Saki never thought she’d play again. Not after everything that happened. But life has a way of pulling people back into the things they love—and the people they never expected to need. Between unspoken words, late-night walks, and music that refuses to be forgotten, Saki, Kyou, and Yuuto find themselves at a crossroads. Dreams, love, and the weight of the past collide in a story about the things left unsaid—and the ones that matter most.
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 63: A Question Unspoken
“Existence is meaningless.”
“That’s a bold opener,” Yuuto said, stirring his coffee. “I take it we’re back on this topic.”
Kyou leaned back in his chair. “You started it.”
“I just said that people overcomplicate things,” Yuuto argued. “Not that life has no meaning.”
Kyou sipped his drink. “Same thing.”
Yuuto groaned. “That’s not—”
Before he could finish, the door chimed, and Saki walked in.
She was later than usual, her bag slung over one shoulder, looking slightly tired but still composed.
She approached their table, raising an eyebrow. “Are we debating the meaning of life again?”
Kyou nodded. “Apparently, some people still think it has one.”
Yuuto rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just being dramatic.”
Saki smirked. “That’s rich coming from you.”
Yuuto placed a hand over his chest in fake offense. “I am a deeply misunderstood artist.”
Kyou muttered, “Tragic.”
Saki pulled out a chair and sat down, falling into their rhythm effortlessly.
For a moment, everything felt normal.
Then—
“I registered,” she said.
Kyou blinked. “For what?”
Saki exhaled, staring into her coffee like it held the secrets of the universe.
“The competition.”
Yuuto froze mid-sip.
Kyou just stared.
Saki, to her credit, tried to sound casual.
“Took me long enough, right?” she added, attempting a smirk.
Neither of them bought it.
Yuuto set down his cup. “You’re doing it?”
Saki shrugged, playing with the rim of her mug. “I mean, I figured… why not?”
Kyou’s eyes narrowed slightly.
It wasn’t why not.
It was because she wanted to.
Even if she wouldn’t say it outright.
Saki took a slow breath. “Will you guys be there?”
She asked it casually.
Like it didn’t matter. Like she didn’t care.
But both Yuuto and Kyou immediately knew.
She needed them there.
Yuuto leaned back, crossing his arms. “Are you seriously asking?”
Saki glanced up. “…Yeah?”
Kyou just shook his head. “Idiot.”
Saki frowned. “Excuse me?”
Yuuto grinned. “You really think we’d miss it?”
Saki hesitated.
Then—very quietly—
“…No.”
But she had needed to hear it anyway.
Kyou didn’t say anything, but he pulled out his phone and typed the date into his calendar.
Saki saw.
She didn’t call him out on it.
Instead, she just smiled softly into her coffee.
And for once, she let herself feel relieved.
* * *
Chapter 64: The Things He Notices
Kyou wasn’t the type to dwell on things.
He saw, he observed, he moved on.
At least, that’s how it had always been.
But lately, Saki had been lingering in his mind more than he was comfortable with.
And the worst part?
It wasn’t even intentional.
* * *
He knew she stirred her coffee exactly three times before taking the first sip.
He knew she only pretended to dislike caramel, even though she always stole a sip when Yuuto ordered it.
He knew she always carried a book in her bag, but she rarely finished them in one sitting—she liked to stretch them out, let the words sit with her.
He knew that when she laughed, she covered her mouth like she wasn’t supposed to—like it wasn’t allowed.
He knew that she understood him in a way most people didn’t.
She never forced him to explain himself.
Never demanded more words than he had.
Never got frustrated when he couldn’t say things the way he meant them.
And somehow—she always got it anyway.
* * *
Kyou had never cared about who showed up for him.
But Saki had.
She was there when he was sick, casually dropping off groceries like it was nothing.
She was there when Reiko came back, standing her ground, choosing his side without hesitation.
He wasn’t used to that.
He wasn’t used to being cared for so effortlessly.
And it was messing with him.
Because now?
Now he noticed everything.
The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought.
The way her fingers hovered over the piano before she played, like she was hesitating—like she was making peace with it.
The way she looked at him sometimes, like she saw him too clearly.
And Kyou—
Kyou didn’t know what to do with that.
* * *
Chapter 65: A Seat at the Table
Yuuto didn’t expect the café to be this crowded.
It was usually busy, sure, but tonight? Every table was taken.
He had arrived first—a rare occurrence—and had claimed a table near the window. Saki and Kyou weren’t here yet, so for now, it was just him, his coffee, and a half-written notebook page he wasn’t particularly inspired to finish.
Then—Mika walked in.
She paused at the entrance, scanning the room, her gaze lingering on the full tables.
Yuuto knew the second she spotted him.
Her eyes flickered with recognition—not the wide-eyed nervousness from before, but something quieter.
Yuuto exhaled, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup.
He didn’t have to say anything. She’d probably just leave, find another place, and he could avoid whatever this was.
But then, Mika hesitated.
And before he could stop himself—before he could think too hard about why—Yuuto found himself shifting slightly and nodding toward the empty seat across from him.
It wasn’t an invitation.
Not really.
More like a nonverbal “If you need a seat, fine.”
Mika’s eyes widened slightly.
Then she gave a small nod and approached.
“…Are you sure?” she asked, her voice careful.
Yuuto wasn’t sure.
But the words were already out. “Yeah.”
She sat down.
And now, Yuuto had officially made this weird.
* * *
Mika hadn’t expected this.
She had come to the café expecting nothing.
Just a routine stop, maybe a chance to hear Yuuto’s band play if they were around.
She had already accepted that he didn’t take her seriously. That he probably thought she was just another fan, lingering too much in the background.
But now, here she was.
Sitting at his table.
She kept her hands wrapped around her coffee, unsure what to do with this rare, unexpected moment.
Yuuto cleared his throat, glancing at the crowded café like he needed an excuse. “Busy tonight.”
Mika nodded. “Yeah.”
Silence.
She wasn’t stupid—she knew he hadn’t asked her to sit because he wanted to talk.
But still…
“I liked your set the other night,” she said, watching his reaction carefully.
Yuuto’s fingers drummed against the table once before he shrugged. “Thanks.”
Mika bit her lip. “Do you always write your own basslines?”
That seemed to catch him off guard.
Yuuto blinked, his head tilting slightly. “You noticed?”
Mika hesitated before giving a small, genuine smile. “You play differently than most bassists. There’s always… more movement.”
Yuuto was clearly thrown off.
Mika didn’t blame him.
She had spent weeks being flustered and awkward around him. She knew what he expected—for her to be some starry-eyed fan who didn’t actually listen.
But that wasn’t the case.
She had always been paying attention.
Yuuto looked at her for a long moment.
Then, finally—
“…Yeah. I write them myself.”
Mika’s smile widened.
Yuuto, catching himself, suddenly picked up his drink and took a sip like he needed to distract himself.
And Mika, for the first time, felt like maybe he was seeing her differently now.
* * *
Chapter 66: Unspoken Matchmaking
Saki hadn’t expected to walk into the café and see Mika sitting across from Yuuto.
Yuuto, who had been so adamant about keeping his distance.
Yuuto, who claimed she was just a persistent fan.
Yuuto, who now looked mildly flustered and trying to act like he wasn’t.
Saki grinned. This was going to be fun.
She walked over, slipping into the seat next to Yuuto with an innocent expression. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”
Yuuto glared. “No.”
Mika, surprisingly composed, just smiled slightly. “We were just talking about the band.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what exactly do you think about our dear Yuuto’s playing?”
Mika didn’t even hesitate. “He has a distinct style. A lot of bassists just hold the rhythm, but he’s more fluid. It gives the band more depth.”
Saki tilted her head. That was actually a really good answer.
Yuuto, next to her, cleared his throat, clearly caught off guard.
Saki smirked. Perfect.
She turned back to Mika, resting her chin on her hand. “Where’d you learn so much about music?”
Mika blinked. “Oh, I—my brother’s a musician. I grew up listening to all kinds of bands.”
Saki nodded approvingly. “Interesting.”
Then, before Yuuto could change the subject, Saki leaned forward slightly. “What’s your favorite song they’ve played?”
Mika hesitated only for a second before answering. “The one from last Friday. I think Yuuto called it an improvisation, but it didn’t feel like one. It felt like a conversation between instruments.”
Saki grinned.
Yuuto, on the other hand, was struggling.
Because that was the exact way he had described it once—to Saki, in private.
He looked at Mika differently now.
Saki noticed.
And Saki, being Saki, took full advantage of the moment.
“We should do this more often,” she mused, stirring her coffee. “But I might not be around much.”
Yuuto frowned. “Why?”
Saki sighed dramatically. “Because I’m going to be busy preparing for the competition, obviously.”
Yuuto rolled his eyes. “Right. The thing you just casually dropped on us.”
Saki smirked. “Exactly.” Then, she added way too casually, “But Yuuto’s here. Always.”
Yuuto turned to her with a deadpan look. “Saki.”
Saki blinked innocently. “What?”
Mika, to her credit, hid her amusement well.
Yuuto exhaled sharply and took a sip of his coffee.
Saki just smiled.
Because she had successfully planted a seed.
And now, she would sit back and watch it grow.
* * *
Chapter 67: The Things That Change Without Saying
The convenience store felt strangely distant from Saki now.
For so long, it had been her constant—the late-night shifts, the repetitive beeping of the register, the mindless stacking of shelves. It had been safe, predictable. A place where she didn’t have to think beyond the moment.
Now, her days belonged to the studio, the one Satou let her to use for her preparation to compete.
The space smelled faintly of polished wood and sheet music—quiet, untouched except for the sound of her playing.
Somehow, Kyou was there too.
Not every day, but often enough that it stopped feeling random.
He never announced his presence. Never made a big deal about showing up.
He just… arrived.
He’d sit in the corner, flipping through a book, sometimes with his camera resting in his lap, but he never took a picture. Never said much.
And Saki should have found it weird.
But she didn’t.
Because there was something easy about it.
No pressure. No expectation. Just Kyou, being there.
At first, she had thought it was a coincidence.
But after the fourth or fifth time, she realized—it wasn’t.
And slowly, she started noticing things.
The way his eyes followed her hands on the keys—not in a way that felt invasive, but like he was studying something important.
The way he placed a bottle of water near her when she got too absorbed in playing to think about it.
The way he always left a little slower than necessary, like he was waiting to see if she would say something.
