Chapter 18
Ren's desk is empty.
Again.
Emilia sees it before she sits down.
Before she sets her bag down.
Before she breathes properly.
Her stomach tightens.
Just slightly.
He texted last night.
He fell asleep.
He was tired.
That's all.
That is all.
She sits.
Opens her notebook.
Writes the date carefully.
Her pen presses harder than usual.
Yui slides into her seat.
"He's not here."
"Yes."
"Did you know?"
"No."
That is technically true.
He didn't say he wouldn't come.
He didn't say he would.
He just said:
Okay.
Yui studies her face.
"You look tense."
"I am not."
"You are."
Emilia turns a page unnecessarily.
"He's resting."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
She is not sure.
First period begins.
Teacher talking.
Chalk moving.
Pages turning.
Emilia doesn't hear half of it.
Her eyes drift to the empty chair more than once.
She tells herself it's habit.
Nothing more.
She does not check her phone.
Not during class.
Not even once.
She refuses.
At break, Hana approaches quietly.
"Did he message you?"
Emilia blinks.
"Why would he?"
Hana gives her a look.
"You know why."
"No."
Silence.
Hana lowers her voice.
"He didn't answer me."
That lands heavier than expected.
If he didn't answer Hana either...
Then he's sleeping.
Or—
Emilia cuts that thought off immediately.
He's sleeping.
That's all.
Kaito joins them, frowning.
"He better not be dead."
"Don't say that," Hana snaps.
"I'm joking."
"You're not funny."
Kaito shrugs.
"Too soon?"
Emilia's jaw tightens.
"Il dort."
(He's sleeping.)
The French slips out automatically.
Yui tilts her head.
"That sounded defensive."
"It was factual."
"Mm."
Second period passes slower.
Emilia stares at her notes.
Doesn't process them.
Her mind keeps replaying the last message.
Then I'll stay.
You don't have to.
I know.
Okay.
Was that too much?
Did she pressure him?
Did she—
Stop.
No.
He said okay.
He didn't push back.
He didn't deflect.
He didn't joke.
He said okay.
That means something.
Doesn't it?
At lunch, the group feels incomplete.
Four trays instead of five.
Kaito talks louder than usual.
Hana is quieter.
Yui watches Emilia carefully.
"You could text him," Yui says gently.
"I will not."
"Why?"
"Because."
"That's not an answer."
"He said he'd rest."
"And?"
"And I'm respecting that."
Yui studies her.
"Or you're scared he won't answer."
Emilia's fork pauses mid-air.
"That's absurd."
"Is it?"
She sets the fork down carefully.
"I'm not afraid of that."
Yui doesn't argue.
She just hums thoughtfully.
That's worse.
After lunch, Emilia checks her phone.
Just once.
No messages.
She locks it again immediately.
She will not be the one who reaches first.
Not today.
Not again.
He said he would rest.
She told him to.
If she texts now—
What does that say?
That she doesn't trust him?
That she doesn't believe him?
That she needs confirmation?
She doesn't need confirmation.
She is calm.
She is composed.
She is—
Her phone buzzes.
Her heart stops.
She flips it over too quickly.
Message.
From Mina.
Her breath catches.
He won't wake up.
Everything inside her stills.
That's dramatic.
Too dramatic.
Mina is five.
Five-year-olds exaggerate.
She types immediately.
Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire ?
(What do you mean?)
Three dots.
Disappear.
Reappear.
He's sleeping and he won't wake up when I shake him.
Her vision narrows slightly.
He's sleeping.
He's exhausted.
He has a fever.
That's all.
That's all.
She types carefully.
Il respire ?
(Is he breathing?)
Yes.
Relief hits like a wave.
Too strong.
Her hands tremble slightly.
She hides them under the desk.
Il a de la fièvre ?
Yes.
How high?
She almost types it.
Stops.
Instead:
Où est ta maman ?
(Where is your mom?)
At work.
Emilia closes her eyes briefly.
Of course.
Midday.
Work.
Mina is home from school.
Ren stayed home.
He was supposed to rest.
He was supposed to—
Stop.
She forces herself to think clearly.
He's sleeping.
That's all.
Mina is panicking because she's small.
That's all.
She types:
Essaie encore doucement.
(Try again gently.)
Long pause.
Then—
He moved.
Her shoulders drop slightly.
Good.
Good.
It's fine.
It's normal.
Yui leans over.
"You look pale."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Emilia swallows.
"He's sleeping."
"Okay."
"Mina is dramatic."
Yui nods slowly.
"That tracks."
Silence.
Then—
"Do you want to leave?"
