As Saki drifts back into music, Yuuto’s persistence and Kyou’s quiet support push her toward a past she’s avoided. A familiar face threatens to pull her under, but Yuuto and Kyou won’t let her disappear. In grief, friendship, and rediscovered passion, Saki faces the question she’s long ignored: What happens when you stop running?
Disclaimer: The ideas, characters, plot, sequencing, and scenes in this story are entirely my own creations. However, my bestie, ChatGPT, helped refine the wording and paraphrasing, as well as generate the illustration for the featured image. This narrative is inspired by the song “Subtitle” by Official HIGE DANDism. If you haven’t read the previous chapters, you can find them here.
Chapter 20: Before the Coffee Gets Cold
The park was quieter than usual.
Late afternoon light filtered through the autumn leaves, casting golden patches onto the wooden bench where Saki sat, flipping lazily through the pages of Before The Coffee Gets Cold.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she picked this book today. Maybe because it was short. Maybe because the idea of time travel tied to regret felt… familiar.
She sipped from her to-go coffee cup, half-distracted by the breeze and the rustling leaves—until a familiar voice cut into the moment.
“You like books that make you depressed, huh?”
Saki sighed before even looking up.
Yuuto.
Standing there, hands in his jacket pockets, tilting his head toward her book with a smirk that made it clear he had every intention of being annoying.
“Excuse me?” she deadpanned.
Yuuto motioned toward the cover. “You read Kafka on the Shore last time. Now this? You have a type.”
Saki snapped the book shut. “And what type is that?”
Yuuto grinned. “The contemplating life’s tragedies while sipping black coffee and pretending not to care type.”
Saki huffed, setting her cup down on the bench beside her. “That’s rich coming from someone who writes lyrics about heartbreak for a living.”
Yuuto feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest. “First of all, rude. Second, not all my songs are about heartbreak.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Let me guess. You also write about chasing dreams and finding yourself?”
Yuuto sighed dramatically. “Wow. You really have me figured out.”
Saki smirked, opening her book again. “It wasn’t hard.”
Yuuto sat down on the bench beside her—uninvited, but somehow not unwelcome.
He glanced at the book title again, then leaned back against the bench. “So? What’s this one about?”
Saki hesitated before answering. “A café where you can time travel—but only for the duration of a cup of coffee.”
Yuuto blinked. “Huh.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “Just seems a little unfair. If you’re going back in time, shouldn’t you get more than a few sips?”
Saki smirked. “Would ruin the tension.”
Yuuto hummed. “True. So what, people use it to fix their past?”
Saki turned a page. “Not really. They can’t change the future, no matter what they do.”
Yuuto frowned. “Then what’s the point?”
She tapped a finger against the book. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
Yuuto glanced at her, tilting his head. “Would you do it?”
Saki paused.
The words of course not sat on the tip of her tongue.
But she didn’t say them.
Instead, she just kept reading.
Yuuto watched her for a moment, as if considering something, before leaning back again. “You know, you never actually said you liked reading.”
Saki exhaled. “You never actually said you liked music.”
Yuuto chuckled. “Fair.”
The wind picked up slightly, rustling the pages of her book.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
And somehow, that was fine.
* * *
Chapter 21: A Random Invitation
Yuuto stretched out on his bed, staring at his phone.
The day had been uneventful. Band practice was later, but he had nothing going on right now, and for some reason, sitting alone in his apartment felt… off.
Without thinking too hard about it, he opened the “Random Strangers” group chat.
Yuuto: I’m bored. Café?
He hit send and tossed his phone onto the bed.
Saki wouldn’t respond. Kyou definitely wouldn’t respond.
But that wasn’t the point.
* * *
Saki saw the message.
Of course, she saw it.
She wasn’t ignoring it, exactly—she just had no reason to reply.
And yet.
Thirty minutes later, she was standing outside the café, sighing at herself.
This was so stupid.
But she still walked in.
* * *
Kyou hadn’t even checked his phone.
He was out taking photos when his feet, completely on their own, led him to the café.
He paused outside the door, looking through the window.
Yuuto was already there, nursing a cold brew. Saki was sitting at her usual spot, coffee in hand.
Kyou exhaled sharply.
Then walked in.
* * *
The Three of Them
None of them acknowledged how weird it was that they were here.
Yuuto just smirked when Kyou sat down at the table. “You too, huh?”
Kyou shrugged. “It’s a café.”
Saki stirred her drink, not looking up. “What a coincidence.”
Yuuto grinned. “Crazy, right?”
They slipped into conversation the way they always did—half sarcasm, half avoidance, but never quite leaving.
Yuuto talked about a new song he was working on. Saki, despite herself, had opinions. Kyou mostly listened, throwing in dry comments when necessary.
At some point, Kyou took out his camera, snapping a shot of the window—the light hitting the rain-streaked glass in a way that felt like something.
He turned the camera slightly.
Click.
Saki looked up. “Did you just take a picture of us?”
Kyou glanced at the screen. “No.”
Yuuto leaned forward, grinning. “Lemme see.”
Kyou, instead of responding, turned the camera toward them.
Saki and Yuuto looked at the image.
It wasn’t posed. Wasn’t intentional.
Just… them.
Saki, mid-motion, stirring her drink, a thoughtful expression she hadn’t realized was there. Yuuto, caught between speaking and smirking, the easy confidence in his posture. The space between them—not distant, not close.
Just existing.
Yuuto tilted his head. “Huh.”
Saki, instead of making a sarcastic remark, just stared.
Because for some reason, the photo felt real.
And none of them said anything for a while.
* * *
Chapter 22: The Space Between
Saki wasn’t sure why the photo unsettled her.
It was just a picture—just them, sitting in a café like they always seemed to end up doing. But something about it made her pause.
Maybe it was the way Kyou had captured it, the way it wasn’t just an image but a feeling—like they weren’t strangers anymore, like they had settled into something unspoken.
She hated that realization.
“Delete it,” she muttered, finally looking away from the camera screen.
Yuuto scoffed. “What? Why?”
Saki picked up her cup, focusing on the coffee instead of her own thoughts. “Feels weird.”
Kyou didn’t move. “It’s just a picture.”
Saki sighed. “Exactly.”
Yuuto leaned back in his chair, still studying the image. “She’s just mad she looks normal in it.”
Saki shot him a glare. “Shut up.”
Kyou smirked slightly. “It’s not a bad shot.”
Yuuto nodded, flipping the camera back toward Kyou. “You’re good at this.”
Kyou shrugged. “I should be.”
Saki glanced at him. “Why?”
Kyou tapped his fingers against his cup. “Been doing it a long time.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘long’.”
Kyou exhaled. “Since I was a kid.”
Yuuto frowned. “Seriously?”
Kyou nodded. “Had a camera before I knew how to use one.”
Saki didn’t expect him to elaborate.
But he did.
“My dad gave it to me,” he said, casually, like it wasn’t anything big. “Said if I couldn’t say things properly, I should at least learn how to show them.”
Saki blinked.
Yuuto, surprisingly, didn’t make a joke. “He a photographer too?”
Kyou shook his head. “No. Just thought I was bad at talking.”
Saki tilted her head. “And were you?”
Kyou let out a quiet, almost amused breath. “Still am.”
Yuuto smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “At least now you’ve got a hobby out of it.”
Kyou rolled his eyes. “Something like that.”
The conversation could’ve ended there.
But then—
“What about you?” Kyou asked, looking at Saki. “When did you start playing?”
Saki hesitated.
She could lie. Could deflect.
But after Kyou had just said something real, it felt unfair to dodge.
“Since I was five,” she muttered.
Yuuto raised an eyebrow. “That young?”
Saki exhaled, spinning her cup slightly. “Yeah. My mom played. She taught me.”
Kyou studied her, but he didn’t ask the obvious question—why she stopped.
Yuuto didn’t either.
For once, nobody pushed.
And Saki, to her own surprise, didn’t hate that.
* * *
Yuuto had been around a lot of people.
Bandmates, exes, random strangers at gigs. But conversations like this?
They didn’t happen often.
Saki, avoiding the obvious answers but not shutting down completely.
