The library was quiet — the kind of quiet that felt alive, wrapped in the faint hum of cicadas outside and the soft turning of pages.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the wide windows, painting gentle patterns across the floor and shelves.
Haruto sat by the window again, a book open in front of him.
He wasn't sure if he was actually reading — his eyes moved, but his thoughts drifted between the lines, resting somewhere in the warmth of the day.
He liked this place. It was peaceful, predictable.
Until, of course, the chair beside him creaked softly.
"Found you again," Aoi said, setting her bag down with a grin.
Haruto blinked and looked up. "...You were looking for me?"
"Maybe," she said, tapping her chin playfully. "Or maybe the universe just keeps putting you near windows."
He huffed a quiet laugh, pretending to focus on his book again. "It's just coincidence."
"Mm, sure," she said, sitting down anyway.
---
For a while, the two of them stayed like that — Aoi flipping through art books and sketching small lines in her notebook, Haruto half-reading, half-listening to the soft scratch of her pencil.
The sunlight shifted slowly, spilling over her desk, catching the ends of her hair in soft gold.
She broke the silence first. "Hey, Haruto."
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever feel like… quiet moments disappear too fast?" Her tone was gentle, almost shy. "Like you blink, and the day's already gone?"
He closed his book, thinking for a moment. "Maybe they do. But I think that's why they stay with us."
She looked at him curiously. "Stay with us?"
"Even if they end, they don't really vanish," he said, resting his chin on his hand. "They just… turn into something you remember on days that feel empty."
Aoi tilted her head, smiling softly. "That sounds like something from a storybook."
He chuckled, embarrassed. "I guess I've been reading too much."
"No," she said quietly, turning her pencil between her fingers. "I like it. It's a kind way of thinking."
---
They stayed until the light turned amber.
When they stepped outside, the air was warm and filled with the scent of grass. A group of students laughed somewhere near the field, and the sound echoed like a distant song.
Aoi walked a step behind him, watching how the wind brushed through his hair.
> He used to walk faster, she thought.
Now he slows down, like he's waiting for someone to match his pace.
"Hey," she said suddenly. "If someday we forget these little things — like walking home or sitting by the window — I hope we still remember how it felt."
Haruto looked at her, surprised. "How it felt?"
"Mm." She smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know — calm. Warm. Like sunlight."
He didn't answer right away, but the corner of his mouth curved faintly.
"I think I'll remember."
---
That night, as Haruto lay in bed, he thought about her words.
The world outside was full of noise — cars, cicadas, faint laughter from neighbors. But inside, it was quiet, and somehow, that quiet felt full.
> Maybe that's what she meant, he thought.
Remembering how it felt — not what we did. Just… that it was warm.
He smiled to himself in the dark, a small, content kind of smile.
> "Warm," he whispered, before sleep took him.