The campus was peaceful in the lavender hush of twilight. Cherry blossoms drifted gently in the breeze, students lingered on the lawn in small groups, and laughter echoed faintly through the open courtyard.

But inside Livi’s dorm room, none of that calm could reach her.

The walls were plastered with color—photos of festivals, club nights, train rides, birthdays. Strings of fairy lights framed dozens of sticky notes: “Spring picnic idea 🌸,” “Karaoke w/ the gang?” “Group grad photo — MUST.” She had written each one like a promise to the future. But tonight, they felt like lies.

Livi sat curled on the edge of her bed, pillow pressed to her chest, breath caught in her throat. Her eyes stung, but she hadn’t let herself cry. Not yet.

If I just hold it together a little longer, she told herself. If I plan one more thing… keep them close one more time… maybe it won’t all fall apart.

But the pressure wouldn’t stop building.

A photo beside her desk caught her eye—one from their second year. She remembered the exact moment: Ren making Sora laugh with a sarcastic joke. Dylan trying to capture it. Hikari blinking in the middle of a sneeze. She’d printed it that night, pinned it with a pink thumbtack.

Her vision blurred.

And then—she cracked.

Tears welled up and spilled over all at once, like someone had pulled the last thread holding her together. She pressed her face into the pillow, her whole body shaking.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she whispered, the words escaping in a broken breath. “I’m so tired of trying to hold onto everyone. Of pretending nothing’s changing.”

The sobs came in waves—silent at first, then aching, raw. The kind of tears that don’t ask permission.

She buried her face, hoping the sound wouldn’t escape the room.

But it did.

A knock came.

Livi froze.

She tried to wipe her eyes, her hands trembling. “Who is it?” she called, her voice shaky.

“It’s me,” came Hikari’s soft voice. “Can I come in?”

Livi swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah…”

The door creaked open, and Hikari stepped inside. Her eyes softened instantly as they met Livi’s tear-streaked face, her crumpled posture on the bed.

She said nothing.

Just crossed the room and sat beside her.

Livi looked away, ashamed. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”

“Why not?” Hikari asked gently.

Livi’s throat tightened. “Because I’m supposed to be the strong one. The planner. The glue.”

Hikari didn’t speak. She let Livi breathe. Let the silence fill the space, so Livi didn’t feel rushed to patch herself up.

After a long moment, Livi’s voice cracked. “I’ve been trying so hard to keep us close. To hold everything together so nothing changes. But it’s still slipping away. I feel like… like I’m the only one who’s scared.”

“You’re not,” Hikari said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Livi let the tears fall freely now. “What if, after we graduate, everyone just forgets me? What if all this—everything we’ve built—just fades?”

Hikari placed a hand on her back and rubbed slow, gentle circles.

“You’re not going to disappear, Liv. Not to us.”

Livi shook her head. “You say that now… but once life moves on, people stop checking in. They get new lives. New friends. New everything.”

She looked up, voice raw. “And then what? What am I supposed to be, if I’m not the one holding it all together?”

Hikari’s eyes filled, not with pity—but with something quiet and steady.

“You were never just the planner,” she said. “You were our heart. You still are.”

Livi blinked. “But—”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to schedule us into each other’s lives to matter. You’re part of us, Liv. Not because of the things you do. But because of who you are.”

Livi was silent.

Outside the window, a breeze rustled the paper notes still stuck to her wall. Her gaze drifted there.

“I don’t know how to let go,” she said softly.

Hikari nodded. “Maybe it’s not about letting go completely. Maybe it’s about trusting that what you’ve built can stand without you gripping it so tightly.”

Another long silence. Livi leaned against her, eyes closed.

Finally, she let out a small, bitter laugh. “I even made a shared doc for our summer reunion plans. Sora hasn’t even opened it.”

Hikari smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ll still plan it. That’s who you are. But maybe next time, you plan it because you want to—not because you’re afraid.”

Livi breathed in slowly, the air feeling less sharp now. She reached behind her, pulled one sticky note off the wall—“Plan surprise cherry blossom picnic — no rain!! 🌸”

She folded it quietly, held it in her palm.

“Maybe… this one can stay a memory.”

Hikari smiled gently. “That’s okay.”

Livi closed her eyes, holding the folded note to her chest.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was drowning. She didn’t feel fixed, either.

Just… lighter.