The three of them sat outside the corner store again, perched on the concrete ledge near the bike rack. It was the kind of afternoon where everything moved a little slower, like the world was trying to nap.
Junpei was sipping on a bottle of orange soda and clearly enjoying it way too much. "This one hits different," he said, holding the bottle up like a trophy. "Like a citrus uppercut."
"No one talks like that," Ryota said, taking a bite from a lukewarm croquette.
"I do," Junpei replied with a shrug. "I'm a man of flavor."
Sota sat beside them, holding a drink he hadn't opened yet. His eyes were on the passing cars, the people walking by, the rustle of leaves in the wind. He hadn't said much since they got there.
Ryota leaned over a little. "You're in your own head again."
"Huh?"
"You've got that faraway look," Ryota said. "Like you're watching a music video no one else can see."
Sota blinked. "I'm just tired."
Junpei nudged his arm. "You've been 'just tired' since yesterday. Spill it."
Sota looked down at the bottle in his hand. "It's nothing."
"That's how we know it's something," Ryota said.
Sota hesitated for a second. Then: "You ever like someone, but you don't know what you're supposed to do with it?"
There was a short pause.
"Yup," Junpei said, nodding. "I do exactly nothing."
Ryota nodded too. "Strong strategy. Can't mess it up if you don't try."
They all went quiet for a moment.
Sota finally cracked open the bottle and took a sip. It was too sweet. But he didn't hate it.
"She smiled at me yesterday," he said quietly. "Just… smiled. And now my brain won't shut up."
Junpei tossed his bottle cap at the ground. "That's how it starts. Next thing you know, you're writing song lyrics in your notebook."
"I'm not doing that."
"Yet."
Ryota leaned back, stretching his legs out. "Don't overthink it. Just keep being you. Talk to her. Don't force anything."
Junpei raised an eyebrow. "Look at you. Giving actual advice."
"I'm evolving," Ryota said.
Sota smiled faintly, still looking at the street. "Thanks."
They went quiet again. Not because there was nothing to say, but because the silence wasn't awkward. It just… fit.
Sometimes, the best conversations are the ones that don't need to go anywhere.