Sunday morning came quietly.
Sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains, painting pale strips across the ceiling. Jousuke lay still for a moment, eyes half-open, his mind blank—just the soft hum of morning silence filling the room.
Then, his phone buzzed once.
He didn't move right away.
It buzzed again.
And again.
Finally, he reached for it.
The screen was full of messages—from Boutsuki-san, Sakurai-san, Miyazaki-san, Poku-chan, Jitsukawa-san, Asano-kun, Esashi-kun, teachers, group chats, missed calls.
He stared at the screen a long time.
"…A lot of them were worried, huh…"
His thumb hovered above the notifications.
He didn't open any of theirs.
Instead, he tapped the newest one:
Sakamoto:
Oi. We heard you're okay.
We're at Hoshikawa Coffee. Come if you can.
Asa:
We won't say anything heavy unless you wanna.
We just wanna see you, man.
Jousuke exhaled slowly.
He didn't reply.
But he got up.
Dressed.
Left the house.
The bell at the café door chimed when he stepped inside.
Warm air, the scent of roasted beans, and soft background jazz filled the space.
Sakamoto saw him first, sitting in a window booth. His usual relaxed expression softened—just slightly.
Asa stood from his seat without saying anything and pulled Jousuke into a brief, firm hug.
No jokes.
No loud greetings.
Just warmth.
They sat.
For a few minutes, none of them spoke.
The city outside moved gently—people walking, cars passing, life continuing.
Finally, Sakamoto broke the silence.
"Ryuusei told Sakurai-san about your grandfather," he said quietly. "Then she told us."
Asa nodded, looking at Jousuke with a softness rarely seen from him.
"We didn't know," Asa said. "I'm… sorry."
Jousuke stared into the untouched cup of tea in front of him.
"…It happened too fast," he said. His voice was steady, but the tiredness beneath it was unmistakable. "I didn't know how to face it. Or anyone."
Sakamoto leaned back slightly, hands loosely clasped.
"You don't need to apologize for disappearing."
Asa rested his elbow on the table.
"Grief… hits however it hits. You just survived it the way you could."
Jousuke lowered his head.
"…Thank you."
Silence again—gentle this time.
Then Sakamoto exhaled.
"…So," he said, eyes shifting, not sharp but careful, "about Miyazaki-san, Boutsuki-san, and Sakurai-san."
Asa made a quiet, awkward sound.
"Yeah… that."
Jousuke closed his eyes.
"I know," he murmured. "I have to choose. I can't keep them waiting. I promised I'd give my answer on Monday."
Asa's eyes softened.
"And you care about all of them."
"…I do."
Sakamoto didn't smile, but his voice was gentle.
"Then this isn't about choosing the right person. It's about choosing the person your heart already moves toward."
Asa nodded.
"Not the one who needs you most. Not the one who loves you most. The one you love."
Jousuke's fingers tightened around the warm cup.
"But… I don't want to hurt anyone."
"You will," Sakamoto said simply. "That's unavoidable."
"But," Asa added, leaning forward, "you won't hurt them on purpose. And that matters."
Jousuke lifted his eyes.
"…How do I know which one I—"
He couldn't finish.
Sakamoto looked at him then—not as a friend teasing, nor as a classmate observing, but as someone who understood being overwhelmed by the world.
"Not by thinking," he said.
"By feeling."
Asa let out a breath, leaning back.
"When your chest gets quiet… when everything stops shaking inside… the answer will be there."
Jousuke sat still.
Inside his chest, emotions shifted—slow, heavy, unresolved—but for the first time in weeks, they weren't suffocating.
"…I'll try," he said.
Both Asa and Sakamoto nodded at the same time.
No pressure.
No judgment.
Just support.
Outside the window, the sunlight brightened slightly, warming the glass.
Sunday continued on—soft, slow, and uncertain.
But not lonely.