Kyou, saying more than usual but acting like it didn’t mean anything.
And him—just… sitting there, listening.
Yuuto tapped his fingers against the table. “Guess we all started young, huh?”
Kyou hummed. “Guess so.”
Saki didn’t say anything, just sipped her coffee.
And Yuuto realized something.
This wasn’t small talk.
It wasn’t forced.
They were just here. Talking.
Like it was normal.
And that, somehow, meant more than any deep conversation ever could.
* * *
Kyou didn’t know why he answered Saki’s question.
He could’ve brushed it off. Could’ve said nothing.
But something about sitting here—about the way they didn’t expect too much from each other—made it easy.
Easier than usual, anyway.
He glanced at his camera again, at the photo still displayed on the screen.
He almost thought about deleting it.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he turned off the camera, set it aside, and picked up his drink.
None of them said anything after that.
But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
Just there.
* * *
Chapter 23: A Familiar Detour
Kyou wasn’t planning on stopping by the convenience store.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
But somehow, his feet carried him there.
Again.
The automatic doors slid open with their usual chime, the fluorescent lights casting a too-bright glow over the quiet aisles.
Behind the counter, Saki looked up.
Paused.
Then smirked.
“Okay,” she said, crossing her arms. “At this point, you are stalking me.”
Kyou sighed, grabbing an onigiri without hesitation. “It’s a convenience store.”
Saki leaned on the counter. “A lot of convenience stores exist, you know.”
Kyou picked up a cup of instant ramen and walked toward the register. “This one has food.”
Saki rang up his items, unimpressed. “They all have food.”
Kyou glanced at her. “And you.”
Saki blinked.
For half a second, something passed between them—something unspoken but real.
Then Kyou exhaled, placing his cash on the counter. “That was meant to sound practical. Not weird.”
Saki huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Too late.”
She handed him his change.
Instead of leaving, Kyou walked over to the small seating area, poured hot water into his ramen cup, and sat down.
Saki watched him for a second.
Then, instead of telling him to leave, she walked over and sat across from him.
* * *
Saki didn’t know why she sat down.
She could’ve just let him eat and left it at that.
But Kyou being here—again—felt less like an intrusion and more like… habit.
Which was weird.
They ate in silence for a while, Kyou focused on his ramen, Saki sipping on a drink she wasn’t sure she even wanted.
“You do this often?” she asked eventually.
Kyou didn’t look up. “Eat?”
“End up here.”
Kyou shrugged. “Guess so.”
Saki smirked. “Sounds like a routine.”
Kyou took another bite before answering. “More like a detour.”
Saki tilted her head. “From what?”
He stirred the broth absently. “Nothing in particular.”
Saki narrowed her eyes slightly. “That’s specific.”
Kyou set his chopsticks down. “I don’t always feel like going home right away.”
Saki exhaled through her nose. “That makes two of us.”
She hadn’t planned on saying that.
But it was true.
Kyou glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”
Saki tapped her fingers against her cup. “It’s quiet there.”
Kyou nodded slightly, like he understood without needing any more explanation.
They didn’t press further.
Didn’t need to.
Instead, Saki nodded toward his camera, still resting in his bag. “You take pictures at night?”
Kyou wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Sometimes.”
“What do you even look for?”
Kyou thought about that for a second. Then, casually, he said, “Things people don’t notice.”
Saki leaned back in her chair. “Sounds lonely.”
Kyou smirked slightly. “It’s just how it is.”
Saki exhaled, watching him. “Maybe people notice more than you think.”
Kyou blinked.
It wasn’t a big statement. Wasn’t a deep revelation.
But somehow, it lingered.
He picked up his chopsticks again, stirring the last of his ramen. “Maybe.”
They finished eating without saying much after that.
But the conversation wasn’t over.
Not really.
* * *
Chapter 24: A Conversation That Wasn’t Meant to Happen
Saki wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting there.
The store was quiet. A few customers came and went, but none stayed long. The overhead lights hummed softly, and outside, the city night stretched on, indifferent to whatever was happening here.
She should have gone back behind the counter. Should have ended the conversation.
But she didn’t.
Kyou, finishing the last of his ramen, leaned back slightly, letting out a small exhale. “You work here every night?”
Saki shook her head. “Only some. I balance shifts with school.”
Kyou raised an eyebrow. “Psych major, right?”
Saki tilted her head slightly. “You remember that?”
Kyou shrugged. “You mentioned it once.”
Saki blinked.
She hadn’t realized he was paying attention.
Not just to words, but to details.
She glanced at his camera again, its presence almost an extension of him. “What about you? Do you do anything other than photography?”
Kyou smirked slightly. “Eat convenience store ramen.”
Saki huffed a quiet laugh. “I meant for work.”
He exhaled, stretching his fingers absentmindedly. “Freelance stuff. Travel blogs, magazines. I take what I can get.”
Saki studied him. “So you just… go places, take pictures, and move on?”
Kyou didn’t answer right away.
Then, simply: “Yeah.”
Saki stirred her coffee, watching the liquid ripple. “Sounds nice.”
Kyou tilted his head. “You think?”
Saki nodded. “No one expects you to stay.”
Kyou tapped a finger against the table. “And you?”
Saki scoffed. “I don’t go anywhere.”
Kyou’s gaze lingered on her for a second too long.
She didn’t look back.
Instead, she muttered, “It’s easier.”
Kyou leaned back. “For who?”
Saki didn’t answer.
Kyou didn’t push.
The silence stretched—not uncomfortable, not forced. Just there.
* * *
Kyou wasn’t sure why he kept talking.
Normally, he would’ve eaten, stayed for a few minutes, and left.
But Saki wasn’t telling him to leave.
And, for some reason, he wasn’t looking for an excuse to go.
“You really don’t miss it?” he asked suddenly.
Saki glanced at him. “Miss what?”
“The piano.”
She stiffened.
For half a second, Kyou thought she was going to shut down. But instead, she exhaled, tilting her head toward the counter. “That’s a weird question.”
Kyou didn’t look away. “Not really.”
Saki sighed, pressing a hand against her temple. “I don’t know.”
Kyou studied her. “You don’t know?”
Saki frowned slightly, like she was frustrated with herself. “I guess… I don’t let myself think about it.”
That was a better answer than he expected.
Kyou nodded. “Makes sense.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? No follow-up questions?”
Kyou smirked. “You expect me to be nosy?”
She huffed. “Yuuto would’ve asked five more things by now.”
Kyou took a slow sip of his drink. “I’m not him.”
Saki didn’t respond to that.
She just stared at her coffee, fingers idly tracing the rim of the cup.
* * *
Saki didn’t know why she said so much.
She wasn’t even sure if it was a lot.
But something about Kyou made it easy to let things slip—not because he asked, but because he didn’t.
Because he listened.
Saki sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Why do you keep showing up here?”
Kyou didn’t flinch. “Why do you care?”
Saki exhaled through her nose. “I don’t.”
Kyou smirked slightly. “Then why ask?”
Saki narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re annoying.”
Kyou took another sip of his drink. “So are you.”
For some reason, that made her laugh.
Not forced. Not sarcastic. Just… real.
And Kyou, for once, looked satisfied with that.
* * *
Chapter 25: Missing in Action
Yuuto wasn’t the type to get worried easily.
But after a week of radio silence from Kyou, he was starting to feel something.
It wasn’t like Kyou was the most talkative person in their Random Strangers group chat, but he always showed up. At the café. At the store. Somewhere.
Now? Nothing.
Yuuto stared at his phone, then—without hesitation—started typing.
> Yuuto: Hey
> Yuuto: You alive?
> Yuuto: Did you ditch the country or something?
> Yuuto: Blink twice if kidnapped.
> Yuuto: Actually, respond in Morse code.
> Yuuto: KYOUUUUUUUUUUUUU
Saki, who had been ignoring the messages so far, finally replied.
> Saki: You’re embarrassing.
Yuuto grinned.
> Yuuto: And yet, still no response from Kyou. See? Even you’re wondering.
A few minutes passed.
Then, finally—
> Kyou: Sick.
Yuuto blinked.
