There are silences that say more than words.
And there are glances that feel like confessions.
That evening held both.
The sun was slipping behind the university's ivy-covered buildings, casting golden streaks over the cobblestone walkways and illuminating the courtyard in a soft amber hue. Students drifted in pairs or groups, the distant hum of chatter and laughter blending with the rustle of leaves. It was the kind of atmosphere that felt like a sigh — the quiet between classes, between decisions, between the weight of things said and unsaid.
Kaito sat on the stone bench beside Yuuki, just outside the literature hall. His heart hadn't calmed since their last conversation. The words "friends or lovers" still echoed in his chest like a pendulum swinging between comfort and vulnerability. He had fumbled, stuttered, deflected. But Yuuki? She had been calm. Calm, but not cold. Clear, but not pressuring.
And now, they sat again in that liminal space.
"Kaito," Yuuki began softly, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, her gaze focused ahead. "I know I put you on the spot yesterday."
He blinked, looked down at his fingers which were nervously fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. "You didn't. Not really. I… just wasn't ready to answer."
"I wasn't expecting an answer," she said, turning to face him. "I just wanted you to start thinking about it."
Her voice was gentle. Not forceful. Not probing. She was giving him room, like she always did. And that, perhaps, was the most frightening thing of all — that she saw him, understood his pace, and still chose to wait.
A small gust of wind blew past them, lifting a few papers off a nearby student's lap. Kaito instinctively reached to catch one that fluttered their way. Yuuki chuckled as he managed to trap it against his knee, slightly winded from the effort.
"You're surprisingly agile when the world isn't watching," she teased.
Kaito smiled shyly, handing the paper back. "Only when there's no audience."
"Or when it's me?"
That caught him off guard. His lips parted as if to answer, but no sound came out. Yuuki turned back to the horizon, not expecting a reply.
They watched the sun vanish completely now, the shadows lengthening, the orange bleeding into deep purples and blues. The temperature dropped slightly, and Yuuki rubbed her arms.
Without thinking, Kaito shrugged off his hoodie and handed it to her. She hesitated, then accepted it with a small smile.
"You're too kind," she murmured.
Kaito looked down, ears burning. "Or maybe I'm just scared you'll catch a cold and blame me for the rest of the semester."
Yuuki laughed not the polite kind, but one that crinkled the edges of her eyes and made her shoulders shake slightly. Kaito liked that sound more than he was willing to admit.
They sat in silence again, and this time, it felt less like avoidance and more like closeness.
Then Yuuki asked, her voice almost a whisper, "Do you ever wonder what love is supposed to feel like?"
Kaito turned to her slowly. "All the time."
"And?"
"I think… it's supposed to feel like this." He blinked, the words coming before he could stop them. "Like a quiet place inside the noise. Like not needing to hide anymore."
Yuuki's eyes softened. "That's a beautiful answer."
"It's the only one I have," he said, barely audible.
She placed her hand over his — not gripping, just resting there. A soft warmth. Kaito didn't pull away.
"Then let's stay here a while longer," she said.
Back in their dorm later that night, Kaito leaned against the window, watching the lights flicker across the campus. Haru walked in with a sleepy grin and tossed his bag on the floor.
"So," Haru said, grabbing a soda. "Did you finally confess your undying love to the girl who practically stares at you like you invented air?"
Kaito sighed, cheeks warm. "Not exactly."
"You're hopeless," Haru grinned. "But I'm rooting for you, Roomie. Even if you're slow as a snail."
He slumped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. "You ever think we're not meant to be loved, Haru?"
Haru opened one eye. "Dude. That's emo even for you."
"I'm serious."
Haru sat up. "Kaito. Look, I get it. You've been through a lot. People suck. Trust is hard. But Yuuki's not just *anyone.* She sees you. I mean really sees you. That's rare. And that's scary. But that's also real."
Kaito was quiet.
"And you don't have to rush into anything," Haru added. "But if it's real… don't let fear make the decision for you."
That night, Kaito didn't sleep. His mind wandered to Yuuki's smile, her voice, the weight of her hand over his. The world was a storm — cruel, noisy, unpredictable. But she was a harbor. And maybe… maybe he could be one too.
The next day on campus, Sayaka watched the two of them from a distance — Kaito and Yuuki, walking side by side, their shoulders just a breath apart. Sayaka bit into her sandwich a little too aggressively and muttered under her breath, "Disgusting…"
But her eyes softened a little too, and a small smile curled at the corner of her lips.
"Just don't mess it up, Kaito," she whispered. "Or I'll kill you."
That evening, Kaito stood at Yuuki's dorm building. She opened the door with a curious smile.
"Hey," he said, scratching the back of his head.
"Hey," she replied.
"I was thinking," he said, heart thundering. "About what you asked."
Yuuki tilted her head.
"I don't know what a lover is supposed to be," Kaito admitted. "But I know I want to be more than just your friend. I want to… try."
Yuuki stared at him for a long moment, then stepped forward, resting her forehead gently against his.
"That's all I needed to hear."
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Kaito didn't flinch away.