He had always been observant, but this was different.
She wasn’t sure what to call it.
But she knew it was there.
* * *
Kyou didn’t know why he kept coming.
At first, it was just a random decision.
But then it became a habit.
Saki didn’t seem to mind. She barely acknowledged his presence most of the time—just threw him a glance when she arrived, an occasional “You don’t have to stay, you know.”
And he always responded the same way.
“I know.”
But he stayed anyway.
And he started to notice things too.
How she always hesitated before playing, like she needed a second to convince herself.
How she lost herself completely once she started—a different version of Saki, one without walls.
How she never checked the time, but always noticed when he stood up to leave.
Kyou didn’t say anything about it.
He wasn’t even sure what it meant.
But he knew one thing—
He didn’t want to stop coming.
* * *
Yuuto wasn’t sure how this happened.
One second, he was trying to avoid Mika—as usual.
The next, he was carrying an absurd number of paint cans and regretting every life choice that led him here.
“How did I get roped into this?” he muttered.
Mika grinned, far too pleased with herself. “You offered.”
Yuuto scoffed. “I did not.”
Mika hummed. “You said, ‘That looks heavy.’ And then I said, ‘Yeah, it is.’ And then you took them from me.”
Yuuto groaned. “That wasn’t an offer. That was basic human decency.”
Mika raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying you’re decent now?”
Yuuto narrowed his eyes. “You are a menace.”
Mika beamed. “And yet, here you are.”
Yuuto had no comeback for that.
Which annoyed him.
But the weirdest part?
He didn’t actually hate being here.
And that was the real problem.
* * *
Chapter 68: Things Left Unnoticed
Yuuto liked to think he was pretty perceptive.
It wasn’t just him—all three of them were.
That was why their dynamic worked so well, why they had understood each other even when they were just strangers who kept crossing paths.
They noticed things. They just got each other.
But today…
Today, Yuuto was watching something unfold that neither Saki nor Kyou seemed fully aware of.
* * *
It was small things.
The way Kyou’s gaze lingered on Saki a little too long when she was adjusting the keyboard.
The way Saki’s fingers paused for a fraction of a second when Kyou called her name.
The way Kyou instinctively reached for something at the same time as Saki, their hands brushing, and instead of moving away—neither of them did.
Yuuto did not sign up for this.
“Oi,” he muttered under his breath. “Are you two gonna keep doing this, or should we start charging an entrance fee?”
Saki, clearly flustered, turned sharply. “What?”
Kyou blinked. “What?”
Yuuto just sighed. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Because that was the thing.
Neither of them even realized what they were doing.
And that?
That was way more dangerous than either of them just admitting whatever was happening between them.
* * *
Yuuto let out a slow breath, trying to refocus.
And then there was Mika.
Mika, who kept appearing in his life when he wasn’t expecting it.
Mika, who didn’t push, but also didn’t disappear.
Mika, who wasn’t like Mai—not even close.
Yuuto frowned, gripping his bass a little tighter.
The last time a girl was this close to him, it had been a disaster.
Mai had been a lesson in everything he didn’t want. Clingy, jealous, demanding.
And after that?
It had been Saki.
Saki, who was just… Saki.
Someone he never had to second-guess.
Someone who never expected more than he could give.
Someone who fit into his life so seamlessly that he didn’t even realize when she became one of his closest people.
But now?
Now there was Mika.
And Yuuto wasn’t sure what to do about that.
* * *
Kyou didn’t like analyzing his own emotions.
It wasn’t that he didn’t feel things—he just didn’t think dwelling on them was useful.
But now?
Now, he was stuck.
Because this—whatever this was—wasn’t going away.
He had cared about Reiko once.
At least, he thought he did.
But did he ever feel like this?
Like his thoughts kept circling back to the same person, even when he wasn’t with them?
Like his mind memorized the way she spoke, the way she moved, the way her fingers hovered over piano keys before she played?
Like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know what?
Kyou let out a slow breath.
This wasn’t like before.
And that realization bothered him.
Because what did that mean?
Saki had never been in love.
She had liked people before.
She had crushes.
Satou, for example. She had admired him, maybe even daydreamed about him once or twice.
But this?
This didn’t feel like that.
It was ridiculous.
The way she felt butterflies over something as simple as Kyou saying her name.
The way she caught herself paying attention to his voice, his movements, the way he looked at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice.
The way their hands touched over something insignificant and she felt like she had to force herself to breathe properly.
It was so stupid.
She didn’t have time for this.
She was focusing on the competition. That was supposed to be her priority.
So why was this happening?
Saki sighed, pressing her fingers against the piano keys.
She had no idea what to do with this feeling.
And honestly?
That terrified her.
* * *
Chapter 69: Some Things Just Happen
The gig was over, the café was winding down, and Yuuto, for once, wasn’t being swarmed by his bandmates or random patrons.
Instead, he was stuck with these two.
Not that he minded.
He just hadn’t realized how weird it felt now that Saki wasn’t always hanging around after their gigs.
“So, how’s the whole piano genius returns from the dead thing going?” Yuuto asked, stretching his arms over the back of his chair.
Saki gave him a flat look. “That’s not what’s happening.”
Yuuto smirked. “No? That’s not what Satou thinks.”
Saki groaned, rubbing her temple. “Satou thinks a lot of things.”
Yuuto grinned, fully enjoying this. “And how’s practice?”
Saki hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “It’s… fine.”
Yuuto raised an eyebrow. “Fine?”
Saki exhaled. “It’s not like I forgot how to play. It’s just… different now.”
Yuuto tilted his head, studying her. “Different good or different bad?”
Saki didn’t answer right away.
And that? That was interesting.
Before he could press, Kyou spoke up. “She’s getting better.”
Saki turned to Kyou quickly, like she hadn’t expected him to say anything at all.
Yuuto blinked, looking between them. “Wait. How do you know?”
Kyou, without hesitation: “I’ve been at her practice.”
Matter-of-fact. No big deal.
Just stating the truth.
Yuuto narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Every day?”
Kyou sipped his drink. “Yeah.”
Yuuto glanced at Saki, who looked…
What was that? Conflicted? Confused?
Yuuto grinned.
“Oh. Oh, this is good,” he mused, leaning forward. “Saki, did you get yourself a personal photographer-slash-bodyguard?”
Saki crossed her arms. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Kyou, still unbothered, added, “I also walk her home.”
Saki snapped her head toward him.
Yuuto whistled. “Well. That’s new.”
And suddenly, Saki didn’t know where to look.
Because he was right.
It was new.
It had started so naturally—the first time, it had just been late, and Kyou happened to be leaving at the same time. Then it happened again. And again.
At some point, it just became a thing.
And now Kyou was saying it out loud, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And that did something weird to her stomach.
Yuuto, ever the instigator, grinned wider. “So, you’re telling me that I’ve been abandoned?”
Saki rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m alone at gigs,” Yuuto continued, counting on his fingers. “Alone at practice. And now, my best friend is too busy walking my other best friend home.”
Kyou, expression blank: “You have Mika.”
Yuuto almost choked on his drink.
Saki bit back a laugh. Oh, this was fun.
Yuuto glared. “Mika is not—”
Saki, grinning: “Aww. Are you lonely, Yuuto?”
Yuuto pointed at her. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, but you’re always with Mika now,” Saki teased, voice far too sweet.
Kyou, casually adding fuel to the fire: “She seems nice.”
Yuuto groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Great. Now both of you are on this.”
Saki smirked. “We’re just looking out for you.”
Yuuto scowled. “No, you’re just entertained.”
Kyou nodded. “That too.”
Saki chuckled, and just like that, the tension from earlier—the weird, quiet shift between her and Kyou—faded into their usual rhythm.
Banter.
Teasing.
The easy back-and-forth that had always made this friendship feel effortless.
Yuuto rolled his eyes. “You two suck.”
Saki smirked. “And yet, you keep hanging out with us.”
Yuuto groaned. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”
And despite the teasing, despite the chaos—all three of them knew that wasn’t going to change.
* * *
Chapter 70: The Old Saki, The New Saki, and the One Kyou Knows
Kyou wasn’t expecting company today.
He had settled into his usual spot in the corner of the studio, flipping through his camera settings while Saki played.
It was a habit now—he never questioned why he kept coming.
Maybe he just liked the quiet.
Maybe he liked watching her get lost in the music.
Or maybe it was something else entirely—something he wasn’t ready to define yet.
Either way, he didn’t expect Satou to show up.
“Didn’t peg you as the type to sit through a practice session,” Satou said, casually dropping into the chair next to him.
Kyou didn’t bother looking up. “Didn’t peg you as the type to care what I do.”
Satou laughed. “Fair enough.”
For a while, they just watched.
Saki was completely immersed, fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys, body swaying slightly with the rhythm.
“She’s different now,” Satou murmured. “But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”
Kyou frowned slightly but didn’t respond.
Satou leaned back in his chair, watching Saki like he was seeing someone Kyou couldn’t see.
“You only know this version of her,” Satou continued, as if reading Kyou’s thoughts. “The Saki who walks through life like she’s detached from it. But before the accident, she was different.”
Kyou’s fingers tapped absently against his camera. He had always wanted to know.
Who she was before.
Why she was the way she was now.
Why there was always a hesitation in her movements when she played, like she was fighting a part of herself.
“She used to be… unstoppable,” Satou said with a soft chuckle. “Bright, talkative, optimistic to a fault. She had this spark—like she truly believed she could take on the world.”
Kyou kept his expression neutral, but something inside him twisted.
It wasn’t jealousy.
It wasn’t even surprise.
It was the sudden, undeniable realization that he had never known that Saki.
And that he never would.
The Saki he knew—the one he had met at the jazz café, the one who bantered with him at the convenience store, the one who quietly shared things about herself without realizing it—wasn’t that same girl.
Satou was talking about someone else.
And yet…
He wasn’t wrong.
Kyou had noticed something change.
Saki still wasn’t that girl.
But she was becoming something else.
Something in between.
The way she teased Yuuto now, the way she didn’t immediately deflect when people brought up her music, the way she let herself feel things, even when she didn’t realize it—
That was new.
That was different.
Satou sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what made her start playing again. I’d like to think it was me. That I somehow convinced her.” He glanced at Kyou, eyes sharp but knowing. “But I don’t think it was.”
Kyou exhaled, staring at the floor.
He didn’t respond.