Then—
> Yuuto: …that’s it?
> Yuuto: Dude, it’s been a WEEK.
> Yuuto: Are you dying??
Another pause.
Then—
> Kyou: Just the flu. Chill.
Yuuto narrowed his eyes at the screen.
Saki’s next response was immediate.
> Saki: Where do you live?
Yuuto stared.
> Yuuto: …whoa, straight to the point.
Kyou, predictably, took his time answering.
Then—
> Kyou: Why.
Saki didn’t hesitate.
> Saki: You live alone.
Yuuto raised an eyebrow.
> Yuuto: Oh damn, she’s right. You need, like, food? Medicine? A priest?
Kyou’s reply came slower.
> Kyou: I’m fine.
Saki wasn’t having it.
> Saki: Address.
Yuuto smirked.
> Yuuto: Yeah, drop it. I’ll come too. If you die, I don’t want to have to explain to the cops why we didn’t check on you.
There was another long pause.
Then—reluctantly—
> Kyou: …fine.
Yuuto grinned, already grabbing his jacket.
* * *
Saki didn’t know why she cared.
But the idea of Kyou being sick, alone, in some apartment with nothing but his camera and whatever weak excuse for groceries he usually bought, annoyed her.
So she went.
She wasn’t expecting Yuuto to also be there.
She arrived first, a plastic bag in hand filled with things he should’ve already had—medicine, porridge, bottled tea, fever patches.
When she knocked, there was no response at first.
Then, after a long pause—
The door creaked open.
Kyou looked awful.
Hair messier than usual. Hooded eyes. Hoodie hanging loosely off his frame.
Saki sighed. “You look like you got hit by a truck.”
Kyou blinked slowly. “Good to see you too.”
She pushed past him, stepping inside. His apartment was… minimal. Few personal things. Just a camera on the table, some books, and an unmade bed.
Saki placed the bag on the counter. “Do you even have food?”
Kyou yawned. “Wasn’t hungry.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s stupid.”
Before he could respond, another knock came at the door.
Saki raised an eyebrow. “Did you order something?”
Kyou sighed. “No.”
Then—
“Yo, open up, sick guy.”
Saki blinked.
Kyou groaned.
Saki smirked. “You actually gave him your address?”
Kyou rubbed his temple. “I thought he’d get bored.”
Saki shook her head as Kyou shuffled to open the door.
Yuuto stepped in, carrying his own bag of groceries.
He looked between Saki and Kyou. “Oh damn, you’re already here?”
Saki crossed her arms. “I’m efficient.”
Yuuto grinned. “I brought snacks.”
Kyou exhaled, defeated. “I don’t need two of you here.”
Yuuto smirked. “Well, too bad.”
Saki just opened the fridge and started organizing things. “Shut up and sit down, Kyou.”
Kyou stared at her.
Yuuto laughed. “Oh wow. Mom voice.”
Saki shot him a glare. “You’re not helping.”
Yuuto shrugged, plopping onto Kyou’s couch like he belonged there. “Yeah, but this is fun.”
Kyou sighed in suffering but didn’t argue.
And somehow, he didn’t kick them out.
* * *
Chapter 26: When the Photographer Sleeps
Kyou was finally asleep.
It had taken a bowl of warm food, some medicine, and way too much effort, but eventually, he’d stopped trying to argue and crashed on the couch, bundled under a blanket like he hadn’t slept properly in days.
Saki sat at the small kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea she found in Kyou’s barely stocked cabinet. Across from her, Yuuto leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly spinning a pen between his fingers.
For the first time since they arrived, the apartment was quiet.
Saki exhaled, setting down her cup. “He really wasn’t taking care of himself.”
Yuuto hummed in agreement. “Yeah. Not surprising, though.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Yuuto shrugged. “He doesn’t seem like the type to ask for help.”
Saki scoffed. “Neither do you.”
Yuuto smirked. “Touché.”
They lapsed into silence for a moment.
Then, Yuuto tapped his fingers against the table. “You know what’s weird?”
Saki didn’t look up. “You?”
Yuuto grinned. “Besides that.” He tilted his head slightly. “We’re here. In Kyou’s apartment.”
Saki blinked.
She hadn’t thought about it like that.
It was true—just weeks ago, they barely acknowledged each other beyond random encounters. now, somehow, they were here, in his space, like it wasn’t a big deal.
Yuuto chuckled softly. “If you told me a month ago that I’d be sitting here, making sure our mutual grumpy photographer didn’t die from flu negligence, I would’ve laughed.”
Saki smirked. “Same.”
Yuuto leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But you showed up first.”
Saki narrowed her eyes. “And?”
Yuuto raised his hands in defense. “Nothing. Just saying.” He paused. “You don’t do things like this for just anyone, do you?”
Saki frowned. “That’s a stupid question.”
Yuuto watched her for a beat, then smiled a little. “Yeah. Guess it is.”
Saki sighed, looking toward the couch where Kyou was still sleeping. “It’s not like I care or anything.”
Yuuto let out a short laugh. “Oh yeah, totally. Just happened to bring groceries and cook him a meal for fun.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “You’re annoying.”
Yuuto grinned. “Deny it all you want, but you’re still here”
Saki didn’t have a comeback for that.
Instead, she just picked up her tea, sipping it slowly.
Yuuto stretched, tilting his head toward Kyou. “Think he’d do the same if either of us got sick?”
Saki didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
Yuuto blinked.
Then he chuckled. “Yeah. Me too.”
Neither of them admitted what that meant.
But they both knew.
They’re starting to have a connection to each other.
* * *
Chapter 27: Left Behind
Kyou woke up to silence.
Not the kind he was used to—the usual quiet of being alone—but a different kind. A kind that lingered in a way that wasn’t entirely his.
He sat up slowly, his head clearer than before, though his body still ached with the remnants of fever.
His eyes flickered toward the table.
Two notes.
One, in neat, no-nonsense handwriting:
“Your fever’s dropped, but keep resting. Heat the meals like this—” (instructions followed in precise bullet points).
Saki.
The other, in messy, slightly chaotic scrawl:
“Had a gig. Will be back later to check on you. Don’t miss me too much.”
Kyou sighed. Yuuto.
He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the notes for a long moment.
They hadn’t just been here. They had stayed.
And that realization sat heavy in his chest.
For a moment, he just sat there, unmoving.
Then, before he could overthink it, he grabbed his phone and opened the Random Strangers chat.
> Kyou: Thanks.
He locked his phone immediately, as if that could erase the action.
The notification barely had time to disappear before—
> Yuuto: DID KYOU JUST SAY THANK YOU??
Kyou groaned, lying back down.
This was a mistake.
* * *
Yuuto stared at his phone, grinning.
Kyou? Saying thank you? In the chat? Voluntarily?
Saki’s reply came in next.
> Saki: You must still be sick.
Yuuto laughed.
He could picture Kyou, staring at his phone, regretting the message immediately.
Still, it meant something.
Yuuto leaned back in his chair at the venue, waiting for soundcheck.
It wasn’t like he and Saki had done anything huge—just showed up, made sure Kyou didn’t starve, kept him alive. But it mattered.
And the fact that Kyou acknowledged it—even in his own grumpy, reluctant way—just proved it.
Yuuto tapped a reply.
> Yuuto: Don’t get too sentimental on us, man.
No response.
Yuuto smirked.
Kyou had probably thrown his phone across the room by now.
* * *
Saki put her phone down after seeing Kyou’s message.
She didn’t know why it made her pause.
It wasn’t like she needed thanks. She hadn’t done anything special. Cooking a meal wasn’t some grand gesture. Checking on someone who clearly wasn’t taking care of himself was just common sense.
And yet.
Kyou had actually said it.
Which meant something.
Saki exhaled, leaning back on her couch.
This was getting weird.
She wasn’t sure when she had started expecting these people in her life.
But, somehow, she had.
And she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that.
* * *
Chapter 28: A Missing Piece
Yuuto knew the conversation was coming the moment Aya put down her saxophone and crossed her arms.
We need keys,” she said bluntly.