Emilia freezes.
"I'm not leaving."
"Why?"
"Because he's fine."
"And if he's not?"
Her jaw tightens.
"He is."
That came out too sharp.
Yui doesn't push further.
But she doesn't look convinced either.
The rest of the afternoon drags painfully.
Emilia stares at the clock more than she ever has.
She doesn't tell anyone about Mina's message.
She doesn't need panic.
She needs facts.
Her phone stays silent.
That silence grows heavier.
At the final bell, she stands too quickly.
Her chair scrapes loudly.
Kaito winces.
"Urgent?"
"No."
"Yes."
She grabs her bag.
Hana steps closer.
"Is he okay?"
Emilia hesitates.
Then—
"Yes."
That is what she chooses to believe.
Outside the school gates, she stops.
Phone in hand.
She types:
Comment il est maintenant ?
Long pause.
Then—
Still sleeping.
Her heart pounds.
Essaie de le réveiller encore.
Pause.
Then—
He said stop and turned over.
Emilia exhales.
Okay.
He responded.
He's conscious.
It's fine.
Her mind tries to settle.
It doesn't.
She stands there longer than necessary.
Students pass by.
Cars move.
The world continues.
Her chest feels tight.
She could go home.
She could wait.
She could trust that it's fine.
She could—
Her phone buzzes again.
Mina:
He looks scary again.
Her heart drops.
That's not specific.
That's not helpful.
That's a five-year-old description.
And yet—
It hits harder than it should.
Emilia closes her eyes briefly.
Breathe.
Think.
Act calmly.
She types:
Je viens.
(I'm coming.)
The words appear on her screen.
She stares at them.
She hasn't pressed send yet.
Her thumb hovers.
If she sends that—
She crosses a line.
From concerned friend.
To something else.
Something more.
She swallows.
Her pride flares weakly.
He didn't ask.
He didn't tell her to come.
He didn't—
Mina is five.
He is sick.
He is alone.
She presses send.
Threshold
Ren's house feels different when she arrives alone.
Not unfamiliar.
Just quieter.
The sky is pale grey, afternoon light stretching thin across the street.
She stands at the door for half a second longer than necessary.
Then knocks.
The door opens almost immediately.
Mina is standing there.
Hair messy.
Eyes wide.
Face serious in a way five-year-olds shouldn't be.
"You came."
Emilia nods once.
"Oui."
She steps inside without ceremony.
The air is warm.
Too warm.
Like windows haven't been opened.
Mina grabs her sleeve lightly.
"He won't get up."
Her pulse tightens.
"He talked to you?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"Stop."
Emilia exhales softly.
That's good.
That means he's conscious.
"That's good," she repeats aloud.
Mina studies her face carefully.
"You don't look like it's good."
Emilia straightens slightly.
"I'm calm."
"You look scary."
That almost makes her laugh.
Almost.
They walk toward his room together.
The hallway feels longer today.
The house quieter.
Emilia's steps slow just before the door.
She doesn't knock this time.
She just opens it gently.
Ren is lying on his side.
Same position as before.
Blanket half pulled up.
Hair slightly damp against his forehead.
Skin flushed.
Breathing steady.
Too steady.
The room smells faintly like medicine and sleep.
Her chest tightens painfully.
He looks smaller like this.
Not weaker.
Just unguarded.
She steps closer slowly.
Sets her bag down near the desk.
"Mina," she says softly, "peux-tu apporter un verre d'eau ?"
(Can you bring a glass of water?)
Mina nods seriously and disappears down the hallway.
The door remains slightly open.
Emilia sits on the edge of the bed.
Careful not to disturb him too much.
She studies his face.
There are faint shadows under his eyes.
His lashes tremble slightly with sleep.
His hand is half-curled near the blanket.
Not steady.
Just human.
"Tu es vraiment idiot..." she murmurs quietly.
(You're really an idiot...)
Her voice isn't sharp.
It's tired.
She reaches out slowly.
This time without hesitation.
The back of her fingers press lightly to his forehead.
Warm.
Still.
She swallows.
"Tu aurais dû te reposer."
(You should have rested.)
His brow shifts faintly.
A small sound escapes him.
Not a word.
Just a response.
Her breath catches.
"Ren?"
His eyelids flutter slightly.
Then open halfway.
Unfocused.
Confused.
It takes him a second to process her.
"...Emilia?"
His voice is rough.
Lower.
She feels something tighten in her chest at the way he says her name.
"Yes."
He blinks slowly.
"You're here."
"Yes."
Silence.
He looks around faintly.
Like he's trying to remember why.