Because what was he supposed to say?
That he had no idea why he kept showing up at her practice?
That he had no idea when watching her had turned into something more?
That maybe—just maybe—he was part of whatever this change in her was?
He didn’t say anything.
Because he didn’t need to.
Satou chuckled. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
Kyou finally looked at him, expression unreadable. “You talk too much.”
Satou grinned, but there was something almost knowing behind it. “And you don’t talk enough.”
They both fell silent again.
Saki was still playing, oblivious to their conversation, still lost in her own world.
Kyou watched her.
Not through his camera.
Not through the lens of someone analyzing a good photograph.
Just… watching her.
And suddenly, the realization hit him.
He had spent so much time trying to understand her, trying to figure out what made her different, why she affected him in a way no one else did.
And in that moment, he understood.
He didn’t care about the “old” Saki.
Not because she didn’t matter.
But because the Saki he had met, the Saki who existed now, was the one who changed him.
And she was the Saki he loved.
* * *
Saki didn’t hear the conversation between Kyou and Satou.
She didn’t know what they were thinking, didn’t notice the way Kyou’s gaze had shifted.
All she knew was that for the first time in a long time—
She was playing music and not thinking about the past.
She wasn’t playing to prove anything.
She wasn’t playing to escape.
She was just… playing.
* * *
Chapter 71: The Walk Home
The street lights flickered as they walked.
It wasn’t late, but the night was quiet—just the occasional sound of distant traffic, the soft hum of the city settling in for the evening.
Saki walked beside Kyou, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, her steps steady but unhurried.
Kyou didn’t know why he was here.
Or rather—he did know.
He just didn’t know what to do about it.
She needed to focus.
The competition was coming up.
She didn’t need distractions.
And yet…
Here he was.
Kyou glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
She wasn’t shivering, but she was tense—shoulders slightly hunched, breath visible in the cold air.
Her coat wasn’t enough.
Kyou sighed softly under his breath, almost to himself.
Then, without thinking too hard about it, he unwrapped his scarf and draped it around her shoulders.
No words.
No hesitation.
Just a quiet, automatic gesture.
* * *
The warmth hit Saki before she could process what had happened.
Saki blinked, looking down at the thick fabric now loosely wrapped around her.
Kyou’s scarf.
His scent still lingered in it—subtle, clean, something familiar.
She turned to him, lips parted slightly, caught between confusion and something she couldn’t quite name.
But Kyou didn’t say anything.
Didn’t explain.
Didn’t even look at her.
He just kept walking.
Like it was nothing.
Like it hadn’t just made her heartbeat stumble.
* * *
He knew she was looking at him.
He could feel it.
But he didn’t say anything.
Didn’t react.
Because he didn’t know how to explain it.
They walked in silence for a long time.
And maybe that was okay.
Maybe neither of them needed to say anything just yet.
But as they reached her apartment building, Saki hesitated before stepping inside.
She turned to Kyou, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag, the scarf still loosely bundled around her neck.
“You don’t have to keep walking me home, you know.”
Kyou met her gaze, expression unreadable.
“I know.”
* * *
She didn’t return the scarf.
Didn’t take it off.
Didn’t ask him why.
Because somehow…
She’s afraid if the answer is not what she’s hoping for
* * *
Kyou knew what she was saying.
She wasn’t telling him to stop.
She was asking why.
And the truth was—
He didn’t know how to answer that.
So he didn’t.
Instead, he simply gave a small nod, turning away before he could let himself hesitate.
But as he walked off into the night, he knew one thing—
This wasn’t going away.
Not for him.
And maybe…
Not for her, either.
* * *
Chapter 72: What Even Is This?
Yuuto wasn’t sure how he ended up sitting with Mika.
One moment, he was ordering coffee, scrolling mindlessly on his phone, the next—she was just there.
Sitting across from him.
Looking at him with that slightly amused, slightly unreadable expression she always had.
Like she was waiting for him to say something.
So, naturally—he complained
“I swear, it’s like I’ve been abandoned,” Yuuto groaned, dramatically slumping against the café table.
Mika raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of her tea. “By?”
“Saki and Kyou,” he muttered. “It’s like they’re off in their own world lately.”
Mika hummed. “You sound jealous.”
Yuuto scoffed. “I’m not jealous.”
Mika smirked. “You’re pouting.”
“I don’t pout.”
She took another sip. “You do.”
Yuuto huffed, grabbing his coffee. “I just think it’s weird, okay? Like, we always hung out. Now it’s—”
“Different?”
He paused. Was it different?
Not exactly.
It wasn’t like they were excluding him. Saki was just busy. Kyou was just… there.
Always there.
Mika tilted her head. “If you miss her that much, why don’t you go to her practice? Like Kyou does?”
Yuuto blinked. “Huh.”
Now that was a thought.
Why didn’t he?
Yuuto wasn’t the type to hesitate.
If he wanted to do something, he did it.
So why hadn’t he just shown up at practice?
The answer came almost immediately—because Kyou was already there.
And Kyou being there was enough.
It wasn’t that Yuuto didn’t care.
He cared more than he’d ever admit.
But he also knew Saki.
Knew that, right now, she didn’t need someone pushing her or talking too much about the competition.
She needed Kyou’s quiet presence.
That kind of unspoken support—the kind Yuuto wasn’t wired for.
* * *
He exhaled, shaking his head. “Nah. I’ll let them have their moment.”
Mika raised an eyebrow. “Their moment?”
Yuuto shrugged. “Kyou’s better at the whole silent encouragement thing. I’d just talk too much and probably annoy Saki into quitting.”
Mika chuckled. “So, you do know your strengths.”
Yuuto grinned. “Of course. I’m excellent at being annoying.”
Mika smirked but didn’t disagree.
* * *
After a moment, she rested her chin on her hand, eyes thoughtful. “You three really are something, huh?”
Yuuto frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Mika said, stirring her tea absently, “it’s obvious. Your bond. The way you, Saki, and Kyou just… fit.”
Yuuto snorted. “Fit? You think that’s what we do?”
Mika nodded. “Yeah. You fit. Not in an obvious way, but in the way that matters.”
Yuuto paused. He’d never really thought about it like that.
To him, their dynamic was just… normal.
Or at least, it had become normal.
Saki, Kyou, and him.
Bantering, bickering, existing together like it had always been that way.
Mika tilted her head. “How long have you been friends, anyway?”
Yuuto laughed.
“Almost a year,” he said, shaking his head. “Crazy, right?”
Mika’s eyebrows rose. “That’s it?”
“Feels longer, huh?” Yuuto leaned back. “Sometimes I forget that I just kinda stumbled into them.”
Mika nodded, eyes still thoughtful. “Yeah… but isn’t that how the best things happen?”
Yuuto blinked at her, not expecting that answer.
For a second, he thought about it.
About how he had met Saki because of a stupid convenience store argument.
About how Kyou kept showing up at the café like some broody ghost before they even knew his name.
About how somehow, without anyone deciding it, they just started expecting to see each other.
And now… they just did.
Like gravity. Like something inevitable.
Like something that mattered.
And now, Mika was here too.
Yuuto glanced at her, realizing—he was getting used to her presence.
She was just there.
And maybe… that wasn’t so bad.
* * *
Chapter 73: A Night at the Café
Practice ended early.
That didn’t happen often, but she wasn’t complaining.
As she and Kyou stepped out of the studio, the cold air hitting them, she found herself saying, almost absentmindedly—
“I kind of miss Yuuto’s annoying presence.”
Kyou glanced at her.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Same.”
Saki blinked at him. That was unexpected.
Kyou? Agreeing with her?
She smirked. “Wow. That almost sounded like an emotion.”
Kyou scoffed. “I regret saying anything.”
Saki laughed, shaking her head. “It’s just… weird when it’s too quiet.”
Kyou didn’t respond, but he didn’t disagree either.
Maybe that’s how they ended up at the café.
And maybe that’s why, as soon as she stepped inside and spotted Yuuto and Mika at their usual table, she immediately felt like things clicked back into place.
Yuuto looked up, and the second he saw them, his face lit up.
“Well, well, look who decided to crawl back into society.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “You act like I’ve been gone for years.”
“You might as well have been,” Yuuto groaned dramatically. “Do you know how peaceful my life has been without you two? I hated it.”
Saki snorted. “You’re so needy.”
She slipped into the seat across from him, Kyou settling beside her.
Yuuto turned to Kyou next. “And you—where do you even go when you’re not here?”
Kyou flipped through the menu, completely unbothered. “Away from you.”
Yuuto clutched his chest. “Ouch. And here I was, actually missing you both.”
Kyou’s lip twitched, but he didn’t respond.
Saki noticed that.
* * *
Yuuto wasn’t going to say it out loud.
But things had felt weird without them.
Sure, he had Mika. And yeah, she was good company.
But it wasn’t the same.
Saki’s sarcasm. Kyou’s deadpan one-liners. Their chaotic yet strangely perfect rhythm.
Without them, it was like something was missing.
And now, with them back at the table, bantering, teasing, just existing here like they always did—
Yeah. This was how it was supposed to be.
* * *
At some point, Mika turned to Saki.
“Hey,” she said, tilting her head. “Since we’re all here… why don’t you play something for us?”
Saki blinked. “What?”
Mika smiled. “A song. Play something.”
Yuuto grinned. “Ooh, yes. I like this idea.”
Saki hesitated.
“I mean,” she said slowly, “I don’t usually play classical stuff here.”
Yuuto shrugged. “So?”
She looked down at her coffee, fingers wrapping around the cup.
Yuuto noticed that hesitation.
And for the first time, she didn’t brush it off with sarcasm.
Instead, she thought about it.
And then—
“I guess…” she exhaled, glancing at Kyou. “Yeah. Okay.”
Kyou didn’t react.
But when she stood up, he watched her.
And Saki felt it.
* * *
Her feet carried her to the piano.
She hadn’t played like this in a while.
Not since that night she first met Yuuto and Kyou.
That night she played something of her own, thinking no one was listening.
But they were.
And they still were.
She sat down, let her fingers hover over the keys.
Then, without thinking too hard about it, she began to play.
Chopin.
Her favorite.
And for the first time in a long time, she wanted to play.
Not for competition. Not for expectation.
Just because she could.
* * *
The café was quiet, save for the sound of Saki’s fingers gliding over the piano keys.
Kyou watched.
