For two weeks after that night, the world felt unreal.
Colors seemed brighter, the air warmer, laughter easier.
Miyako and Aoi floated through each day as if their feet no longer touched the ground.
They didn't tell anyone about what had happened by the fountain — that soft, trembling kiss that had changed everything.
They didn't need to.
Their smiles gave them away.
When Aoi walked into class, she could feel it — the warmth of Miyako's gaze from across the room, a quiet, invisible thread pulling her closer. When their hands brushed beneath the desk, just for a second, the rest of the world fell away.
But reality, as always, waited patiently.
And when it came for them, it came without mercy.
---
The first blow came quietly — a rumor dressed in whispers.
Someone had seen them by the fountain. Someone had taken a photo.
Aoi didn't know who started it, or why, but by the end of the week, everyone on campus seemed to know.
The image spread through group chats and social feeds.
Two silhouettes under the soft glow of campus lights, one leaning toward the other, lips close enough to kiss.
It wasn't explicit. It wasn't even clear. But people didn't need clarity when gossip was easier to believe than truth.
---
When Aoi walked through the corridors that Friday, conversations stopped mid-sentence.
She could feel eyes follow her.
Some stared with curiosity. Others with disgust.
And some with pity.
She kept her head down, clutching her books tightly against her chest.
She wanted to disappear.
At lunch, she didn't sit under the camphor tree. She sat in an empty stairwell, picking at her rice ball in silence. Her hands trembled, and her throat ached with the effort of holding herself together.
That was when her phone buzzed.
Miyako:
Where are you?
Aoi:
Don't. People are watching you already.
There was a long pause before Miyako replied.
Miyako:
Let them watch.
---
Aoi didn't see Miyako again until evening.
She was waiting outside the library, sunlight melting into gold behind her.
Miyako looked calm, too calm — her perfect composure stretched thin.
When Aoi approached, she managed a small, brittle smile.
"You shouldn't have come."
Miyako's expression softened. "You think I'd just stay away?"
"You don't understand," Aoi whispered. "They're saying things. About us."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because it's true."
Aoi froze.
Miyako stepped closer, her voice steady but quiet. "They're right, Aoi. I did kiss you. I love you. Why should I pretend otherwise?"
The word love landed like thunder in Aoi's chest.
It was the first time either of them had said it out loud.
And though it filled her with warmth, it also terrified her.
"You can't say that," she whispered. "Not here. Not like this."
"Then where?" Miyako asked, eyes bright with something fierce. "Where is it safe to love you? Tell me, and I'll go there."
Aoi's lips parted, but no words came out.
Miyako sighed softly, her anger melting into tenderness. "Aoi… you didn't do anything wrong."
Aoi looked down. "Then why does it feel like I did?"
---
That weekend, Miyako didn't come to class.
Neither did she answer Aoi's messages.
When she finally appeared on Monday morning, her perfect hair was tied hastily, her uniform wrinkled — something Aoi had never seen before.
She smiled faintly, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"My parents found out," she said quietly when they were alone.
Aoi's breath caught. "How?"
"Someone sent the photo to my mother. I don't know who."
Aoi felt her blood run cold. "What did she say?"
Miyako gave a short, bitter laugh. "She said it was a 'phase.' That I'm confused. That I should stop embarrassing the family."
Aoi reached out, but Miyako shook her head.
"She doesn't understand," Miyako said, voice trembling now. "She kept saying—how could I throw away my future for something so meaningless."
Aoi's heart cracked at the word meaningless.
She grabbed Miyako's hand and held it tight. "It's not meaningless. Not to me."
That was when Miyako finally broke.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, quiet and unrestrained.
Aoi wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close.
Miyako's body trembled against her — all the poise, all the practiced perfection falling away until only the girl beneath remained.
"Why is it so hard to just love someone?" Miyako whispered.
Aoi held her tighter. "Because people are scared of what they don't understand."
---
In the days that followed, the weight of their love grew heavier.
Miyako's friends drifted away — some out of confusion, others out of quiet disapproval.
Aoi became even more of an outcast, whispers following her like shadows.
But through it all, they kept meeting.
In quiet parks after sunset. In empty classrooms after hours.
Sometimes they didn't even talk — they just sat side by side, hands intertwined, letting silence do the speaking.
It was their rebellion.
Their sanctuary.
Each moment together felt fragile and infinite all at once.
---
One night, as cicadas hummed outside Aoi's apartment, Miyako stood by her window, looking out at the narrow street below.
"I used to think love was supposed to be easy," she said softly.
Aoi sat cross-legged on the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. "Maybe it's not supposed to be easy. Maybe that's why it's real."
Miyako turned, her eyes glistening. "You think we can really do this? Go against everyone?"
Aoi smiled faintly. "We already are."
Miyako crossed the room and sat beside her. Their shoulders touched.
After a long silence, Miyako whispered, "If the whole world turned against us… would you still stay?"
Aoi didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Miyako smiled then — the kind of smile that held both hope and pain.
And slowly, she reached for Aoi's face, brushing away a stray strand of hair.
Their lips met again — softer this time, but deeper. No trembling, no hesitation.
It was a promise.
That even if the world never understood them, even if it burned every bridge behind them —
they would still find each other in the ruins.
---
Later, when Miyako finally fell asleep beside her, Aoi stayed awake, tracing the faint lines of her face illuminated by moonlight.
She thought of all the stories that ended with heartbreak and silence.
She thought of how unfair it was that love had to fight so hard just to exist.
And then she thought of Miyako's smile — and decided that maybe, just maybe, that was enough reason to keep fighting.
---