trying wasn't the same as being there.
And he missed her.
Not in the abstract, poetic way he was used to writing about—but in the stupidly real way that made brushing his teeth in the morning feel dull without hearing her voice.
So here he was.
Standing outside her dorm, heart pounding like he was back in high school.
He checked the time. 7:06 PM. She had evening lab today, but it should've ended by now.
He texted her roommate, Mio—thankfully still the only co-conspirator.
"She's almost back. You're clear. I told her I was heading to the library, so she won't suspect a thing. Don't screw this up."
—Mio
Ren took a breath and shifted the bouquet in his hand. Yellow tulips, her favorite. Bright and messy—just like the way she laughed when she wasn't trying to be polite.
He heard the hallway door click open.
Footsteps. A familiar cadence.
The key jiggled in the lock.
And there she was.
Airi stopped in the doorway, frozen in mid-step, her bag sliding off her shoulder.
Ren gave a sheepish smile. "Hey."
She blinked. Twice. "What...?"
"I had a gap between deadlines," he said. "And I wanted to see you. So… surprise."
Airi just stared.
Then, slowly, she dropped her bag and walked up to him.
She didn't say anything.
She just wrapped her arms around him and held on like she'd been waiting to exhale.
And Ren? He didn't need any words either.
He held her tighter.
Later, they sat in her favorite study nook on campus—the rooftop terrace above the literature building.
The air was cold, but they were wrapped in shared silence and one too-large scarf.
Ren sipped the vending machine hot chocolate and made a face. "Still terrible."
"I told you," Airi said, chuckling. "But it's nostalgic, right?"
He smiled. "Yeah. Like watery regret."
She bumped her shoulder against his. "So, what's the real reason you came?"
"I missed you."
"You could've said that in a call."
"I wanted to say it here," he replied, "with you in front of me."
Airi was quiet for a moment. "You know, I almost started to believe long distance would become permanent. That maybe we'd just keep circling each other."
"I thought the same," Ren admitted. "But I'm tired of circles."
"What do you want instead?"
He looked at her.
"I want to build something straight. Steady. Even if it's slow."
Airi met his gaze. "That sounds like… a path."
"Yeah," he said, a little nervous. "One that leads somewhere. Together."
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she reached into her coat and pulled out a small notebook.
She opened it, flipped to the middle, and passed it to him.
Ren glanced down.
A messy, ink-stained list stared back at him:
"Things I Want Us to Do Someday"
Make breakfast together
Watch a thunderstorm from the same window
Take a road trip without a map
Argue over what to name a plant
Build a bookshelf (fail at it)
Say "I love you" without flinching
Ren swallowed hard.
"You've been keeping this?"
"Since November," she admitted. "I kept adding to it. Quietly. In case…"
"In case I wasn't ready."
She nodded.
He closed the notebook gently, then looked at her.
"I want to check off everything on that list. Even the plant."
"You're not allowed to name it something stupid."
"No promises."
She laughed—bright and unguarded.
The wind picked up, and he reached for her hand.
Their fingers interlaced instinctively. Like the pages of a book closing gently around a shared story.
The next morning, they went to the weekend market by the canal.
It was noisy, packed with students and vendors, but neither of them minded. They wandered between stalls, pausing to try roasted sweet potatoes and listen to a violinist playing beneath the bridge.
At one point, Ren pointed at a tiny potted succulent shaped like a spiky heart.
"We could name it Sir Stabbington."
Airi groaned. "Absolutely not."
"Lady Thornsworth?"
She rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
"Impossible—but holding a plant."
They bought it.
She didn't admit it out loud, but later she did scribble it into the notebook:
✓ Argue over what to name a plant(We settled on: Piko. No knights involved.)
That night, as Ren packed his bag to head back to the city the next day, Airi stood by the door, arms crossed.
"I don't like this part."
He glanced up. "Me leaving?"
She nodded.
"I don't either," he said.
"But it's okay," she added. "Because I know when you'll be back."
He zipped up the bag and smiled. "You do?"
"Yes," she said, walking over. "You'll be back when I need you. And sometimes… just because."
Ren set the bag aside and took her hands.
"I'm going to keep showing up, Airi. In all the small, boring, beautiful ways."
"Even if we argue?"
"Especially then."
She leaned in and kissed him—slow, deliberate, certain.
And as the world outside buzzed with winter's chill, the warmth between them didn't need grand declarations.
Just the steady promise of next time.