And for the first time, he let himself really see.
Every little thing about her.
The way her shoulders relaxed the moment she played, as if the weight of the world had lifted just a little.
The way her fingers moved—not mechanical, not forced, but like she was meant to do this.
The way she let herself feel—no walls, no hesitation, just music.
He loved her.
The realization hit him like a slow-moving wave, something inevitable, something he should’ve understood long ago.
It wasn’t just that he cared.
It wasn’t just that he wanted to be around her.
It was the way she pulled him in, even when she wasn’t trying to.
She was sharp, sarcastic, brutally honest—but always the one who cared.
She didn’t make a big deal out of it.
She didn’t make it obvious.
But it was in everything she did.
Kyou’s fingers curled around his coffee cup, his chest tightening slightly.
He had cared for Reiko, once.
But not like this.
Not like Saki.
And that difference?
It made everything clear.
* * *
Saki had changed.
Or maybe, she was going back to who she used to be.
The dreamer. The girl who once had a whole future ahead of her before it all fell apart.
And now—
She was finding her way back.
Yuuto leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching her play with a small, knowing smirk.
Yeah.
He had something to do with that, didn’t he?
Him and Kyou.
The thought made him feel a little smug, but more than that—he was just glad.
Saki deserved this.
To love music.
To love her life again.
She had people now. She had them.
Yuuto’s gaze flickered toward Kyou—
And he caught him staring.
Not just watching. Staring.
And oh man.
Kyou loves her.
Yuuto almost laughed out loud.
He sighed instead, shaking his head slightly.
He just hoped they figured it out.
Because whatever this was—whatever they were heading toward—
They deserved to be happy.
* * *
She had always known Kyou cared about her.
He had never been cold with her—not really.
But it had always been quiet. Subtle. Care that existed in actions, in his presence.
And now—
Now she was watching him look at someone else.
Watching him look at Saki.
And for the first time, she understood.
He never looked at her like that.
Not like the world revolved around her.
Not like she was the one grounding him.
Not like she was the center of everything.
But Saki?
Saki was.
And in that moment, Reiko realized—she had never even stood a chance.
* * *
Chapter 74: The Sound of Applause
The moment her fingers left the keys, the café erupted into applause.
It wasn’t just polite clapping—it was genuine. Enthusiastic. Loud.
Saki blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sheer warmth of it.
She wasn’t used to this.
Not in a place like this. Not outside of competitions, recitals, structured performances where applause felt more like a requirement than a reaction.
This?
This was real.
She exhaled, shaking off the strange weight in her chest, turning back toward their table.
Yuuto grinned at her, clapping obnoxiously loud. “Damn, Saki. You’ve been holding out on us.”
Mika nodded eagerly. “That was amazing! I didn’t know classical could sound that… alive.”
Saki tilted her head, smirking slightly. “What, you thought it was just boring old music?”
Mika held up her hands in mock defense. “I didn’t say that!”
“You implied it.”
Yuuto snorted. “Careful, Mika. She’s a classical purist.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “I literally play jazz with you.”
Yuuto waved a hand dismissively. “Details.”
Saki glanced at Kyou. He wasn’t clapping.
Of course he wasn’t.
But he was watching her.
His attention never left her, and somehow, that felt louder than any applause.
She wasn’t sure what to do with that.
So she did what she always did—ignored it.
* * *
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, still buzzing from Saki’s performance.
“I gotta admit,” he said, shaking his head, “I don’t usually listen to classical stuff, but that was pretty damn good.”
Mika nodded. “I don’t even know much about composers, but Chopin is the one who writes all the beautiful, sad piano music, right?”
Saki smirked. “Beautiful and sad? That’s all of them.”
Kyou, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke.
“Chopin’s nocturnes.”
Saki blinked at him. “What?”
Kyou’s gaze flickered to her. “You like his nocturnes the most.”
Saki opened her mouth, then shut it.
Yuuto grinned.
“Ohhh,” he teased, turning to Kyou. “So you’ve been paying attention.”
Kyou shrugged. “You just have to listen.”
Saki looked away, sipping her coffee. “I didn’t know you knew anything about Chopin.”
Kyou’s lip twitched. “You play him enough.”
Yuuto laughed. “Alright, if we’re doing composer talk, I have to ask—where do we stand on Beethoven?”
Mika hummed. “I only know the famous ones.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “Like?”
“Moonlight Sonata,” Mika offered. “And… the angry one?”
Yuuto snorted. “Fifth Symphony?”
Mika nodded. “Yeah, that!”
Saki rolled her eyes. “Beethoven is fine, but if you want dramatic music, you need to listen to Rachmaninoff.”
Yuuto perked up. “Oh yeah? How dramatic are we talking?”
Saki smirked. “The kind of dramatic that makes you want to stare out of a window while it rains.”
Mika laughed. “That sounds like something Kyou would listen to.”
Kyou sipped his coffee. “It is.”
Yuuto chuckled. “Figures.”
Saki grinned. “If you want drama in jazz, though, you need Miles Davis.”
Yuuto immediately sat up. “Finally, something I can contribute to.”
Mika leaned forward, intrigued. “Miles Davis?”
Yuuto nodded. “Legendary. But if you want something a little more groovy, Brubeck is the way to go.”
Saki tilted her head. “Ah, so you’re a ‘Take Five’ guy?”
Yuuto gasped dramatically. “Excuse me, Brubeck is more than just ‘Take Five.’”
Saki smirked. “You sound personally offended.”
“I am,” Yuuto said flatly.
Mika chuckled. “You guys really could argue about music all day, huh?”
“Welcome to our lives,” Kyou muttered.
* * *
The night was fun. Comfortable. Effortless.
But then—
A shadow loomed over the table.
Saki glanced up, and her stomach immediately twisted.
Reiko.
She was standing there, hands loosely clasped in front of her, gaze directed at one person.
“Kyou.”
The laughter faded.
The lightness dimmed.
Yuuto subtly tensed.
Mika glanced between them, sensing the shift.
Saki just watched.
Kyou didn’t react. Not at first.
Then—slowly—he exhaled, setting his cup down.
Reiko’s voice was quiet. Measured.
“Can we talk?”
Saki wasn’t sure why, but something about those words bothered her.
Kyou hesitated.
It was subtle, but Saki noticed.
She noticed everything about him now.
And right now?
She hated that he looked like he couldn’t say no.
* * *
Chapter 75: Words Left Unsaid
The night air felt heavier than it should have.
Kyou stood still, hands in his pockets, watching as Reiko took a deep breath before speaking.
“I’m sorry,” she started, voice steady but laced with something softer. “I know I keep showing up when I probably shouldn’t.”
Kyou didn’t react. Just listened.
She gave a small, tired chuckle. “That’s the thing with you, isn’t it? You don’t say much. And I used to think that was the problem. That if you’d just told me how you felt, things would’ve been different.”
Kyou exhaled, gaze dropping slightly. “Maybe.”
Reiko blinked, caught off guard that he actually responded.
He lifted his eyes back to hers. “But even if I did… we still wouldn’t have worked.”
The honesty in his tone made something settle in her.
She nodded. “Yeah. I know that now.”
There was a pause, a quiet kind of understanding passing between them.
Reiko sighed. “For a long time, I thought I just didn’t try hard enough. That if I had been more patient, if I had read between the lines better, I wouldn’t have lost you.”
Kyou tilted his head slightly. “You didn’t lose me.”
Reiko frowned. “What?”
“You walked away,” Kyou said simply. “I let you go.”
She stared at him, searching his face for something—regret, resentment, anything.
But there was none.
Kyou wasn’t bitter.
He wasn’t angry.
He had let go of that a long time ago.
Reiko swallowed. “I lingered because I wasn’t ready to accept that we just… weren’t right for each other. But tonight, watching you… I finally get it.”
Kyou didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to.
Reiko took a slow breath. “I won’t bother you again.”
Kyou nodded slightly. “Alright.”
She smiled—small, wistful. “That’s it? No sarcastic remark?”
Kyou’s lip twitched faintly. “I thought about it.”
Reiko let out a short laugh.
Then she turned to leave, but before she did, she glanced at him one last time.
“Oh, and Kyou?”
He met her gaze.
Her eyes were knowing. “Go for her.”
Kyou’s fingers twitched.
“Saki gets you,” Reiko continued. “I can see that. Maybe even better than you think.”
Kyou’s jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing.
Reiko smiled softly. “Even if she understands you without words… sometimes, words are still needed.”
Kyou exhaled, eyes unreadable.
And with that, she walked away.
* * *
Saki hadn’t spoken in the last five minutes.
She was watching Kyou and Reiko through the window, expression too neutral.
Too carefully neutral.
Yuuto and Mika exchanged a glance.
Mika raised an eyebrow, but Yuuto gave her a small shake of his head. Let me handle this.
He turned back to Saki, casually leaning forward.
“So,” he said, voice light, “you good?”
Saki didn’t look away from the window. “Yeah.”
Too quick. Too practiced.
Yuuto hummed. “You sure?”
Saki finally turned to look at him. “Obviously.”
Yuuto smirked. “Uh-huh.”
Mika watched, curious, but didn’t say anything.
Saki went back to drinking her coffee.
Yuuto didn’t push.
But he knew better.
And when Kyou finally stepped back inside, his expression unreadable, Saki didn’t look at him right away.
Yuuto just sighed.
These two are going to drive me insane.
* * *
Chapter 76: Unspoken Things
It wasn’t planned.
It never was.
But somehow, he always ended up walking her home.
Tonight was no different.
Saki didn’t comment on it. Didn’t ask why.
And Kyou didn’t explain.
They just walked.
The streets were quieter than usual, the air cool but not freezing. The scarf he had given her days ago was still loosely wrapped around her neck.
That should’ve made him feel something.
But he didn’t know what.
For the first few minutes, neither of them spoke.
Then, without thinking too hard about it, Kyou said, “Reiko’s leaving.”
Saki didn’t react right away.
She took a slow step forward, her hands still in her pockets. “Is that so?”
Kyou exhaled. “She said she finally gets it.”
Saki raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Gets what?”
“That we wouldn’t have worked,” Kyou said simply.
Saki hummed. “Took her long enough.”
Kyou smirked slightly. “You sound invested.”
Saki shrugged. “Not really. Just seems obvious.”
Kyou tilted his head. “Was it?”
