That night, I couldn’t sleep.

The quiet of my room felt louder than usual.

I buried my face into the pillow, but my heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him standing by the gate — nervous, kind, and a little awkward, just like always.

I don’t know where that courage came from.

Maybe from the way he looked at me earlier that day — like I was someone who mattered.

My lips still tingled from the kiss I gave him.

Just a small one, just a whisper of what I really felt, but… I  hope it was enough.

For the first time, I wasn’t afraid of how I felt.

I wanted to hold on to it — that moment when I wasn’t just a quiet girl sitting beside him,

but someone who reached for him.

I hugged my pillow tighter.

Somewhere deep inside, I knew something had changed between us — something fragile and beautiful.

My eyes wandered to the photo frame on my desk — my grandmother smiling beside a younger me.

It reminded me of the first time I saw Haruto.

It was not in school.

It was at his grandfather’s funeral.

I was a still a bit young then, standing quietly beside my grandmother.

He stood alone, small, silent, eyes fixed on the grave long after everyone else had gone.

The rain had started falling, but he didn’t move.

There was no one to call his name, no one to tell him to come home.

Even then, he didn’t cry.

He just stood there —

like someone who had already learned how to live with loss.

I remember thinking, how can someone look so alone and yet so calm?

That image of him never left me.

Maybe that’s why, when I saw him again after so much time later…

I wanted to fill those eyes with something else.

I wanted him to know —

he was never alone.

If only I could tell him that again tomorrow.

If only he felt every word I wanted to say through my actions.

If only —

(fade to black)

---

The world felt… different that morning.

Softer somehow. Brighter.

For the first time in years, I woke up with a smile before even realizing why.

Then it all came rushing back — her mother’s teasing grin, Tsukiko’s flushed cheeks, and that quiet, trembling “Yes.”

And finally… the warmth of her kiss.

It still lingered on my cheek like sunlight that refused to fade.

I sat up, half laughing at myself.

“Get it together, Haruto,” I muttered — but even my voice sounded lighter than usual.

The air felt kind, the room less empty.

The same faded walls, the same old furniture — and yet, everything looked alive, as if touched by something unseen.

Maybe that’s what she did…

She gave colour to the world again.

I opened my old diary.

Its pages were heavy with ink, with loneliness, with memories I once believed would never change.

Black words on white paper — that was my life.

Until she arrived.

I flipped to a blank page, and for the first time, the words came easily.

I closed the diary and exhaled.

It was strange — how happiness could feel so fragile, like holding glass between your fingers.

---

The morning light poured through the window as I got ready for school.

Same uniform, same route, same sounds — but none of it felt the same.

Even the passing wind felt gentler, as if it too carried her name.

This is maybe exactly how falling in love feels like.

When I reached the school gate, a few students whispered — glances, smiles, laughter that wasn’t cruel, just curious.

“Is it true? Haruto and Tsukiko?”

Someone said it loud enough for me to hear.

Normally, I would’ve turned away.

But this time, I didn’t.

If Tsukiko could be brave enough to say it out loud…

Then so could I.

I walked past the murmurs, my chest strangely steady.

Inside the classroom, she was already there — surrounded by her friends, sunlight spilling through the window onto her desk.

She looked up for just a second.

Our eyes met.

And that one look — that single look — made everything else disappear.

She smiled.

Small. Real.

Like a secret only we shared.

Then the teacher entered, and the chatter quieted.

The exam papers were handed out.

And as I took mine, I thought —

Maybe this is what peace feels like.

________

The exam break had begun.

The corridors were quieter than usual, filled with that soft, fading light of late afternoon.

Haruto walked up to the rooftop, a place that had always felt like the edge of another world. On his way, his eyes met Aya’s. She didn’t say a word — only smiled, a warm, reassuring smile, like someone who understood everything without needing to speak.

For the first time, Haruto smiled back with a slight confidence in his heart.

When he stepped onto the rooftop, the air felt gentler than ever — as if the sky itself wanted this moment to be perfect.

And then she appeared.

Tsukiko — her steps small, her hair moving lightly in the wind, her face glowing like spring sunlight. Everything was the same as before… and yet somehow more peaceful, more dreamlike, as if the world had slowed down just to let them breathe.

They talked softly.

About nothing important — and yet everything was beautiful.

Tsukiko blushed when she remembered the things she’d said before, hiding her face behind her hands, her voice trembling with quiet joy.

When the bell rang, she brushed the creases on her uniform and said gently,

“See you later.”

She turned toward the stairs, her hair glinting gold in the sun.

Haruto felt something inside him ache — he couldn’t let her just walk away again. Not this time.

His hands trembled. His heart raced so fast he thought it might stop.

And then, before he could think —

he called out.

“Tsukiko!”

She paused mid-step.

The words echoed across the rooftop, carried by the wind. They were pure, unfiltered, everything he’d been too afraid to say until now.

Tsukiko froze.

Then slowly, she turned.

Her eyes were wide — her lips parted — her cheeks flushed pink with shy surprise.

And then she smiled.

That same beautiful, gentle smile that could stop time itself.

But in that very moment — as she turned on the step — her foot slipped.

The world lost its color.

Sound vanished.

He reached out, but the distance between them stretched like eternity. Her body fell — slowly, painfully — her smile fading as she tumbled down the stairs.

The crash echoed like a broken dream.

Haruto ran down, stumbling, his hands shaking.

She lay there — still, fragile — crimson threads creeping from her head, painting the floor like spilled petals.

He lifted her head into his arms, his voice breaking, his heart tearing open.

Her eyes fluttered weakly, searching for him. Tears formed in the corners, trembling like tiny worlds about to fall apart.

“Ha...ru...to…”

“I’m here, I’m here — please don’t close your eyes —”

She smiled faintly, her lips trembling.

Her hand reached for his cheek — but it fell halfway.

Her breath faded in his hands.

The warmth slipped away, leaving only silence.

And as he held her, the world around him shattered — color draining into white and black.

The wind stopped.

The sun dimmed.

---

“And just like that… the light that had finally reached him was gone.”

The Sun and the clouds painted the sky in colors too beautiful for such a cruel day.

Haruto sat on the empty stairs, Tsukiko’s ribbon clutched tightly in his trembling hand — the last warmth that hadn’t yet faded.

The world below carried on, unknown to what had happened.

Laughter drifted faintly from the fields, the breeze brushed gently past the fading clouds… but for him, everything was silent.

He looked at the ribbon, stained faintly with her blood, and his voice broke into the wind.

His words dissolved into a sob, the sound lost somewhere between the clouds and the dying light.

The ribbon slipped from his numbed fingers, carried away by the wind —

a soft flash of color vanishing into the horizon, like her smile fading from his world.