Riku, their drummer, nodded as he spun his drumsticks in his fingers. “Yeah, the set would sound fuller with a keyboardist.”
Tetsu, their guitarist, leaned back in his chair. “I mean, I can fill in with chords, but jazz just feels right with keys.”
Yuuto sighed, already knowing where this was going. “Not happening.”
Aya raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t even let me say it yet.”
“You don’t have to,” Yuuto groaned. “You want me to ask Saki.”
Riku blinked. “Who?”
Aya rolled her eyes. “The pianist who filled in that one time.”
“Ohhh,” Riku grinned. “The good one.”
Yuuto shook his head. “She’s not going to do it.”
Tetsu smirked. “She already played with us once.”
“That wasn’t by choice,” Yuuto shot back.
Aya ignored him. “You talk to her the most. Just ask.”
“No.”
Riku tilted his head. “Are you scared?”
Yuuto scoffed. “Of Saki? No.”
Aya smirked. “Then ask her.”
Yuuto groaned, rubbing his temples. This is going to go terribly.
* * *
Saki could already tell Yuuto was up to something the moment he sat across from her at the café.
He had that look. The one that meant he was about to test her patience.
She raised an eyebrow. “No.”
Yuuto frowned. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
Saki sipped her coffee. “You want something. The answer is no.”
Yuuto sighed dramatically. “Just hear me out.”
Saki exhaled through her nose. “Fine. Go ahead.”
Yuuto brightened. “Okay, so my band—”
“No.”
Yuuto groaned. “Saki.”
She leaned back, crossing her arms. “You know my answer.”
Yuuto ran a hand through his hair. “But just think about it—”
“I did. No.”
Yuuto slumped forward. “At least pretend to consider it.”
“I am considering it.” She picked up her coffee again. “And my answer is still no.”
Then—
“You should do it.”
Saki blinked.
That wasn’t Yuuto’s voice.
She turned—and there was Kyou, sitting at the next table, casually drinking his coffee like he hadn’t just said that.
Yuuto looked just as surprised. “Wait—what?”
Kyou didn’t even look up. “You should do it.”
Saki narrowed her eyes. “Since when do you care?”
Kyou exhaled, setting down his cup. “I don’t.”
Saki scoffed. “Then why are you backing him up?”
Kyou finally looked at her, face unreadable. “Because it’s obvious you miss it.”
Saki froze.
Yuuto blinked. “Whoa.”
Kyou just went back to his drink.
Saki clenched her jaw, fingers tightening around her cup.
She could argue. Could deny it.
But Kyou was too damn observant.
And that annoyed her more than anything.
She sighed, pressing a hand against her temple. “You’re both annoying.”
Yuuto smirked. “So you’ll do it?”
Saki groaned. “No.”
But this time, her voice wasn’t as firm.
And that was enough to make Yuuto smirk.
* * *
Chapter 29: A Reluctant Kidnapping
Saki should have known Yuuto wouldn’t let it go.
She had been very clear that she wasn’t interested. She had rejected the idea multiple times. And yet, somehow—somehow—she was now sitting in the passenger seat of Yuuto’s beat-up car, arms crossed, regretting every decision that led her here.
“This is technically a kidnapping,” she muttered.
Yuuto grinned, one hand on the steering wheel. “No, this is transportation with aggressive encouragement.”
Saki glared. “I did not agree to this.”
“You didn’t disagree either.”
She let out a slow exhale. “I hate you.”
Yuuto smirked. “No, you don’t.”
Saki slumped against the window, watching the streets blur past.
How had this even happen?
One moment, she had been at the café, enjoying a quiet afternoon. The next, Yuuto had appeared out of nowhere, thrown an arm around her shoulders, and said—
“Come on, let’s go.”
And when she refused?
“Too bad. I’m giving you a ride anyway.”
Which led to this.
Sitting in his car. Heading straight toward disaster.
Saki rubbed her temples. “What exactly do you think is going to happen?”
Yuuto grinned, completely unbothered. “You’re gonna play with us, realize it’s fun, and then decide to stick around.”
She scoffed. “That is a very optimistic assumption.”
Yuuto shrugged. “I like to dream big.”
Saki closed her eyes, inhaling slowly. “This is the worst day of my life.”
Yuuto tapped the steering wheel. “Just wait ‘til you hear Riku’s drumming. Then it’ll be the second worst.”
Saki sighed. She was so doomed.
* * *
Kyou was already at the practice space when Yuuto arrived, dragging Saki in behind him. He didn’t know why he was here. He wasn’t part of the band. He barely knew any of the members. And yet, here he was, leaning against the wall of a cramped practice space, coffee in hand, watching Yuuto drag a very reluctant Saki to the keyboard.
It had started with a single message earlier that afternoon:
> Yuuto: Saki’s coming to practice. She’s gonna need moral support.
Kyou had stared at the message for a full minute. He almost ignored it. Almost typed back some sarcastic remark. But instead, he’d picked up his jacket and left.
Now, watching Saki’s stiff posture and crossed arms, he realized that Yuuto might have been right.
She looked… tense.
Annoyed, yes, but also like she was bracing for something.
She looked… unimpressed.
Yuuto, on the other hand, looked far too pleased with himself.
Kyou raised an eyebrow. “You actually brought her?”
Saki shot him a glare. “I was kidnapped.”
Yuuto patted her shoulder. “She’s being dramatic.”
Kyou hummed. “That does sound like you.”
Saki groaned. “I hate both of you.”
Aya, standing near her saxophone, smirked. “Oh, I like her already.”
Saki narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”
Aya stretched out her hand. “Aya. Sax. The only reason these guys don’t fall apart.”
Saki reluctantly shook her hand. “Saki. Hostage.”
Yuuto clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s get started.”
Kyou’s gaze flickered between Saki and the keyboard. He didn’t need to be a musician to recognize that she was out of practice, the way her fingers lingered uncertainty over the keys.
He took a slow sip of coffee. This wasn’t his business.
But he was here anyway.
Riku, the drummer, was fiddling with his drumsticks, and Aya was adjusting her saxophone reeds. Tetsu strummed a few experimental chords on his guitar. The entire room felt like a mess of sound and movement.
Kyou crossed his arms, feeling slightly out of place.
He didn’t even know why he cared.
And yet, when Saki shot him a brief, almost desperate glance, he gave her the faintest nod.
It wasn’t much.
But Saki’s shoulders eased—just a fraction—and she turned her attention back to the keys.
Nothing big. Just an acknowledgment.
Saki exhaled through her nose, barely noticeable, and turned back to the keyboard.
Kyou didn’t even know why he cared.
Maybe it was because Saki never looked unsure about anything.
Maybe it was because he understood what it felt like to hesitate before doing something that once came naturally.
Or maybe, he just wasn’t ready to admit that he wanted to see what happened next.
Kyou leaned against the wall, silently observing as the band launched into an improvised jazz progression.
And for some reason, despite questioning his own presence here, Kyou stayed.
* * *
Chapter 30: Playing in Three Perspectives
The moment her fingers hit the keys, Saki knew.
It had been a long time since she’d played with a band—since she’d felt the weight of a melody carried by other musicians.
She hated how easy it was to slip into rhythm.
Yuuto called out a progression, and the band followed. Aya’s sax eased in with a warm, fluid melody, while Tetsu’s guitar filled in the spaces with smooth, effortless chords. Riku’s drumming was steady but free, leaving room for movement.
Saki had played in jazz ensembles before. Big ones. But this was different. Smaller. Looser.
More alive.
She told herself she wasn’t enjoying it.
That she was just filling in, that she had no obligation to keep going after today.
But then Yuuto threw her a grin, eyes bright as if to say see, I told you, and something in Saki clicked—the old familiarity of playing, the rush of improvisation, the way music felt when it wasn’t burdened by expectation.
Her hands moved instinctively.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t think about what came next.
* * *
Yuuto knew Saki would be good.
But this?
This was something else.
She had started stiff, almost reluctant, like she didn’t want to let herself get pulled in. But jazz didn’t let you hesitate for long.
And once she started playing, once she let her fingers settle into the groove, she was electric.