Saki gave him a look. “Kyou, you two were like oil and water. Everyone but you seemed to know it.”
Kyou didn’t answer immediately.
Because maybe she was right.
Maybe he had known all along that Reiko had never truly understood him.
But Saki?
Saki understood.
She always did.
Which was why he was telling her this now—not because he had to.
But because he wanted to.
“Before she left,” Kyou said slowly, “she told me something.”
Saki stayed quiet, waiting.
“She told me to go for you.”
That made her pause.
Saki turned her head, blinking at him, her expression unreadable. “Oh?”
Kyou nodded. “She said you understand me.”
Saki snorted. “Well, obviously. Someone has to.”
Kyou chuckled, shaking his head.
But then—he noticed it.
Something in her tone.
A flicker of something in her expression.
He couldn’t place it, but it wasn’t nothing.
And that—that made him wonder.
Did she feel the same?
Could he at least hope that she did?
They walked the last few minutes in silence, and when they reached her apartment, Saki finally turned to him.
“So,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “are you going to?”
Kyou raised an eyebrow. “Going to what?”
Saki smirked. “Go for me.”
The question was light, teasing—but there was something behind it.
Kyou held her gaze, considering his answer.
Then, after a beat, he leaned forward just slightly, just enough that Saki’s breath caught for half a second.
“Maybe.”
And with that, he turned, walking away.
Leaving her standing there.
Watching him go.
And for the first time, Saki had no idea what to do with that.
* * *
Chapter 77: Unfinished Thoughts
Saki had planned to shake it off.
To not think about it.
To let it be just another passing conversation.
But—
“Maybe.”
The way he had said it. The way it wasn’t quite a joke.
The way it lingered.
She pressed her fingers against her temple as she sat in her apartment, staring at the untouched cup of tea on the table.
She should have laughed it off. Teased him. Done something other than stand there, watching him walk away like an idiot.
But she hadn’t.
Because for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she had imagined the shift between them.
Had it always been there?
No. That wasn’t true.
It hadn’t always been there.
She knew exactly when it started.
Little things.
The way Kyou called her name—not often, but when he did, it felt different.
The way his presence never felt intrusive, never felt demanding—but always there.
The way he knew her habits without ever asking, how he always seemed to notice things she didn’t even realize about herself.
And now?
Now, she was wondering if she had been missing something all along.
She exhaled, leaning back against the couch.
Maybe she was overthinking.
Maybe Kyou was just being Kyou.
Maybe she had imagined the hesitation in his voice. The weight in his words.
Maybe.
And yet—
She wasn’t ready to forget the way it made her feel.
* * *
Kyou’s steps were steady, even, unhurried.
His mind?
Anything but calm.
The way Saki had looked at him when he said “Maybe.”
She hadn’t laughed. She hadn’t rolled her eyes.
She had paused.
And Kyou wasn’t sure if that meant everything or nothing at all.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he turned onto the quieter streets leading home.
For the longest time, he had been able to read Saki.
But tonight?
Tonight, he wasn’t sure if he had imagined the flicker of something in her eyes—or if she had truly been waiting for an answer.
And if she had…
What was he supposed to do about that?
Reiko’s words played in his mind.
“She understands you. But sometimes, words are needed.”
He had never been good at saying what he felt.
He had always relied on the fact that people would just know.
But with Saki…
Did she know?
Or had she been waiting for him to say it?
Kyou sighed, shaking his head.
He didn’t have the answer.
Not yet.
But for the first time he wanted to figure it out.
* * *
Chapter 78: The Theme Park Escape
Saki had been too tense.
Kyou had been too quiet.
And the whole pre-recital, existential crisis vibe was ruining the group’s usual rhythm.
So, obviously, Yuuto had to do something about it.
Thus—theme park.
“I hate this,” Kyou muttered as they walked through the entrance gates.
“No, you don’t,” Yuuto grinned, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
Kyou sighed but didn’t push him off.
Saki, standing beside them, looked around with mild amusement. “I can’t believe you actually dragged us here.”
Yuuto scoffed. “Dragged? You guys love spending time with me.”
Saki gave him a flat look.
Kyou deadpanned, “That’s a lie.”
Yuuto chose to ignore them.
Beside them, Mika clapped her hands together. “This is fun! It’s like a double date.”
Yuuto immediately choked.
“Excuse me?” he coughed.
Mika tilted her head. “Well, isn’t it? You and me, them—” she nodded toward Kyou and Saki, who—oh wow, were actually walking in sync.
Yuuto frowned. “Who invited you again?”
Mika smiled sweetly. “Oh, you wanted me here.”
Yuuto opened his mouth—then closed it.
Okay, fine.
* * *
Somehow, they kept falling into step with each other.
Whenever Yuuto and Mika got distracted arguing (which was… often), Saki and Kyou found themselves left to their own devices.
Which wasn’t a problem.
Not really.
Except—
“You don’t like rollercoasters?” Saki asked as they stood in line for one.
Kyou frowned slightly. “Didn’t say that.”
Saki smirked. “So you love them?”
Kyou gave her a look. “Didn’t say that either.”
Saki huffed a quiet laugh. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to.”
Kyou watched her for a moment.
She looked… relaxed.
More so than she had in days.
Before he could think too much about it, he said, “You needed this.”
Saki blinked. “What?”
Kyou shrugged, eyes flickering toward the flashing neon lights ahead. “You’ve been stressed.”
Saki stared at him for a second. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at her lips.
“Yeah,” she admitted. “I guess I have.”
She glanced ahead, then—to his mild surprise—bumped her shoulder against his.
“Thanks for coming along,” she said casually.
Kyou stared at her.
She hadn’t needed to thank him.
Because, without realizing it, he would’ve been here anyway.
* * *
Mika watched the exchange from a distance.
“Admit it,” she nudged Yuuto. “They’re cute.”
Yuuto sighed dramatically. “Why does everyone in my life fall in love in the most painfully slow way possible?”
Mika laughed. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Yuuto raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Mika smirked. “I mean, if I didn’t force myself into your life, you’d still be ignoring me.”
Yuuto opened his mouth—then shut it.
Again.
Mika grinned. “Exactly.”
Yuuto groaned. “Why am I surrounded by people who enjoy making me suffer?”
Mika looped her arm through his. “Because we love you, obviously.”
Yuuto choked again.
Mika just laughed.
* * *
By the time they reached the Ferris wheel, the group had settled into their natural dynamic—which meant Yuuto and Mika were still bantering, and Saki and Kyou had ended up in the same carriage without realizing it.
The doors shut before they could protest.
Kyou exhaled. “Trapped.”
Saki smirked. “Oh no. However will we survive?”
The wheel began to rise.
For a moment, there was only silence.
City lights stretched beneath them, a sea of color blending into the night sky.
Saki tilted her head slightly. “It’s nice.”
Kyou nodded. “Yeah.”
Saki turned to look at him. “You don’t say much, huh?”
Kyou gave her a dry look. “Just figuring that out?”
She laughed softly.
Then—before she could overthink it—she rested her head against his shoulder.
Kyou froze.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t say anything.
Just—let it happen.
Saki sighed, her voice quieter now.
“Let’s stay like this for a bit.”
Kyou didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
He just let her stay.
And when the wheel reached its peak, neither of them said a word.
Because some things didn’t need to be spoken aloud.
* * *
Chapter 79: Between the Lines
The Ferris wheel creaked softly as their carriage swayed with the wind.
Saki had her head resting lightly against Kyou’s shoulder, her breath steady, her presence quiet but certain.
Kyou barely moved.
His fingers twitched slightly against his knee, an odd hesitance creeping into his usually still posture.
And then—before he could talk himself out of it—he reached for her hand.
Slow. Careful.
Just enough for his fingertips to brush against hers before he let them settle in a loose, steady hold.
He didn’t squeeze. Didn’t make it obvious.
Just there.
A quiet reassurance. A presence. A simple, unspoken truth.
Saki didn’t pull away.
She didn’t stiffen.
She didn’t say anything at all for a long moment.
The city stretched out below them, blurred lights twinkling in the distance, their own reflection faintly visible against the Ferris wheel window.
And then—without looking at him—Saki finally spoke.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it carried something heavier.
Something that settled deep.
Kyou’s grip on her hand tightened—just slightly.
Saki exhaled, shifting her fingers against his.
“I understand that you care.”
A beat of silence.
A breath.
Then—quieter, but certain:
“And if there’s ever a time you decide to come to me… I’ll always be here.”
Kyou closed his eyes for a brief second.
Her words hung in the air between them, lingering long after the moment had passed.
She wasn’t asking.
She wasn’t pushing.
She was just… letting him know.
Kyou swallowed, staring at their intertwined fingers.
His grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly—a silent acknowledgment of her words.
The Ferris wheel began its descent, but the connection between them remained, solidified in that shared, unspoken promise.
As they neared the ground, their hands loosened.
They let go before stepping out.
But both of them knew—something had changed.
And neither of them were quite the same as they had been before.
* * *
The Ferris wheel lifted their carriage higher, the lights of the park stretching beneath them in a swirl of color.
Mika was shifting excitedly in her seat, eyes wide, taking everything in.
“Look at the view! It’s amazing from up here,” she said, pressing against the glass.
Yuuto leaned back with a smirk. “You do realize this thing moves, right? Stop bouncing, or we’ll be the first people to get stuck up here because you tipped the cart.”
Mika shot him an unimpressed look. “Dramatic much?”
“Practical,” Yuuto corrected.
Mika rolled her eyes but settled down, though the excitement still radiated off her in waves. She was always like this—lively, expressive, always taking in the world with wide eyes.
And Yuuto… had never really noticed it like this before.
She was different from Saki, different from Kyou.
With Saki, their banter was sharp, sarcastic—a battle of wits where neither backed down.
With Kyou, it was dry humor, short and cutting but never mean.
But with Mika…
It was playful. It was effortless.
And it wasn’t annoying.
…Which, honestly, was concerning.
Yuuto dragged a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I never thought I’d meet the female version of myself.”
Mika grinned. “Aren’t you lucky?”
Yuuto opened his mouth—to say something, anything—but that’s when he saw it.
Saw her.
The way the lights reflected in her eyes, the way she was completely immersed in the moment, fully there, fully alive.
Like a sun.
Bright. Effortless. Warm.
Yuuto turned away quickly, frowning at nothing. What the hell was that?
