Narration
Coco wasn't expecting Kyle to still be in the hallway when her tutoring session ended, but there he was. Leaning against the frame of the glass door like time didn't apply to him. His suit jacket was gone, sleeves rolled to the elbow, the collar of his shirt slightly undone.
It was unfair, she thought. A man should not look so composed and so unbothered at the same time.
Kairo brushed past him with a muttered, "Don't hover." But Kyle didn't move, didn't even spare his sister more than a dry smile. His eyes were on her.
"Ready to go?" he asked, voice deep, calm.
She nodded, clutching her books closer to her chest as if they could shield her from how heavy his gaze felt on her.
The drive was quiet at first, the hum of the car filling the silence. Coco kept her attention on the window, counting the passing streetlights to steady herself. Then, without warning, Kyle chuckled low in his throat.
Her head turned instinctively. "What is it?"
Kyle's phone buzzed with a notification, and when he glanced at the screen, a grin tugged at his mouth. "A friend of mine just sent me this," he said, turning the phone so Coco could see. The video was short, chaotic, and entirely in Japanese.
Coco didn't wait for him to explain. Her lips parted, and before he could even catch the punchline, she burst into laughter, rich and unrestrained. "baka yorō [damn idiot.] " she muttered between laughs.
Kyle froze, his brows lifting. "Wait, you understood that?"
Coco smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Of course. I speak Japanese pretty well. You were about to translate, weren't you?"
"Guilty," he admitted, chuckling low, though inwardly he felt a new rush of intrigue. She had just peeled back another layer of herself, and he found he didn't want to stop discovering more.
She cracked up again and Kyle's eyes snapped to her like he'd heard a melody he hadn't known he was waiting for. "There it is," he murmured.
She blinked. "There what is?"
"Your laugh," he said simply, as though that explained everything.
Her cheeks warmed. "It's not… it's not that special."
"It is when you've been waiting to hear it," he replied, his voice quieter now.
Something in her chest tightened, caught between panic and something else she wasn't ready to name. She turned back to the window, but the corner of her lips betrayed her, curving upward.
The city lights faded as the car took a familiar detour. Coco frowned when she noticed. "This isn't the way home. Oh my gosh, are you a serial killer" They both laughed.
Kyle slowed the car, steering them onto a coastal road that opened up to a dark stretch of sea. He pulled into a small clearing where the asphalt ended, the car rolling to a stop.
"This is where I come to think," he said, gesturing to the wide-open ocean. The waves shimmered under the moonlight, endless and alive. "It really helps me breathe, when I feel like I'm suffocating."
Coco hesitated before unbuckling her seatbelt. The salty air seeped in through the half-cracked windows, carrying the sound of the tide.
"It's beautiful, and peaceful." she admitted softly.
Kyle leaned back in his seat, studying her profile in the dim light. "You've lived here your whole life, haven't you?"
"Yes," she answered, eyes still fixed on the horizon.
"And yet," he continued, "I bet no one has ever really given you space to just… be."
Her lips parted. She hadn't expected him to voice something she'd always felt but never said aloud.
She shifted slightly, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "Why do you say that?"
"Because you walk like someone who's always bracing," he replied. "Like you're expecting the ground to crack beneath you."
Her throat tightened, words lodged somewhere she couldn't reach.
"I notice things," he added quickly, as if softening the weight of his observation. "It's part of the job, I guess. Numbers, markets, people, they all leave patterns."
"So I'm a… pattern?" she asked, half amused, half defensive.
Kyle gave a small laugh. "No. You're the exception."
The words lingered between them, heavy with meaning.
To break the silence, she asked, "What was it like? Running a division overseas?"
Kyle tilted his head, surprised at the shift. "Demanding. Different. I was in Tokyo for nearly four years."
"Tokyo?" Her eyes widened. "That explains the Japanese video."
He chuckled. "I picked up the language while I was there. Couldn't exactly run board meetings through a translator forever."
"And no girlfriend?" she teased, the question slipping out before she could catch it.
His eyes gleamed, amused by her sudden boldness. "None worth mentioning."
She regretted asking instantly, heat crawling up her neck. "I didn't mean,"
"I know," he cut in gently. "But no. I was too focused on work. Too careful, maybe."
She hummed softly, processing that.
"And you?" he asked after a beat.
"Me?"
"Any boyfriends?"
She barked out a short laugh, shaking her head. "No. Not really."
"Not really?" he pressed, clearly intrigued.
"Not really as in," she paused, frowning at herself. "As in… no. Never. Not seriously."
Kyle leaned closer, resting his forearm against the wheel. "Good. Saves me the trouble."
Her heart skipped, her body jolting at the implication, but he said it so casually, as if it were just another line in their conversation.
"Do you always say things like that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Only when they're true."
The tide crashed louder, as though the ocean itself wanted to fill the silence she couldn't.
Coco tucked her books tighter against her lap, needing the anchor. "You barely know me," she said finally.
"And yet," he countered, "I feel like I do."
She forced herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were sharper than she remembered, silver-grey with a depth that seemed to pull at her.
"You shouldn't say things like that," she whispered. "Not to me."
"Why not?"
"Because…" she hesitated, voice trembling despite herself. "Because I might believe you Kyle."
Kyle didn't smile this time. He just looked at her, really looked, like he'd been waiting for her to crack open that sliver of truth.
The car filled with the sound of the waves again, louder now, steady and relentless.
Kyle straightened slowly, switching the ignition back on. "I'll take you home."
But his voice wasn't as steady as before.
The drive back was quieter, though not uncomfortable. When they pulled up to her gate, Coco reached for the handle, then stopped.
"Thank you," she said softly, not just for the ride, not just for the detour.
Kyle nodded once. "Anytime."
Their eyes held for a moment too long before she finally stepped out.
The ocean smell lingered on her skin, along with the memory of his words.
And when she climbed into bed that night, she realized with a pang that the laugh he'd pulled from her still echoed faintly in her chest.