Yuuto watched as her expression shifted—still focused, still composed, but a little less guarded.
Tetsu caught Yuuto’s eye and gave him a damn-she’s-good look.
Aya, nodding in approval, let her sax carry the melody, and Saki responded—not just playing the chords, but adding flourishes, little offbeat accents that made the song come alive.
Yuuto grinned. She’s not just playing. She’s in it now.
And for some reason, that made him really happy.
* * *
Kyou watched through the lens of his camera.
He hadn’t planned on taking pictures.
But something about the way Saki played—the way her fingers danced over the keys, the way her expression softened when she got lost in the music—he had to capture it.
He lifted his camera, adjusted the focus.
Click.
The shot was raw. Unfiltered.
Saki wasn’t posing—she was just existing in the music.
And that was rare.
Kyou didn’t have to be a musician to recognize when something was real.
Yuuto caught his eye, still grinning like an idiot, and Kyou just shook his head.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Saki wasn’t supposed to fit into this.
And yet—
She did.
And somehow, Kyou found himself waiting for the moment she realized it too.
* * *
Chapter 31: The Moment After
The last note hung in the air, fading into the silence of the practice room.
Saki’s fingers hovered over the keys for a second too long before she pulled them back, resting them on her lap.
She didn’t look up immediately.
She didn’t want to see their faces—to see Yuuto’s inevitable I-knew-it smirk or the way the rest of them would be watching her like she was something worth keeping.
She exhaled slowly, willing herself to feel nothing.
Then—
“Well, damn.”
It was Tetsu who spoke first, running a hand through his hair, looking somewhere between impressed and entertained.
Aya nodded, placing her sax on its stand. “You really weren’t gonna tell us you could play like that?”
Saki shrugged. “I already said I wasn’t joining.”
Yuuto snorted. “Sure, but you also just played an entire set with us, so…”
Saki glared at him. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
Yuuto leaned against his bass. “That’s cute. You keep telling yourself that.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “This was a one-time thing.”
Tetsu grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Tell that to the music.”
Riku, who had been quietly observing the whole exchange, stretched his arms above his head. “So… we all agree she’s in the band now?”
Saki opened her mouth to protest, but—
“Yeah.”
It wasn’t Yuuto who said it.
Or Tetsu.
Or Aya.
It was Kyou.
Saki snapped her head toward him, fully prepared to argue, but—he wasn’t even looking at her.
He was checking his camera settings, completely unbothered, as if his opinion was just a simple fact.
Which made it so much worse.
“You don’t even play,” Saki muttered, genuinely irritated now.
Kyou finally glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “And?”
Saki clenched her jaw. “That means you don’t get a say.”
Kyou took a slow sip of his coffee. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m right.”
Yuuto beamed at him like he had just won the lottery. “I knew I liked you.”
Saki wanted to scream.
Instead, she pushed her chair back and stood up. “I have class.”
Yuuto smirked. “And I have an opening in my band.”
Saki ignored him, grabbed her bag, and walked out.
She wasn’t joining.
She wasn’t doing this again.
But as she stepped out into the evening air, heart still beating a little too fast, fingers still tingling from the way they had moved like they belonged on those keys…
She knew she was lying to herself.
* * *
Saki stormed out.
Yuuto watched her go, shaking his head, still grinning. “She’s so in the band.”
Aya smirked. “She’s definitely in denial.”
Riku leaned on his drum kit. “Think she’ll come back?”
Yuuto stretched his arms. “I’d put money on it.”
Then, he turned to Kyou, genuinely amused. “Did not expect you to back me up, man.”
Kyou exhaled, slipping his camera into his bag. “You’re all annoying. Might as well make it official.”
Yuuto laughed.
Then—
Click.
Kyou had taken a picture of him.
Yuuto blinked. “Wait. What?”
Kyou looked at his camera screen, completely unfazed. “Your face was funny.”
Yuuto grinned. “So, what, you document things now?”
Kyou shrugged. “Sometimes.”
Yuuto glanced toward the door, where Saki had left.
And even though she wasn’t here anymore, somehow, Yuuto knew—
This wasn’t the last time they’d see her on those keys.
* * *
Kyou didn’t know why he spoke up.
But when Riku had casually said “she’s in the band”, it just… made sense.
Even if Saki didn’t want to admit it yet.
Even if she walked out.
Kyou glanced at the picture he had just taken—Yuuto mid-laugh, the neon glow of the practice room lights behind him.
Then, he scrolled back—
Another picture.
This time, Saki, her hands on the keys, eyes slightly closed, lost in the music.
Kyou locked his camera.
No point overthinking it.
Some things just happened.
* * *
Chapter 32: A Name from the Past
It was a normal afternoon.
Well, normal for them.
Yuuto was sitting across from her, arms crossed, wearing that smug, persistent look he always had when he was about to say something stupid.
Kyou was at the next table, sipping his coffee, barely engaged but muttering the occasional sarcastic remark whenever Yuuto said something particularly dumb.
Saki sighed. “No.”
Yuuto grinned. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“You’re going to beg me—again—to join your band.”
Yuuto put a hand to his chest in fake offense. “Beg? I don’t beg.”
Kyou muttered, “That’s a lie.”
Yuuto shot him a glare. “Stay out of this.”
Kyou took a slow sip of his drink, looking entirely unbothered. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Saki huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “For once, he’s right.”
Yuuto groaned. “Look, all I’m saying is, you already played with us once. What’s one more gig?”
Saki rolled her eyes. “You dragged me there.”
Yuuto smirked. “And yet, you stayed.”
Saki opened her mouth to argue—but then—
A voice interrupted them.
“Saki?”
And just like that, the café air shifted.
* * *
Kyou wasn’t paying close attention to the conversation.
He’d heard it all before—Yuuto trying to wear Saki down, Saki rejecting him on instinct, and the whole thing looping endlessly.
But the moment that voice said Saki’s name?
The entire energy changed.
Kyou didn’t know who the guy was, but he knew this much—
Saki’s entire body locked up.
Yuuto, who never missed anything, immediately stopped smirking and turned toward the newcomer.
Kyou didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.
Just watched.
And Saki wasn’t moving.
Not at first.
Then, slowly, she turned her head.
And her expression—that blank, too-careful look—told Kyou everything he needed to know.
This person mattered.
Or at least, he used to.
* * *
Yuuto had no idea who this guy was, but he didn’t like him already.
Not because he did anything.
But because of how Saki reacted.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t panic.
But she wasn’t herself.
Her usual sarcasm? Gone.
Her relaxed slouch? Gone.
Her entire body? Too still.
Yuuto glanced at Kyou, who was already watching.
Good. So he wasn’t imagining it.
Then the guy spoke again.
“It is you.”
Saki said nothing.
Yuuto’s jaw tensed. Okay. Who the hell is this?
* * *
She had no plan for this moment.
No script. No way to prepare for the past crashing into the present.
Satou Ryo.
Her senior from high school.
Someone she hadn’t seen since—
Since before.
“It’s been forever,” Satou said, shaking his head slightly. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Saki swallowed, forcing herself to breathe. “Yeah.”
Satou gave a small chuckle. “I figured you’d be in Vienna by now.”
Vienna.
Yuuto sat up straighter. “Vienna?”
Kyou’s fingers tapped lightly against his coffee cup.
Saki forced a tight smile. “I guess life doesn’t always go the way you expect.”
Yuuto raised an eyebrow.
Kyou said nothing.
But they both noticed.
* * *
Satou’s easy smile dimmed slightly.
“Yeah… I heard about what happened,” he said, voice softer now.
Saki’s grip on her cup tightened.
Yuuto immediately asked, “What happened?”
Saki shot him a sharp look.
But Satou wasn’t paying attention to that. He was still looking at Saki—like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure if he should.
And that’s when Kyou figured it out.
Because for the first time since meeting her, he saw something new in Saki’s face.
Not annoyance. Not sarcasm.
But something raw.
Something painful.
* * *
Yuuto didn’t love being left out of the loop.
But he wasn’t stupid.
He could tell this wasn’t some casual high school reunion.
And the way Saki visibly tensed at Satou’s next words?