Mika must’ve noticed his shift, because she suddenly nudged him. “You okay? You’re looking weird.”
Yuuto scoffed. “I always look like this.”
Mika snorted. “Fair point.”
Yuuto glanced toward the other carriage—the one carrying Saki and Kyou.
They were still inside, their silhouettes visible against the cityscape.
They weren’t talking.
They weren’t moving.
But even from a distance, Yuuto could tell something was happening.
He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Alright, let’s leave those two alone.”
Mika smirked. “Weren’t you the one who wanted them together?”
Yuuto groaned. “Yeah, well, I don’t need to witness it happening in real time.”
Mika laughed. “Fine, fine. So, what do you want to talk about now?”
She turned to face him fully, arms folded against the safety bar.
And then, with a teasing but undeniably loaded tone—
“Us?”
Yuuto blinked.
His stomach did something weird.
Mika smiled—but there was something behind it, something that wasn’t just teasing.
Yuuto swallowed, suddenly unable to fire back with his usual sarcasm.
And for the first time, sitting across from Mika in that slowly descending carriage, he realized he didn’t actually know the answer.
* * *
Chapter 80: The Art of Useless Debates
The late afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, streaking the horizon with a soft, golden hue. The four of them had claimed a spot on the grass, near the park’s lake, where the sounds of passing conversations, distant laughter, and rustling trees created a kind of casual, unhurried soundtrack to their day.
Saki stretched her legs out, arms supporting her weight as she leaned back, a rare ease settling over her. Kyou sat next to her, sipping from a bottled coffee he’d picked up earlier. Yuuto and Mika were sprawled across the grass, already locked in yet another ridiculous debate.
“Okay, but seriously,” Yuuto said, waving a hand in the air, “psychology is just philosophy that decided to pretend it’s a science.”
Mika gasped. “Excuse me?”
Saki lifted an eyebrow. “I’m literally getting a psychology degree. Do I need to start diagnosing you?”
Kyou, without looking up, muttered, “Too late for that.”
Yuuto shot him a glare before turning back to Mika. “I’m just saying—most of it is theories. Freud? Adler? They just sat around guessing things and called it research.”
Mika huffed. “First of all, that’s offensive to actual research. Second of all, are you telling me you don’t believe in, like, the five stages of grief? Attachment theories? Cognitive dissonance?”
Yuuto shrugged. “I mean, sure. But that’s just common sense given fancy names.”
Saki shook her head. “Yuuto, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Is it?” Yuuto smirked. “Or am I just challenging the very foundation of your studies?”
“You’re challenging my patience,” Saki deadpanned.
Kyou finally spoke, eyes still lazily fixed on the lake. “Overthinking doesn’t make you deep.”
Yuuto gasped dramatically. “You wound me.”
Saki smirked. “He’s not wrong, though.”
Mika clapped her hands together. “Okay, new debate topic—overrated and underrated song lyrics.”
Yuuto immediately sat up, his eyes too eager. “Oh, this is my territory.”
Saki groaned. “Why did you just awaken his TED Talk mode?”
Kyou sighed. “This was a mistake.”
But Mika looked unbothered. “Okay, Yuuto, go ahead. Most overrated lyrics?”
Yuuto didn’t even hesitate. “Imagine”
Saki gasped. “Excuse me?”
Yuuto lifted his hands. “I’m just saying! Yes, world peace, utopia, whatever—but it’s so vague. It’s literally just, ‘Imagine everything bad didn’t exist.’ Like, sure. Thanks for the groundbreaking thought.”
Mika snorted. “I hate that I kind of agree.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Then what’s underrated?”
Yuuto leaned back smugly. “Weather Report’s A Remark You Made.”
Mika frowned. “That song has no lyrics.”
Yuuto nodded. “Exactly.”
Saki smacked his arm. “That doesn’t count, idiot.”
Kyou, who had been quiet this whole time, finally said, “Both Sides Now, Joni Mitchell.”
All three turned to him.
Mika tilted her head. “Huh. Yeah. That one’s actually good.”
Yuuto nodded begrudgingly. “Okay, I’ll allow it.”
Kyou looked unimpressed. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”
Yuuto grinned. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”
Saki crossed her arms. “I can’t believe I hang out with you people.”
Mika laughed, nudging her playfully. “You love us.”
Saki huffed. “Debatable.”
Yuuto smirked. “We should add that to the list of debates.”
Saki rolled her eyes.
* * *
Somehow, the conversation spiraled into another topic—movies.
“The thing is,” Mika argued, “existentialist movies are always so pretentious.”
Yuuto gasped. “Excuse me? So you’re telling me Before Sunrise is bad?”
Mika shrugged. “No, but it’s basically two people talking in a city for two hours.”
“That’s the whole point!”
“Why not just watch an actual documentary about human connection?”
Kyou muttered, “Because he’d rather cry over La La Land.”
Yuuto pointed at him. “And what a worthy cause it is.”
Saki smirked. “So what, Mika? You prefer chick flicks?”
Mika nodded without shame. “Absolutely. What’s wrong with romance?”
Yuuto scoffed. “Romance movies are just fake expectations wrapped in happy endings.”
Mika rolled her eyes. “Wow. Someone got burned before.”
Yuuto groaned. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Kyou, as always, looked amused. “Because it’s true.”
Mika grinned. “It is.”
Saki leaned back, shaking her head. “You guys are impossible.”
* * *
The conversation continued, spiraling into books, music, and unnecessary arguments about things that didn’t really matter.
But for Saki—this mattered.
This moment.
This day.
The fact that she was here, laughing, debating, teasing, being teased.
The fact that her chest felt light.
The fact that she wasn’t just surviving.
She was living.
And as she looked at the three people beside her—the friends she never expected but had somehow become her constants—she realized something.
She was ready.
For the competition.
For music.
For whatever came next.
Because for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t alone.
* * *
Chapter 81: The Competition Day
Saki stood backstage, her fingers curled around the edge of her sleeves. She wasn’t nervous—not exactly. But there was something about standing there, waiting for her turn, that made her feel strangely unmoored.
She had spent so long running from this. From music. From the weight of expectations.
And now, here she was, about to step onto a stage again—not because she had to, but because she wanted to.
A quiet presence appeared beside her.
She didn’t have to look to know it was Kyou.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t make a grand speech about how she would do great or how she had nothing to worry about. He simply stood there, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze fixed forward as if he, too, was waiting for something.
The silence stretched between them, comfortable in a way only they could understand.
Then, Kyou spoke—soft, simple, matter-of-fact.
“You’re ready.”
Saki turned to him, caught off guard by the certainty in his voice.
He wasn’t asking.
He wasn’t reassuring.
He was stating a fact.
Like there was never any doubt.
Something in her chest unraveled.
She let out a slow breath, the last bit of tension melting from her shoulders.
Yeah.
She was ready.
She had been for a while now.
* * *
Yuuto leaned forward in his seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the stage.
Kyou sat beside him, posture relaxed, but his focus was sharp, unwavering.
As Saki sat at the piano, the lights casting a glow on her figure, there was a brief pause—a small moment before her fingers touched the keys.
Then—music.
The first note rang out, then another, cascading into a melody that was both delicate and powerful, filled with a depth of emotion that neither Yuuto nor Kyou had ever heard from her before.
Yuuto exhaled slowly.
She was different now.
The girl who had been closed off, guarded, hesitant—she was gone.
This Saki?
She was fearless.
Kyou, meanwhile, barely moved.
He had seen her play before. He had heard her music.
But this was different.
She wasn’t just playing.
She was feeling.
And as he watched her, Kyou felt something settle deep within him—something he had been dancing around for weeks now.
He loved her.
He already knew that.
But this moment?
This was the moment that confirmed it.
It wasn’t just admiration.
It wasn’t just respect.
It was her.
Saki—the girl who had unknowingly woven herself into his life, into his routines, into his very existence.
He didn’t just love her.
He loved who she was, who she had become, and who she would continue to be.
And there was no going back from that.
* * *
The last note hung in the air, lingering like a final whisper before fading into silence.
Then—applause.
It was deafening, a wave of cheers and claps filling the competition hall.
Saki blinked, as if suddenly remembering where she was.
She stood, gave a polite bow, and made her way off the stage.
And just like that, it was over.
She did it.
She played.
And she wasn’t broken.
She wasn’t drowning in grief.
She was here.
Alive.
Saki weaved through the small crowd backstage and entered the audience seating area.
Mika spotted her first and immediately wrapped her in a quick hug.
“You were amazing,” Mika whispered, grinning. “Like, I knew you were good, but damn, Saki.”
Saki chuckled, the warmth of the hug grounding her.
The bandmates gave her nods of approval—Tetsu with his usual confident smirk, Riku throwing a thumbs-up, and Aya offering her a rare, satisfied nod.
Then, Saki turned to her seat.
Yuuto and Kyou were waiting.
She sat between them, exhaling softly.
Yuuto, in his usual Yuuto way, leaned in slightly, his voice casual but laced with something deeper.
“Well done.”
Saki smirked. “That almost sounded genuine.”
Yuuto rolled his eyes. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
And then—Kyou.
He didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to.
Instead, his hand reached for hers, fingers curling around hers gently, a slow, steady squeeze.
Saki stilled, her breath catching for just a second.
The warmth of his touch wasn’t overwhelming.
It wasn’t grand.
But it was there.
Solid. Steady. Unspoken.
A silent way of telling her—
“You were wonderful.”
Saki didn’t let go.
And neither did he.
* * *
Chapter 82: A New Crossroad
Saki didn’t expect to feel this light.
The nerves, the pressure, the weight of everything she had carried into this competition—it all faded the moment they announced the results.
Second place.
She had won second place.
It wasn’t about winning.
It wasn’t about proving anything.
It was about her.
About playing again. About stepping onto that stage and knowing she belonged there.
Yuuto cheered the loudest, of course. “That’s my girl! Second place, and you barely even practiced for this. Imagine if you actually tried.”
Saki rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile.
Mika clapped beside him, beaming. “Saki, that was amazing! I knew you’d do well, but this—this is insane!”
The bandmates weren’t far behind—Riku whistling in approval, Aya giving her a proud nod, and Tetsu, ever the dramatic one, clutching his chest. “What will we do if you get recruited by some big-shot orchestra now? I refuse to play in a band without our keyboardist!”
Saki laughed, shaking her head. “You’re all overreacting.”
She felt warm.
