—Naoaki's POV—
Rain followed me for days.
Not literally, but it felt like wherever I went—there it was. Like the sky was mourning something it couldn't name. Maybe I was too.
I hadn't spoken to Ren since the day at the station.
I saw him in class.
I saw him in the halls.
I saw him everywhere.
But never once did we speak.
It was like I was trying to reach through a veil. Like I could see him, but not touch him.
"Are you okay?" Akane asked during lunch, fiddling with her chopsticks. "You've been really… quiet lately."
I nodded, smiling without meaning it. "Just tired."
She looked like she didn't believe me, but didn't press. That's what I liked about her—she was kind, but she didn't push too far.
"If you need to talk," she said softly, "I'm here."
I thought about it for a second—saying There's this boy, and I think we knew each other before this life, and every time I see him it feels like I'm dying a little more—but I just nodded.
"Thanks."
That night, I had the dream again.
Rain.
Crumpled letters.
A voice I couldn't hear saying something I couldn't understand.
Then—hands letting go.
Falling.
A shadow walking away.
When I woke up, my pillow was damp.
Not from rain.
The next day, I saw him at the back of the library. Alone. Reading something old and weathered.
He didn't look up when I walked in, but I felt the shift in the air—like he knew I was there.
I didn't know why I walked over.
Maybe I was tired of pretending we weren't orbiting each other like ghosts.
"You always sit here?" I asked.
He turned a page. Didn't answer.
"Are you… avoiding me?"
He glanced up.
"If I say yes, will you stop talking to me?"
I looked down at my shoes. "No."
He sighed, set the book down, and leaned back. "You're stubborn."
"I've been told."
Another silence. But not sharp this time. Just… lingering.
"What are you reading?" I asked.
He showed me the cover.
The Tale of Genji.
A story about love and loss that stretched through time. Fitting, somehow.
"You like sad stories?"
He shrugged. "They feel more honest."
I nodded slowly. "I think… I liked them too. Even before I knew why."
He turned to me, his voice quieter. "Maybe you still don't."
The rain started again when I stepped outside the school gates that evening.
I didn't run.
I let it fall on me like it wanted to wash something away.
Then I heard footsteps.
Ren, holding an umbrella over both of us.
"I thought you didn't want to talk," I said.
"I don't."
"Then why—?"
"Because you'll catch a cold."
I looked up at him. He was taller than I remembered. Or maybe I just hadn't looked closely enough until now.
He was handsome in that effortless, intimidating way—sharp jawline, stormy eyes, hair slightly messy like he never tried to impress anyone. And yet, here he was.
Carrying an umbrella for someone he didn't want to talk to.
Maybe that was love, too.
We walked together, silently, the water rushing around our shoes.
He didn't say anything.
Neither did I.
But something unspoken settled in the space between us.
A truce. A tether. A ghost we both knew but hadn't named.
Somewhere deep inside, something whispered:
> You've done this before.
And you'll do it again.