That sealed it.
“Do you still play?”
Oh.
Oh.
Yuuto didn’t even let the silence settle before he answered for her.
“She does.”
Saki snapped her head toward him. “Yuuto.”
Yuuto grinned like he hadn’t just thrown a grenade into the conversation.
“She just played with my band last night,” he continued, stretching lazily. “She was amazing.”
Satou blinked.
Saki looked like she wanted to kill him.
Then—
“I’m leaving.”
She grabbed her bag and walked out.
* * *
Saki was gone before anyone could stop her.
The café door chimed softly as it shut behind her.
Yuuto let out a slow breath. “Well.”
Kyou took a sip of coffee. “That went well.”
Yuuto shot him a look. “That sarcasm?”
Kyou tilted his head. “Observation.”
Satou sighed, rubbing his neck. “I really didn’t mean to upset her.”
Yuuto leaned forward. “Okay, so, I have to ask—” He motioned between Satou and the door. “What was that?”
Satou hesitated. “You… don’t know?”
Yuuto frowned. “Know what?”
Satou exhaled. “Saki was supposed to go to music school abroad. Full scholarship.”
Yuuto’s expression flickered. “And?”
Satou’s voice dropped. “Her parents passed away in an accident.”
Silence.
Yuuto sat up straighter.
Even Kyou, who rarely reacted, stilled slightly.
Satou’s voice was careful now. “They were on their way to one of her recitals when it happened. She was in the car too.”
Kyou’s grip on his coffee cup tightened.
Yuuto didn’t say anything.
Satou sighed. “She was the only survivor.”
Kyou glanced at the door where Saki had disappeared.
He had known she was avoiding music.
He hadn’t known why.
Yuuto exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “Well… that explains a lot.”
Kyou said nothing.
Just watched.
And somewhere outside, Saki was walking away, carrying a past she had no intention of confronting.
* * *
Chapter 33: Unspoken Concern
Saki was gone.
And now there was just… this.
A weird, heavy silence sat between him, Kyou, and Satou. The café noise buzzed around them, but none of them moved.
Yuuto leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “Well. That was a disaster.”
Satou sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I got that.” Yuuto waved a hand. “But, uh. You did.”
Satou winced. “I figured.”
Yuuto tapped his fingers against the table, his usual easygoing energy dimmer now. His mind was still stuck on Saki walking out, stiff-backed, refusing to look back.
“She always react like that?” Satou asked hesitantly.
Yuuto frowned. “How the hell should I know?”
Satou tilted his head. “Aren’t you guys her friends?”
Yuuto scoffed. “She’d probably punch me for saying that out loud.”
Satou gave him a look. “That wasn’t a no.”
Yuuto didn’t have a response to that.
Instead, he turned toward Kyou, who had been completely silent this whole time.
Still watching the café door.
Still thinking.
Yuuto frowned. “Hey.”
Kyou finally looked at him.
Yuuto crossed his arms. “Aren’t you gonna say something?”
Kyou took a slow sip of coffee. “You already said everything.”
Yuuto rolled his eyes. “That’s not how this works.”
Kyou exhaled, setting his cup down. “She’s not okay.”
Yuuto blinked.
He wasn’t used to Kyou stating things so plainly.
Satou shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I figured that much.”
Kyou’s eyes flickered toward him. “You don’t get to figure things.”
Satou stiffened slightly.
Yuuto raised an eyebrow. “Damn, Kyou.”
Kyou didn’t look away. “You left. We didn’t.”
Satou’s lips parted slightly, but he didn’t argue.
Yuuto sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Alright, alright. No one’s throwing punches today.” He turned to Kyou. “So? What do we do?”
Kyou blinked at him. “What do you mean?”
Yuuto scoffed. “What do you think I mean?” He gestured vaguely toward the door. “She’s pissed. And alone.”
Kyou tilted his head slightly. “She probably wants to be alone.”
Yuuto frowned. “Yeah. And?”
Kyou took a long pause, then exhaled. “It doesn’t mean she should be.”
Yuuto stared at him.
Then—slowly—his expression shifted.
“…You know,” he mused, resting his chin in his palm. “Sometimes, you actually say useful things.”
Kyou rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to be annoying, go after her already.”
Yuuto smirked. “Oh? So you think one of us should?”
Kyou didn’t respond immediately.
Which, honestly, said more than words would have.
Yuuto stretched his arms behind his head. “Guess that means me, huh?”
Kyou took another sip of coffee. “You’re the one who likes talking.”
Yuuto grinned. “Fair point.”
He pushed his chair back, standing up. “Alright, I’m gonna go see where she ran off to.”
Satou blinked. “Just like that?”
Yuuto shrugged. “What, you wanna come too?”
Satou hesitated. “I don’t think she wants to see me right now.”
Yuuto sighed dramatically. “Smart boy.”
Then he turned to Kyou.
And for a moment, the teasing dropped.
“You’re not coming?” Yuuto asked, voice lighter but not unserious.
Kyou looked at his camera, adjusting the lens absentmindedly. “She won’t talk to me right now.”
Yuuto frowned slightly. “And you know that how?”
Kyou’s gaze was unreadable. “Because she knows I see things.”
Yuuto exhaled. “Fair.”
Then, he clapped a hand on Kyou’s shoulder. “Alright, keep my seat warm.”
Kyou rolled his eyes. “Go.”
Yuuto grinned and walked out.
* * *
Kyou watched Yuuto leave.
Satou shifted in his seat, looking like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or disappear.
“You can go,” Kyou muttered.
Satou blinked. “Huh?”
Kyou finally met his gaze. “You’ve done enough for today.”
Satou exhaled. “Right.” He stood up, rubbing his temple. “For what it’s worth… I am sorry.”
Kyou didn’t respond.
Satou lingered a second longer before finally leaving.
And just like that, Kyou was alone.
He sat back, drumming his fingers against his cup.
Saki wasn’t okay.
Not that she ever was, but today was worse.
Yuuto would find her. Maybe he’d annoy her into talking, maybe he’d just sit next to her until she calmed down.
Kyou wouldn’t go.
Not yet.
Because Saki was right about one thing.
Kyou saw things.
And right now, she didn’t want to be seen.
But later?
He had a feeling their paths would cross again.
And this time, he wouldn’t pretend not to notice.
* * *
Chapter 34: The Interruption
Saki wasn’t sure where she was going.
She had just walked. Away from the café, away from Satou’s voice, away from everything that moment dragged back to the surface.
The street was quiet. A late afternoon breeze drifted past, rustling the leaves overhead. She let it pull her forward, step by step, until—
“Man, you walk fast.”
Saki stopped mid-step.
She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
Yuuto.
Of course.
She exhaled, staring straight ahead. “Go away.”
“Rude.” Yuuto caught up beside her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Here I am, all worried and chasing after you, and that’s what I get?”
Saki scoffed. “Nobody asked you to follow me.”
Yuuto grinned. “Yeah, but we both know I do what I want.”
Saki rolled her eyes and started walking again. “That’s unfortunate.”
Yuuto kept up easily, matching her pace. “You gonna tell me where you’re going, or are we just wandering now?”
Saki shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on entertaining guests.”
Yuuto made a thoughtful noise. “Good thing I’m not a guest. More like… an inconvenience.”
Saki sighed. “At least you’re self-aware.”
Yuuto shot her a look. “You know, most people would be touched that their friend came looking for them.”
Saki did turn this time, narrowing her eyes. “Friend?”
Yuuto smirked. “Wow. That word really hurts you, huh?”
Saki groaned and turned forward again. “I can’t deal with you right now.”
“Lucky for you, I require very little effort.”
She ignored him.
Yuuto didn’t press.
For a while, they just walked.
The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it was oddly natural—something Saki was starting to realize happened too often around Yuuto and Kyou.
She should tell him to leave.
But she didn’t.
And of course, Yuuto noticed.
He kicked at a stray pebble on the sidewalk. “So. That guy back there.”
Saki’s fingers curled slightly at her sides. “We’re not talking about this.”
“Yeah, okay.” Yuuto nodded. “Just one question, then I’ll drop it.”