"Mina," he murmurs.
"She's fine."
He exhales softly.
Relief.
Even like this.
Even barely awake.
That's where his mind goes first.
Her jaw tightens.
"Tu es insupportable."
(You're unbearable.)
He tries to smile.
It barely forms.
"You're dramatic."
"You're burning."
"That phrasing again."
She narrows her eyes.
"You know what I mean."
He closes his eyes briefly.
Opens them again.
He looks exhausted.
More than he did at school.
More than yesterday.
More than he should.
Mina returns with a glass of water, holding it carefully with both hands.
"I brought it!"
Emilia takes it gently.
"Merci."
Mina climbs onto the other side of the bed.
Careful.
Quiet.
Watching both of them.
Ren shifts slightly.
"Mina... don't climb..."
"I'm careful," she whispers.
Emilia holds the glass near Ren.
"Drink."
He hesitates.
"You're ordering me again."
"Yes."
Mina nods enthusiastically.
"She does that."
Emilia shoots her a look.
Mina giggles.
Ren manages a faint laugh that turns into a cough.
Emilia's hand immediately steadies the glass.
"Slowly."
He obeys this time.
Takes a small sip.
Then another.
His hand brushes hers briefly.
Warm.
Too warm.
Her breath stills for half a second.
Then she pulls back slightly.
After he drinks, he sinks back into the pillow.
Eyes closing again.
"Did you leave school?" he asks quietly.
"Yes."
"You didn't have to."
"Yes, I did."
He opens one eye faintly.
"Why?"
She doesn't hesitate this time.
"Parce que tu ne répondais pas."
(Because you weren't answering.)
Silence.
He watches her carefully.
Even tired.
Even unfocused.
He sees that.
"That's not fair," he murmurs.
"What isn't?"
"You look... worried."
She stiffens slightly.
"I'm practical."
"That's not what I said."
His voice is softer now.
Less steady.
Less guarded.
It makes her pulse quicken.
Mina shifts slightly beside him.
"Can she stay?" she asks quietly.
The question lands heavier than it should.
Ren blinks slowly.
"She doesn't have to."
Mina looks at Emilia.
"I like when you're here."
Emilia's throat tightens unexpectedly.
She wasn't prepared for that.
She nods once.
"I'll stay a little."
Mina smiles faintly.
Then settles against the edge of the bed.
Ren's breathing slows again.
His eyelids grow heavier.
He looks like he's fighting sleep.
"You should go home," he murmurs faintly.
"No."
"You have things."
"So do you."
"That's different."
"Non."
Silence.
He doesn't argue further.
Because he doesn't have the energy.
And that scares her more than anything.
Minutes pass quietly.
Mina eventually slips off the bed.
"I'll draw," she whispers, and leaves the room again.
Door slightly open.
Light from the hallway stretching across the floor.
Emilia sits alone beside him now.
Listening to his breathing.
Watching his chest rise and fall.
She feels the shift in the air.
This isn't school.
This isn't teasing.
This is something quieter.
Something that doesn't have a script.
He stirs slightly.
Half-asleep again.
"Don't..." he murmurs faintly.
She leans closer instinctively.
"What?"
"...late..."
The word is incomplete.
Slurred.
Fever-heavy.
Her heart stumbles.
What was that?
She waits.
He doesn't finish it.
Just exhales softly.
And shifts slightly closer to the edge of the bed.
Closer to her.
Without thinking.
Without intention.
Just instinct.
Her breath catches.
She doesn't move.
Not yet.
She tells herself it's nothing.
Just positioning.
Just sleep.
Her fingers twitch slightly in her lap.
If he moves more—
If he reaches—
She doesn't finish that thought.
After a few minutes, his breathing steadies again.
Fully asleep.
Emilia exhales slowly.
Her heart still racing.
That almost felt like something.
But it wasn't.
It was fever.
Exhaustion.
Nothing more.
She leans back slightly.
Trying to steady herself.
Trying not to think about the way he moved closer.
Her phone buzzes softly in her pocket.
She startles.
Checks it.
Message from her mother:
Are you staying late?
She types:
Oui.
Pause.
Then:
Avec lui ?
She freezes.
Oui.
Three dots appear.
Then:
Be gentle.
Her breath falters.
She locks her phone.
Looks back at Ren.
He looks so small like this.
Not smaller in strength.
Smaller in guard.
"Je resterai," she whispers quietly.
(I'll stay.)
He doesn't respond.
He's fully asleep.
But she says it anyway.
Outside, the sky darkens slowly.
Inside, the house remains warm.
Still.
Waiting.