A Love Written In Tears

The days passed in a quiet, delicate balance. Haruki still kept his distance, but he no longer ignored Aoi's presence. She sat with him during lunch. Walked home with him when he let her. Talked, even when he only listened.

She never asked him why he was the way he was.

And he never told her.

But something between them had changed.

One evening, as they walked home under the soft glow of Tokyo's streetlights, Aoi broke the silence.

"You know," she said, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets, "I think you're a liar."

Haruki raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She nodded. "You act like you don't care, but you do. You act like you don't want people close, but you let me in. And you act like you don't feel anything, but I see it."

Haruki let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You're overthinking things."

"Maybe," Aoi said, stepping ahead of him and turning to face him, walking backward. "But I'd rather overthink than pretend I don't see what's in front of me."

Haruki stopped.

For a moment, he just stared at her—his dark eyes unreadable, his expression carefully neutral. Then, ever so slightly, his lips curved into a small, tired smile.

"You really are stubborn," he murmured.

Aoi grinned. "And you're really bad at pushing people away."

He didn't deny it.

They kept walking.

The city was alive around them—distant laughter, the hum of traffic, neon signs flickering against the night. But in that moment, it felt like there was only the two of them.

Then, as they reached the street where they usually parted ways, Haruki suddenly spoke.

"Aoi," he said quietly.

She turned to him. "Yeah?"

He hesitated.

Then—

"…Never mind."

Aoi frowned. "What is it?"

Haruki looked up at the sky. "It's nothing."

Liar, she thought.

But she didn't push.

Instead, she smiled and said, "See you tomorrow, Haruki."

He nodded. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

But as she walked away, she couldn't shake the feeling—

Haruki was saying goodbye.

And he thought she wouldn't notice.

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