Saki sighed, rubbing her temple. “Fine. What.”
Yuuto tilted his head, watching her carefully.
“Are you okay?”
It was simple.
Too simple.
And somehow, that made it harder to answer.
Saki looked forward. “I’m fine.”
Yuuto hummed, unconvinced.
Saki glared. “That was the question. I answered it.”
Yuuto smirked. “Yeah, see, that’s the problem. You answered it—but you didn’t mean it.”
Saki gritted her teeth. “Drop it, Yuuto.”
He didn’t.
Instead, he exhaled, glancing up at the sky. “Look, I don’t know the whole story. But I know enough to know that wasn’t just some random guy.”
Saki stayed quiet.
Yuuto let the silence linger before adding, more casually, “Vienna, huh?”
Saki flinched.
It was small. Barely noticeable.
But Yuuto caught it.
And for once, he didn’t tease.
He just… waited.
Saki inhaled slowly. “It’s in the past.”
Yuuto nodded. “Right. But you walked out of there like it’s still right now.”
Saki’s jaw clenched.
Yuuto tilted his head, studying her. “Is that why you don’t play anymore?”
Saki stopped walking.
Yuuto did too.
A breeze moved through the street, sending dry leaves scattering across the pavement.
Saki stared at a spot in the distance, jaw tight. “I told you. It’s in the past.”
Yuuto exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay.”
Saki blinked. That was it?
No more pushing?
Yuuto shoved his hands into his pockets. “But… you do play.”
Saki frowned. “Yuuto—”
“No, really.” He grinned. “You do. You played last night. Hell, you were good. You felt it, didn’t you?”
Saki hated how much he could read her.
Yuuto smirked. “You did. I saw it.”
She turned away. “I don’t—”
“And Kyou saw it too,” Yuuto added. “Which, honestly, is kind of a big deal. He notices everything, but he doesn’t say anything. And yet, even he said you belong in the band.”
Saki scowled. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
Yuuto chuckled. “That’s cute. Keep telling yourself that.”
She exhaled, annoyed. “Why do you even care?”
Yuuto blinked, then smirked. “You first.”
Saki froze.
Yuuto leaned in slightly, grinning. “See? I can be annoying too.”
Saki shoved him. “You’ve always been annoying.”
Yuuto laughed, taking a step back. “Ah, there she is.”
Saki shook her head. “This conversation is over.”
Yuuto gave a lazy salute. “Sure, sure. I’ll shut up—for now.”
She rolled her eyes and kept walking.
Yuuto easily fell into step beside her.
Neither of them said anything for a while.
Then—
“You want food?” Yuuto asked.
Saki blinked. “What?”
Yuuto shrugged. “I was gonna grab something before heading home. You coming or what?”
Saki stared at him.
She knew what he was doing.
Knew he was giving her an out—a way to stay, to keep talking without making it a thing.
She sighed. “Fine.”
Yuuto grinned. “Knew you’d say yes.”
Saki shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
But as they walked toward the next street, Saki noticed something.
She didn’t feel like running away anymore.
And maybe she had Yuuto to thank for that.
* * *
Chapter 35: The Quiet Kind of Concern
Saki didn’t expect Kyou to show up.
Then again, Kyou never really announced himself. He just appeared, like a passing shadow that you only noticed once it was already there.
She was behind the counter, tapping lazily against the register, when the door’s familiar chime rang.
She looked up.
And there he was.
Kyou walked in like he always did—calm, deliberate, expression unreadable. He made a slow beeline for the shelves, eyes scanning the onigiri selection like it was the most serious decision of his life.
Saki sighed. “If you’re stalking me, you’re getting sloppy.”
Kyou hummed. “Coincidence.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “You say that every time.”
Kyou picked up his usual—salmon onigiri, cold brew latte.
He set them on the counter and met her gaze.
“Okay?”
Just one word.
No Are you okay? No Do you want to talk?
Just that.
Saki hesitated.
Because somehow, that one word hit deeper than any of Yuuto’s teasing questions earlier.
She shrugged, scanning his items. “I’m fine.”
Kyou didn’t move.
Didn’t say anything.
Just looked at her.
Saki exhaled. “Yuuto found me.”
Kyou nodded, like he already figured.
Another pause.
Then—
“Still running?”
Saki’s fingers faltered slightly on the register.
She wasn’t sure if he meant right now.
Or in general.
She looked away. “Not tonight.”
Kyou handed her the money. “Good.”
She took it, placing it in the register. “That’s all?”
Kyou tilted his head slightly. “You want more?”
Saki rolled her eyes. “Forget it.”
Kyou grabbed his bag and stepped back, but he didn’t leave immediately.
Instead, he hovered by the door for a second, like he was debating something.
Then—
“Group chat’s quiet.”
Saki blinked.
That was his way of saying we noticed you weren’t there.
She sighed, rubbing her temple. “I’ll text later.”
Kyou didn’t respond.
Didn’t push.
He just nodded once.
Then, without another word, he left.
Saki stared at the door for a long moment after it closed.
She didn’t understand them.
Yuuto with his persistence, Kyou with his silences.
She didn’t ask for this.
Didn’t ask for them.
And yet—
She felt it.
No matter how much she denied it, no matter how much she pushed them away—
She felt it.
She wasn’t alone.
Not really.
And somehow, that realization made it just a little bit harder to breathe.
* * *
Chapter 36: What Could Have Been
Saki never let herself think about Vienna.
Not anymore.
Once, it had been everything.
The dream she held onto when she spent hours in the music room after school. The vision that kept her fingers moving across the keys until they were raw. The reason she entered every competition, every recital, every performance that mattered.
Vienna was supposed to be her future.
But that future died on the side of the road three years ago.
She still remembered the sound.
Glass shattering. Metal twisting. The sharp, suffocating smell of gasoline.
And then the silence.
Not real silence, of course. Just the kind that came after the screaming stopped.
She remembered the way her fingers trembled as she reached for her mother’s hand—how it was still warm when she touched it, but by the time the paramedics arrived, it wasn’t anymore.
She remembered how, in the hospital, a doctor she didn’t know sat beside her and said words that didn’t make sense.
Words like “unfortunately” and “we did our best” and “I’m sorry.”
She remembered thinking, over and over, they were coming to see me play.
Her recital.
Her stupid, meaningless recital.
They wouldn’t have been in the car if it weren’t for her.
They wouldn’t have died if it weren’t for her.
She had played the piano that night.
And in the morning, she had buried them.
Vienna never happened.
Instead, she came back to an empty house. Instead, she dropped out of every competition, stopped responding to every invitation, ignored every person who tried to reach her.
Instead, she took a job at the convenience store and became someone else.
Someone who didn’t care about music.
Someone who didn’t care about dreams.
Someone who just needed to exist and nothing more.
Then, Satou appeared.
And the past slammed into her like a weight she wasn’t prepared to carry again.
She could still hear his voice, lighthearted, casual. “I figured you’d be in Vienna by now.”
Like it was that simple.
Like she could have just gone.
She wanted to be angry. At Satou, for reminding her. At herself, for letting it hurt.
But more than anything, she just felt tired.
And yet…
Despite the weight in her chest, despite the past clawing its way to the surface—
She hadn’t been alone today.
Not really.
Because Yuuto had found her.
Because Kyou had noticed.
Because, no matter how much she pretended otherwise, they weren’t letting her disappear.
She didn’t understand them.
Two random strangers who weren’t supposed to mean anything.
Kyou, who never talked much but somehow always understood the things she didn’t say.
Yuuto, who never stopped talking but somehow always knew exactly when to push and when to stop.
She never asked for them.
Never planned for them.
And yet, she saw them almost every day now.
At the café.
At the store.
In a stupid group chat that she still hadn’t left.
What were they, really?
Friends?
Saki almost laughed at the thought.
Would she even call them that?
But then she remembered Kyou showing up at the store tonight, standing there with his stupid onigiri and cold brew, looking at her like she mattered.
She remembered Yuuto walking beside her, not leaving even when she told him to.
Maybe friends wasn’t the right word.
Maybe it didn’t matter what they are.
Because they were here.
