Dragging my feet along the pavement, I sighed.

The evening sun cast long shadows across the street, though it didn’t need to be so cinematic today.

“Did you see what happened?” Sol began. “Those pretentious pricks had the gall to get angry at me for telling the truth.”

He scoffed, still simmering.

“Not everyone is like that. The Lornes weren’t.”

A dried leaf crunched beneath my shoe. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t aimed for it.

Through furrowed brows, Sol shot back, “they just want your company to fill the empty space that is their daughter.”

I was a little taken aback, not expecting him to think about them like that.

I considered what to say—whether to defend the Lornes, agree with him, or say nothing at all.

“Then what about you?” Slowing my pace, I realised Sol was walking too fast. “What do you want?”

He glanced at me from the side, as if checking my expression to see what kind of answer it required. Then he looked forward again, briefly blinded by the sunset, before lowering his gaze.

He said, barely audible, “To be someone who doesn’t need a reason to care about people.”

It was so soft I had to guess at some of the words, but his face told me he didn’t want to repeat himself.

We walked aimlessly without speaking.

I appreciated his presence. I couldn’t help it.

At the same time, the silence felt suffocating.

How long had we known each other for this discomfort to remain between us?

Sol should have been the one to break the tension.

Yet somehow, we both knew it was up to me.

I just didn’t know what he needed from me.

His words replayed in my head. If his care depended on me changing, I might’ve failed him.

Abruptly, I told him I needed to clear my head.

Sol’s eyes left the horizon and settled on me, woefully.

“Please,” he said, pinching my sleeve.

I placed my hand over his. “I’ll see you later at the hotel.”

Sol’s hand lingered on my sleeve for a moment before falling away.

Neither of us said anything else.

I turned and walked.

Knowing where I wanted to go, I headed for the train station.

It felt like escapism—an exit from all of this.

Because it was.

I could picture Sol still looking after me as I put distance between us.

Imagining how much he might think about me while waiting for me to come back brought a small smile to my face.

It also made what I’d just done feel like an attention-seeking stunt.

I’d hate myself if it was.

Orange light seeped through the station windows, etching the rectangular pattern of the window frames onto the granite floor.

I watched the train doors close and the locomotive rumble off, shaking the station as it went.

There was barely anyone here. The wide arch of the roof made the place feel bigger than it was.

It comforted me, knowing I was under no one’s scrutiny.

I walked along the edge of the platform.

To my left lay the exposed tracks. It would probably be safer if there were barriers along the edge.

To my right, elaborately carved pillars marched into the distance.

The station was so empty that each step echoed back at me.

Dragging my fingernails across the chevron-patterned surface of each pillar as I passed, I could imagine people calling me childish.

Or a madman.

Nearing the end of the pillars, my sixth sense told me someone was watching.

I turned towards the seats overlooking the tracks.

There was no one there.

At least, that’s what I thought.

In the far back, on a bench where the light didn’t reach, a pair of gleaming eyes steadily tracked me.

Approaching closer, I confirmed my suspicions about his identity. Haru sat on the bench, legs dangling as he waited for me to come over. He didn’t move even when I stopped right in front of him.

“Can I sit?”

“Can I say no?” he replied, without batting an eye.

It sounded like something Sol would say. But Haru’s expression didn’t change at all, making it impossible to tell if it was meant as a joke.

I sat down beside him. He didn’t protest.

Sitting in silence, we watched a train roll into the station. A handful of passengers got off. No one got on. The train came and went. Haru sat hunched forward, his palms pressed into the bench on either side of him, arms held stiffly straight.

I thought about everything that had happened today, and everything that had led to it.

Sol was hurt, but he got over these things easily. At least, that was what I told myself.

I didn’t know what I would say when I saw him again.

I wished today hadn’t happened.

“A train just came, and you didn’t get on. Why are you here?” The boy spoke.

“I don’t know.”

Haru kept staring at the tracks.

“Then go back and rest.”

“Not yet.”

“Did your partner send you?”

“I can make my own decisions.”

“Then he would’ve followed you here.”

For the first time, Haru turned to look at me.

“Where is he?”

This teenager was really something.

Up close, the resemblance was uncanny.

For a moment, I saw his sister in him.

“H-he went back first.”

“When you go back…” He breathed in. “Tell him I said thank you.” The last bit came out too quickly.

“I will.”

Thankfully, Haru was talking more than I’d expected.

“So why are you here?”

I was glad it was my turn to get some answers. Managing to talk to Haru before our scheduled meeting tomorrow meant I might be able to make some progress without Sol present. Any breakthroughs would be thanks to me.

Haru didn’t respond for a while. I thought he hadn’t heard me.

Before I could repeat the question, he said, “I’m here to be free,” not really looking at me.

“Free from what?”

“Free from…” He frowned. “Free from the noise. And just… having some time to myself.”