Not just from their cheers, but from being here, with them.
Her friends. Her people.
She had never imagined this moment before. Not like this.
And then—
“Saki.”
She turned at the familiar voice.
Satou.
He smiled, hands in his pockets. “I always knew you could do it.”
Saki swallowed, suddenly feeling all the years between them.
She had looked up to him once. Admired him. Maybe even had a crush on him.
But standing here now… it felt different.
The past wasn’t calling to her anymore.
She smiled, softer this time. “Thanks, Senpai.”
Satou chuckled. “You don’t have to call me that anymore.”
But before Saki could respond, another voice entered the conversation—one she wasn’t expecting.
“Excuse me.”
A man—late forties, sharp suit, observant eyes—stepped forward.
Saki straightened instinctively, something in her gut telling her this wasn’t just another congratulation.
“I’m from the Vienna Conservatory,” he introduced himself smoothly, handing her a card. “Your performance was exceptional, Miss Tachibana. You have a unique sound—one that deserves to be nurtured.”
Vienna.
Saki’s breath caught in her throat.
“We have a full scholarship available for promising musicians like you,” the man continued. “You should apply.”
Her fingers trembled slightly as she took the card.
Vienna.
The word echoed in her mind.
The dream she had abandoned.
The future that was supposed to be hers.
The path that had been erased the moment her parents never made it to her recital.
Yuuto whistled. “Damn, Saki. That’s—wow.”
Mika’s eyes widened. “This is huge. Are you going to do it?”
The bandmates immediately started panicking.
“No way. You just joined us!” Riku groaned.
“Vienna’s overrated. Right?” Tetsu added desperately.
Aya, ever the realist, folded her arms. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
Saki barely heard them.
Because suddenly—she felt lost.
A few years ago, she would have said yes in an instant.
She would have taken this offer without a second thought.
But now…
She had a life here.
A routine.
Friends.
A band.
Kyou.
She turned her head instinctively, eyes scanning the crowd.
Looking for him.
And when she found him—
Kyou wasn’t looking at her.
He was looking at the name card in her hand.
His expression didn’t change.
No surprise. No disappointment. No smile.
Just a slow sigh.
Then—his eyes met hers.
And for a moment—just a brief, fleeting second—she saw it.
The same hesitation.
The same quiet understanding.
The same question neither of them could put into words yet.
What now?
Saki gripped the card tighter.
She had no answer.
Not yet.
But she knew one thing for sure.
She and Kyou were going to have to talk.
* * *
Chapter 83: The Walk Home
The streets quieter than usual now that the café’s lights had dimmed behind them. The celebration had gone longer than expected—Yuuto had insisted on keeping the party going, Mika had fueled the chaos, and the bandmates had taken full advantage of the free-flowing drinks.
Saki hadn’t minded.
It was loud. Warm. Full of life.
But now, with only the sound of their footsteps echoing in the cool night, she realized how much she had been waiting for this.
Kyou walked beside her, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
For once, she wasn’t sure how to break the silence.
She shifted, adjusting the strap of her bag. “You didn’t say anything back there.”
Kyou exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cold air. “Didn’t have a chance.”
Saki glanced at him. “You don’t talk much even when you do.”
Kyou’s mouth twitched slightly—almost a smirk.
A beat of quiet passed between them. Not tense, not awkward. Just… there.
Saki let out a breath, tilting her head back slightly, looking at the night sky. “It’s crazy, right? The offer.”
Kyou’s voice was even. “Is it?”
She hesitated. “I mean… it’s Vienna.”
A second of silence.
Then—
“Do you want to go?”
The question hit her harder than she expected.
Saki tightened her grip on her bag. “I don’t know.”
Kyou nodded, like he had expected that answer. He didn’t press. Didn’t ask anything else.
But for some reason, that made her want to explain.
She sighed, staring at the pavement as they walked. “It used to be my dream. Everything I worked for was leading to that. And now…”
Now she had this.
This life she had slowly started rebuilding.
Music had stopped feeling like an obligation. She had friends who cared.
And then—there was him.
Saki swallowed, kicking a stray pebble on the sidewalk. “I just don’t know anymore.”
Kyou didn’t react right away. Like he was choosing his words carefully.
Then, quietly—
“You don’t have to know right now.”
Saki turned her head slightly, watching him.
His expression was neutral, but she knew him well enough now to catch the way his fingers curled slightly in his pockets. The way his shoulders weren’t as relaxed as usual.
“You’re not going to tell me to go?” she asked.
Kyou’s gaze flickered toward her, his voice steady. “Would you listen if I did?”
She huffed a quiet laugh. “Probably not.”
His lips barely twitched in response.
They kept walking, the distance between them close but not quite touching.
Saki pulled his scarf tighter around her neck.
“Kyou.”
He didn’t turn his head, but she could tell he was listening.
“If I leave…” she hesitated. “Would you—”
Her throat closed up.
She couldn’t ask that.
Not yet.
She shook her head, exhaling. “Never mind.”
Kyou didn’t push.
Didn’t ask what she was going to say.
But before they reached her apartment, before she could turn away, he did say something.
Something that settled into her bones, staying there long after she had closed her door.
“I think… whatever you choose,” he said quietly, “you won’t regret it.”
And when she looked at him, really looked at him—
She saw it.
The words he wasn’t saying.
* * *
Chapter 84: Kyou’s Inner Struggle
Kyou sat on the floor of his apartment, camera in hand, but he hadn’t taken a single picture.
The city outside his window was restless—lights flickering, cars passing, distant voices carrying through the streets. Life moved forward, whether he was ready or not.
Vienna.
He exhaled sharply, leaning his head back against the wall.
It had been a long time since something had unsettled him like this.
Not because he didn’t want the best for Saki.
But because, for the first time in a long time, he had something he didn’t want to lose.
He had spent years perfectly comfortable with distance, with keeping people at arm’s length. Even with Reiko, even with old friendships—he had never fought to keep anyone close.
But this?
Saki?
That was different.
He closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair.
Of course, she should go.
Vienna was her dream. Was—he wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe she wasn’t sure either. But if she still wanted it, he couldn’t stand in her way.
Saki was meant for something bigger. She was gifted. He had seen it in every note she played, in the way her hands moved over the piano like it was an extension of herself.
And yet—
Why now?
Why now, when she had just started to find herself again? When she was opening up, playing not because she had to, but because she wanted to?
Why now, when for the first time in years, they weren’t alone anymore?
Kyou opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling.
He knew he couldn’t be selfish.
But what about his own dreams?
The thought crept in before he could push it away.
What was his dream?
He had always thought it was simple. Traveling, capturing the world through his lens, finding quiet beauty in the unnoticed.
But now…
Now, he found himself wondering.
What if it wasn’t just about places anymore?
What if it was about who he wanted beside him?
His fingers hovered over his camera, but he didn’t pick it up.
Because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what to capture.
* * *
Chapter 85: A Simple Truth
The café was unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon. The usual clatter of cups, soft chatter, and distant hum of jazz music played overhead, but Kyou and Yuuto sat in silence.
Kyou was staring at his untouched coffee. Yuuto was staring at Kyou.
It had been a few days since the competition. Since Vienna became a real possibility. Since everything shifted—even if no one had said it out loud.
Yuuto sighed and leaned back, arms crossed. “You gonna keep brooding, or are we actually gonna talk about it?”
Kyou didn’t look up. “Talk about what?”
Yuuto gave him a deadpan look. “Saki.”
Kyou’s fingers tapped absently against the cup. “She hasn’t decided yet.”
Yuuto raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I asked.”
Silence.
Yuuto exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Okay, let me put it this way—are you okay?”
Kyou blinked, finally glancing at him. “What?”
“Are you okay?” Yuuto repeated, tilting his head. “You know, with all this. The Vienna thing. The possibility of her leaving.”
Kyou held his gaze for a long moment before looking back at his coffee. “It’s her dream.”
Yuuto sighed. “That’s not an answer.”
Kyou exhaled, rubbing his temple. “It doesn’t matter what I feel.”
Yuuto leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Yeah, it does.”
Kyou didn’t respond.
Yuuto stared at him, unblinking, then said—casually, almost too casually—“You love her.”
Kyou didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Just that. No dramatic pause. No overcomplicated explanations. Just a simple, honest truth.
Yuuto wasn’t sure why, but hearing it out loud still made something settle in his chest.
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Man. You’re really done for, huh?”
Kyou took a sip of his coffee. “Probably.”
Yuuto watched him for a moment, then leaned forward again, tone quieter now.
“So what do you want, Kyou?”
Kyou’s fingers stilled around his coffee cup.
Yuuto didn’t let up. “And what can you do about it?”
Kyou exhaled, looking away.
Because the truth was—he didn’t know.
Yuuto let the silence sit between them before sighing and leaning back.
“Well,” he muttered, “guess you better figure it out.”
Kyou didn’t respond.
Because that was exactly the problem.
He had never wanted something like this before.
And he had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
Chapter 86: A Realization in Two Parts
Practice ended later than usual.
The band was packing up, and Saki was wiping down the keyboard when Riku plopped down on the chair next to her, stretching his arms over his head.
“Man,” he groaned. “Can’t believe we won’t have you around much longer.”
Saki blinked. “Huh?”
Riku gave her a knowing smirk. “C’mon. You think we don’t know?” He nudged her with his elbow. “Vienna.”
Saki hesitated. She hadn’t even made a decision yet, but apparently, everyone was already assuming she’d leave.
She sighed. “I haven’t said yes.”
Riku raised an eyebrow. “But you haven’t said no either.”
Saki bit the inside of her cheek.
That was the problem.
She didn’t know what to say.
Riku watched her for a moment before shaking his head. “Well, whatever happens, don’t forget us when you’re some big-shot pianist touring the world.”
Saki let out a small laugh, but it felt hollow.
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Nah,” Riku said, grinning. “You’re insane on the keys, Saki. We all know it.” Then his smirk turned into something more thoughtful. “And, y’know… we’ll all miss you. Aya, Tetsu, even Yuuto—though he’d rather die than admit it.”
Saki chuckled at that.
“But…” Riku tilted his head, shooting her a sideways glance. “Guess Kyou will be a complete wreck, huh?”
Saki’s fingers froze against the keyboard.
Riku didn’t seem to notice, just shrugged and continued casually. “I mean, he’s always around. It’s like you two have your own little world or something.”