And that is so much more than what Saki could ever ask for.
* * *
Chapter 37: Through a Different Lens
The café was quiet.
Not empty, but calm—the kind of quiet that came after the evening rush, when the barista no longer moved at lightning speed and the customers lingered a little longer in their seats.
Saki wasn’t sure why she was here.
Correction—she knew why she was here.
She had checked the group chat earlier.
Yuuto had thrown out another “Café?” text. Kyou, of course, didn’t respond, and neither did she.
But somehow, they both showed up anyway.
Saki sat across from Kyou, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. He was flipping through the photos on his camera, quietly focused like always.
They had been sitting here for twenty minutes.
Neither of them had said much.
That was normal.
But somehow, tonight felt… different.
Saki exhaled, setting her spoon down. “Weird.”
Kyou didn’t look up. “What.”
Saki rested her chin on her hand. “You, existing outside the convenience store.”
Kyou took a slow sip of his coffee. “You, not running.”
Saki smirked. “Didn’t say I’d stay long.”
Kyou hummed, unimpressed. “Always dramatic.”
She scoffed. “Says the guy who takes photos like he’s capturing the meaning of life.”
Kyou didn’t react, just kept flipping through his shots.
Saki watched the faint glow of the camera screen. He always did this—filtered the world through a lens. Saw things differently than other people did.
Her eyes flickered toward the photos he had taken tonight.
And then she froze.
Because there—on the screen—was her.
Saki blinked. “Wait. When did you take that?”
Kyou turned the camera slightly, looking at the image like it wasn’t a big deal. “Earlier.”
Saki leaned in, studying the shot.
It was her at the piano.
Not from the band rehearsal. Not from before.
This was different.
It was from when she thought no one was watching.
The lighting was soft, her face half-lit by the dim glow of the café’s hanging lamps. Her fingers hovered above the keys, just before playing—caught in that exact second of hesitation.
She remembered this moment.
She had been wondering if she should play.
Wondering if she still could.
Kyou had seen that.
He had captured that.
Saki swallowed. “You didn’t ask.”
Kyou shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”
She turned to him. “What if I don’t like it?”
Kyou met her gaze. “Then I delete it.”
Just like that. No argument. No justification.
Just choice.
Saki stared at the screen again.
She should tell him to delete it.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she asked, “Why’d you take it?”
Kyou tapped his fingers against his cup. “Because you looked like you wanted to play.”
Saki let out a quiet laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”
Kyou tilted his head. “Then why didn’t you stop me?”
Saki opened her mouth—then stopped.
Because she didn’t have an answer.
Kyou exhaled, leaning back. “You’re scared.”
Saki frowned. “Of what?”
Kyou’s voice was quiet, even. “Of wanting to play again.”
Saki clenched her jaw. “That’s not true.”
Kyou didn’t argue. He just let her sit in the silence of her own words.
And that, somehow, was worse.
Saki turned her gaze to the camera again. “You take photos like they mean something.”
Kyou blinked, slightly caught off guard. “They do.”
She looked up at him. “Then why do you take them?”
Kyou was silent for a long moment.
Then, quietly, he said, “Because I don’t know how else to say it.”
Saki felt something in her chest tighten.
Because she understood him.
Understood why he didn’t talk much, why his photos carried more weight than his words ever could.
He didn’t say things.
He showed them.
And right now?
He was showing her herself.
Saki exhaled slowly, tapping her fingers against the table. “Maybe…”
Kyou waited.
Saki bit the inside of her cheek. “Maybe I should try.”
Kyou didn’t react, didn’t press.
But his fingers stopped tapping.
Saki exhaled again. “The band. I mean.”
Kyou still didn’t say anything.
Just took another sip of his coffee.
Then, calmly, he said, “Good.”
Saki scoffed. “That’s it? No dramatic reaction?”
Kyou raised an eyebrow. “You want Yuuto’s reaction instead?”
Saki rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not.”
Kyou smirked, setting his coffee down. “Then you get me.”
Saki leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Unfortunately.”
But somehow, it didn’t feel unfortunate at all.
She glanced at the camera one more time.
Then, quietly, she said, “You can keep the photo.”
Kyou nodded. “I know.”
Saki sighed, shaking her head. “Annoying.”
But she didn’t deny him.
And for once she didn’t deny herself, either.
* * *
Chapter 38: A Decision Set in Sound
Saki didn’t know what she was expecting.
Maybe some kind of big, dramatic moment when she walked into the practice space. Maybe Yuuto throwing his arms in the air like he just won the lottery. Maybe Kyou not being there at all.
Instead, when she stepped inside, Yuuto barely even looked up from tuning his bass.
“Oh, cool. You actually showed.”
Saki blinked. That’s it?
Aya, who was setting up her saxophone, smirked. “Took you long enough.”
Tetsu grinned from where he was adjusting his guitar amp. “Welcome to the band, rookie.”
Riku just gave a thumbs-up. “Nice.”
Kyou was leaning against the wall, camera in hand, watching the scene with his usual neutral expression.
Saki crossed her arms. “That’s it? No fanfare?”
Yuuto glanced at her. “You want a parade?”
Saki scowled. “No.”
“Then sit down, grab the keys, and let’s go.”
Saki exhaled, feeling the weight of it. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
She was here now.
So she sat.
And, for the first time as a member of the band, she played.
* * *
At first, she was stiff.
Her fingers knew where to go, but she didn’t trust them yet.
Yuuto was watching. Kyou was always watching.
But nobody said anything.
The music built slowly, layer by layer. Aya’s sax was smooth and confident, filling the space. Tetsu played a bright, playful riff, the kind of effortless improvisation Saki used to love. Riku’s drumming kept everything steady.
And then—
Yuuto’s bass kicked in.
Deep, solid, grounding.
The rhythm pulled everything together.
And suddenly, Saki felt it.
The shift.
That familiar, dangerous, intoxicating feeling of getting lost in the music.
Her fingers relaxed. She started playing, really playing.
And just like that—
She was back.
* * *
Yuuto knew it would happen eventually.
Saki could pretend all she wanted. She could fight it, deny it, roll her eyes and act like this was nothing—
But music was in her.
And now, as she flowed into the rhythm, her fingers moving with a kind of effortless precision that you couldn’t fake—Yuuto felt the corner of his mouth lift.
There it is.
He threw a glance at Kyou.
Kyou met his eyes, tilting his head slightly.
They both saw it.
Saki was not just playing the notes.
She was in it.
Yuuto leaned into his bass, keeping the rhythm tight, making sure she could trust the sound beneath her.
And from the way she started adding flourishes—little accents in the chords, the kind of details that made the song breathe—
Yuuto knew.
She wasn’t thinking anymore.
She was just playing.
And damn, did it sound good.
* * *
Kyou lifted his camera.
He hadn’t planned on taking a picture.
But something about the way Saki looked at the keys, the way her fingers hesitated for only a second before surrendering to the music—
It was something worth capturing.
Click.
The shutter sound barely registered under the music.
Saki didn’t notice.
Which was fine.
Because this wasn’t for her.
Not yet.
* * *
The song faded out, the last lingering notes filling the space.
Saki exhaled, blinking as if she had just surfaced from somewhere else.
No one spoke.
For once, even Yuuto didn’t make a joke.
Aya leaned back against the piano, nodding in approval. “Not bad, rookie.”
Tetsu grinned. “Nah, that was better than not bad.”
Riku clapped his sticks together. “We should play that one at the gig.”
Saki blinked. “The what?”
Aya stretched. “The gig. Friday.”
Saki’s stomach dropped. “Wait—”
Yuuto smirked. “Did I forget to mention that part?”
Saki turned to Kyou. “Did he actually forget, or was this planned?”
Kyou took a sip of his coffee. “Both.”
Saki gaped at all of them. “I literally just joined today.”
Aya shrugged. “Good time to start, then.”
Tetsu grinned. “No pressure.”
Saki wanted to murder them all.
Yuuto just shot her a shit-eating grin. “Welcome to the band, Saki.”
Saki groaned.
What had she just gotten herself into?
* * *
Diary of A Chaotic Dreamer 
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