It was hard to probe further when his answers gave me nothing to work with.

Fortunately, he spared me the awkwardness by not looking at me.

“What’s your name?”

Even to me, it sounded like a desperate conversation starter.

“I think you already know.”

“...Who was Sora?”

“My sister.”

He looked down at his entwined fingers and said nothing else.

“How was your relationship with her?”

“She’s my family. Of course it was good.”

Eli had said something similar before.

“Do you know what happened?”

“It’s pretty obvious what happened.”

It was getting frustrating. Then again, I could be insufferable too.

“Vera’s parents had no right to speak to you that way.”

“They can say whatever they want. Who are we to dictate that?”

“Do you believe Sora did what she did?”

“Please don’t accuse my sister like that.”

“Did everyone deserve what they got?”

His eyes flashed with anger.

“My sister deserved nothing of the kind.”

He growled the words.

“As for the rest...” His voice faltered. “They picked their poison.”

“Did they?” I asked.

“...”

“What is lost cannot be recovered. It is fate.”

He looked down at the tracks. “It is fate.”

“Holding on to what you hold dear is what makes you human. What is lost only becomes truly lost when you let go of it. But maybe that’s what acceptance is.”

I was blabbering nonsense.

Haru stayed silent.

His face betrayed no sign that he’d heard what I’d said.

“Don’t patronise me,” he said.

“I’m not.”

Only then did I notice the puddle at his feet.

Tears had been streaming down his cheeks the entire time, dripping from his chin onto the granite floor.

I offered him a packet of tissues from my bag.

“You can just let it out. There’s no one here.”

He didn’t take them.

“If I do that, it means they won.”

He said it without acknowledging the tears running down his face, as though he genuinely believed they weren’t there.

I placed the tissue packet beside him.

“No one wins.”

Silence again.

Haru narrowed his eyes against the fatigue. More tears slipped free.

He hung his head.

We sat there for a while as trains came and went.

Eventually, the crying seemed to tire him out.

What remained was exhaustion.

“My sister did it to herself when she thought I was dead,” he whispered. “Now I’m in the same situation she was.”

His fingers tightened together.

“The difference is that she was wrong.”

He swallowed.

“I’m not.”

I sat with his words in silence, afraid to reply.

So that was what happened.

I considered patting his back or shaking some sense into him. Instead, I did nothing.

“This is the part where you comfort me and tell me everything will be okay,” Haru grumbled.

“I don’t like lying.”

He took in what I’d said, then sighed at the ground.

“You’ve done enough for her. Don’t do any more.”

Haru slowly stood.

For the first time that evening, a small smile appeared on his face. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to work something out.

“Did you think that’s why I came here?”

Stopping in front of me, Haru said, “Everything that happened... I regret all of it.”

His gaze drifted away.

“If only they were one-dimensional, then I wouldn’t feel so bad for them.”

I kept quiet, hoping he’d say more.

“There’s a train at midnight. I’ll be on it.”

He looked directly at me. His eyes glimmered from the tears.

“I hope you make up with your partner.”

For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to add something else. Instead, he swallowed the thought.

Then he turned away.

“Goodbye.”

His steps headed toward the station exit, not the edge.

And before I could reply, he hurried off.

I shouldn’t let him leave before tomorrow, especially when he clearly knew more than he was willing to say.

Yet as I stumbled to my feet to go after him, I found myself strangely sluggish.

Did I feel bad for him?

He had come dangerously close to hurting himself, after all.

Normally, I would’ve taken some pride in saving him.

This time, it felt different.

Knowing I might never see him again hurt.

That peculiar boy, who wielded grief like a weapon, was leaving.

I watched from the station entrance as his figure grew smaller and smaller.

If none of this had happened, he wouldn’t have to leave.

Then again, if none of this had happened, I would’ve never known him at all.

And now I was letting him walk away.

I suppose that was fate.

Under the dim streetlights, I strolled back to the hotel alone.

At times like this, I wished for company.

At times like this, everyone around me felt like a stranger.

Every step away from the station made it harder to ignore the feeling that I was losing someone irreplaceable.

Some questions had answers. I wasn’t sure I wanted them.

Turning the corner, I spotted the hotel.

The window I so often looked out of was still lit—Sol hadn’t fallen asleep.

I trudged forward, my eyes drifting to the view I always saw from that window, mentally marking the spot where the birds liked to gather, and where Ren and Eli had once stood hugging.

I wondered if Sol saw me walking just outside, if he cared enough to look through the glass frame.

The doors burst open as I neared the entrance.

Sol stood there, still in his funeral clothes.

Of course he had.

Tentatively, he took a step towards me.

I remembered him telling me how much he liked the wind. It made him feel powerful.

Tonight, he was shivering in it.

“You’re back.”

“I promised I would be.”