Saki forced herself to breathe.
Her and Kyou.
Her and Kyou.
She never stopped to think about it. About how natural it had become. About how much she had come to rely on him—his presence, his silences, his quiet attentiveness.
Would Kyou be a wreck if she left?
Would she be?
Saki stared at her reflection in the polished surface of the keyboard, her thoughts spinning in directions she wasn’t ready to face.
* * *
Kyou didn’t go to practice that night.
Instead, he found himself at the convenience store.
It was stupid.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as he wandered the aisles, not really looking at anything. He grabbed a canned coffee just to have something in his hands.
Saki wasn’t here.
She was at practice, with Yuuto, with the band, with the life she had built here.
And Kyou… wasn’t.
For the past year, it had been normal—Saki at the counter, him stopping by, their banter, their silences.
This wasn’t normal.
He had come here out of habit.
Or maybe something deeper than that.
The thought unsettled him.
Kyou left the store without buying anything, his fingers curling into his jacket pocket.
If Saki left for Vienna, this is what it would feel like.
Just an empty space where she used to be.
And he realized—
He didn’t want that.
He didn’t want a world where she wasn’t here.
Didn’t want to wake up knowing she was oceans away.
Didn’t want to be left behind again.
Kyou inhaled sharply, turning on his heel.
He wasn’t someone who acted on impulse.
But this—this wasn’t impulse.
This was certainty.
And certainty meant he had no time to waste.
He needed to see her.
Now.
So he walked.
Fast.
Before he could hesitate.
Before he could second-guess himself.
Because for the first time, Kyou knew exactly what he wanted.
* * *
Chapter 87: A Different Kind of Certainty
Saki nearly dropped her keys when she saw him.
Kyou was leaning against the wall beside her apartment door, hands stuffed into his pockets, his head tilted slightly downward. His usual unreadable expression, but his presence—his presence said everything.
She blinked, surprised. “Kyou? How long have you been standing there?”
He looked up at her, nonchalant as ever. “A while.”
Saki sighed, unlocking her door. “You should’ve texted me.”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
She rolled her eyes but held the door open. “Come in, before you start freezing to death out there.”
Kyou stepped inside, eyes casually scanning her space. He’d been here before, but never like this. Never because he was waiting for her.
Saki tossed her bag on the couch, stretching her arms. “You weren’t at practice today.”
Kyou stayed quiet.
She tilted her head at him. “I missed you.”
It was a simple sentence, said so easily, so casually. But it made Kyou’s breath hitch.
She didn’t say things like that often.
Saki plopped onto the couch, motioning for him to sit. “It’s weird,” she mused, “because we literally see each other almost every day. But you not being there today…” She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “It felt weird.”
Kyou sat down beside her. “I went to the convenience store.”
Saki blinked. “Okay? And?”
His fingers tapped idly against his knee. “It was weird not having you there.”
Something about the way he said it made Saki stop.
Kyou wasn’t one for meaningless words. If he said something, he meant it.
And right now, what he meant was—
He noticed her absence, too.
Saki’s lips pressed together, then, quietly, she admitted, “I hate not seeing you for a long time.” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “I mean, it was just a day. But something felt… missing.”
Kyou turned to her then, really looking at her. His gaze was steady, firm, like he was holding onto something bigger than just this moment.
“What’s your dream, Saki?” he asked.
She blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“Vienna,” Kyou said. “Is it still your dream?”
Saki stared at him. She had spent so long avoiding that question, even to herself. She had pushed it down, buried it under the weight of everything that had happened.
But Kyou…
Kyou never let her run from things.
Her voice was small. “I don’t know anymore.”
Kyou leaned back slightly, exhaling. “I have a dream too.”
She glanced at him, surprised.
“To travel the world,” Kyou continued. “Capture the beautiful places, the people, their emotions. See the things I’ve never seen before.” He turned to her. “And you know what?”
Saki swallowed. “What?”
“That dream…” He tilted his head slightly. “It can start in Vienna too.”
Saki’s breath caught.
He wasn’t saying it lightly.
Kyou never said things lightly.
He was saying he’d go with her.
That he would change his plans, his life—because of her.
She swallowed hard. “You would… do that? Even though it hasn’t even been a year since we met?”
Kyou exhaled through his nose, like he had expected her to say that.
“Time doesn’t matter,” he said simply. “Since the day we met, with all the ridiculous, random chance encounters… I guess we’re fated to be.”
Saki nearly laughed, because it was such a Kyou way to say something so profound.
But she didn’t laugh.
Because she was too busy trying not to cry.
Her throat felt tight, and she was about to make some sarcastic remark—something to lighten the weight of the moment—when Kyou suddenly shifted closer.
And then—
Softly. Gently. Like the simplest truth in the world.
“I love you, Saki.”
The words hung in the air between them, weightless and yet impossibly heavy.
Kyou’s face was calm, steady. But there was something in his eyes—something vulnerable, unguarded.
Saki had never seen him look at anyone like that before.
Her chest ached.
And suddenly, she understood.
She had been running from so many things—her past, her music, her feelings.
But Kyou…
Kyou had never run from her.
She reached up, lightly touching the edge of his scarf—the same one he had given her that night.
Saki inhaled deeply, steadying herself. Then, finally—
She smiled.
Soft. Real. And full of something she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time.
“You took your time,” she murmured.
Kyou huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah.”
Silence.
Then, without thinking too much about it—
Saki leaned forward, resting her forehead lightly against his.
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I love you too.”
Kyou let out a slow breath, something unreadable flickering across his face.
Then, with quiet certainty, he reached out—pulling her into an embrace.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t overwhelming.
It was just warmth, quiet and steady.
Saki melted into it, her arms slipping around him. She could feel his heartbeat—calm, unwavering.
And just as she was about to pull away, Kyou shifted slightly—pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead.
Saki’s eyes fluttered shut.
It was soft. Barely there.
But it was everything.
And in that moment, she knew—
This was home.
* * *
Epilogue: Home
The screen flickered, and Yuuto’s face appeared—blurry at first, then clear as the video call stabilized.
“Oi, you guys alive over there or did Vienna swallow you whole?”
Saki rolled her eyes, adjusting the phone in her hand. “We’ve been here two months, Yuuto. Not two years.”
Across from her, Kyou leaned against the couch, arms crossed, his face half-lit by the glow of the laptop screen. “You look terrible.”
Yuuto scoffed, leaning back into his chair. “Wow, thanks. I love our wholesome reunions.”
Kyou took a slow sip of his coffee. “It’s the truth.”
Saki snorted, and Yuuto groaned dramatically. “I hate both of you.”
“Miss you too, Yuuto,” Saki said, grinning.
The call crackled for a second before Yuuto sighed. “Anyway, I’ve got news. The band got an offer.”
Saki sat up straighter. “A record deal?”
Yuuto grinned. “Damn right. We’re not famous yet, but we’re getting there.”
“That’s amazing,” Saki said, genuine excitement in her voice.
Kyou gave a small nod of approval. “Not bad.”
Yuuto smirked. “We got a new kid on keys. He’s good, but obviously nowhere near your level, Saki.”
She laughed. “I’d hope so.”
Before Yuuto could continue, another voice chimed in from the background.
“Wait, is that Saki and Kyou?”
Saki blinked, recognizing the voice instantly. “Mika?”
The screen shifted slightly as Mika appeared behind Yuuto, casually draping her arms over his shoulders. “Hey, you two. How’s Vienna? Is Kyou still a walking refrigerator?”
Kyou exhaled through his nose. “Still talking too much, I see.”
Mika grinned. “And yet, you love me anyway.”
Yuuto swatted her hand away. “Why are you even here?”
Mika gasped, feigning offense. “Excuse me? You invited me over for dinner.”
Saki raised an eyebrow. “Yuuto… Mika is at your place?”
Yuuto scowled. “She forced her way in.”
Kyou took another sip of coffee. “Sure she did.”
Saki’s smirk widened. “You seem happy, though.”
Yuuto grumbled, shooting a glare at Kyou. “Shut up.”
Kyou shrugged.
Saki laughed. “Well, it’s good to see nothing’s changed.”
Yuuto huffed. “What about you two? Are you surviving?”
Saki leaned back against the couch, glancing at Kyou. “We’re… good.”
Kyou tilted his head. “Vienna’s nice.”
Yuuto rolled his eyes. “Great. A poetic masterpiece of an update.”
Saki giggled. “I’m in classes every day, and Kyou’s been out photographing all over the city. We’ve got our own rhythm now.”
Mika smirked. “So, what’s it like living together?”
Saki blinked. “What?”
Yuuto smirked. “Yeah, what’s it like? Is Kyou still brooding in corners?”
Saki chuckled. “Not as much.” She nudged Kyou playfully. “His eyes don’t look so unreadable anymore.”
Kyou ignored them, but the slight shift in his posture didn’t go unnoticed.
Yuuto grinned knowingly. “Hah. Whipped.”
Kyou finally spoke. “You’re insufferable.”
Mika laughed. “You love us.”
The banter continued until Saki glanced at the time. “I should go. I have class soon.”
Yuuto stretched his arms behind his head. “Fine, fine. We’ll call again soon.”
Saki smiled. “Yeah. And Yuuto?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m really happy for you,” she said softly. “Both of you.”
Yuuto’s teasing expression faded slightly, replaced by something warmer. He gave a small nod. “Same to you, Saki.”
They exchanged their goodbyes, and the call ended, the screen going dark.
For a moment, Saki simply sat there, staring at the black screen.
Then, she let out a slow breath.
She was happy.
She hadn’t been able to say that for so long, hadn’t even let herself believe it was possible.
But now—
She turned her head slightly, glancing at Kyou, who was watching her, quietly waiting. On the corner of her eyes, she saw the framed pictures on their desk, the newer one was the one with her and Kyou smiling in the view of beautiful Vienna, and the other one was all three of them, Saki, Kyou and Yuuto. She smiled and look at Kyou’s eyes.
His eyes—once so distant, so unreadable—were now filled with something softer. Warmer.
Something only meant for her.
Kyou tilted his head slightly. “You ready to go?”
Saki smiled, heart full.
She reached for his hand, fingers threading through his naturally.
Her voice was steady. “Yeah.”
And as they stepped out together into the streets of Vienna, the cold didn’t feel so cold anymore.
Because she had found her home.
* * *
Diary of A Chaotic Dreamer 
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