The night had passed like a whisper. Kaito didn't dream. Or if he did, he didn't remember. For once, there were no shadows tugging at his ankles, no cold water dragging him under. Just warmth. A faint ache in his arms, sure, and the bruises hadn't faded, but the silence around him hadn't felt lonely.
He had whispered to Toty before falling asleep:
"Please… let them keep hearing me."
He hadn't meant to say it aloud.
But no one laughed. No one stirred.
And yet, in the faint rustling of bedsheets and the stillness in the room, he felt it: they had heard him.
---
The morning sunlight stretched softly across the dorm floor, golden and warm. Ren moved first. His desk lamp was still on, casting a pale halo over his notes. He turned it off with a sigh, then crossed to Kaito's bed and gently nudged the blanket.
"Wake up, Cotton Ball. You'll be late."
Kaito blinked slowly, dazed. For a second, his body froze out of habit—waiting for a cruel voice, a shout, a shove. But none came. Only Ren's calm presence, the way he stepped back once Kaito stirred, giving space.
"He remembered... he used Toty's name."
The thought floated out, unguarded.
Ren didn't react aloud, but he paused by his closet a moment too long.
Azel stretched, hair a mess, tossing his pillow onto Kaito's lap. "You're gonna make me miss breakfast again. Up, rabbit."
Kaito sat up slowly. His body still hurt, but his heart didn't race. He nodded once and moved to get dressed. Azel watched him shuffle into his oversized hoodie.
"Take Toty. He'll get cold," Azel muttered.
Kaito hugged the bunny close.
"They're still here… they didn't leave. It's warm today."
---
The canteen buzzed like a low swarm. Plates clattered. Boys shouted across tables. Someone dropped a tray.
Kaito stood at the line, overwhelmed, until Azel appeared beside him and casually slid a tray into his hands.
"Toast, eggs, and jam. And chocolate milk. Don't argue."
Ren joined them at a window seat, silent as ever. He said nothing as Kaito sat between them, head bowed.
But when Kaito picked up the toast and didn't flinch with every bite, Ren heard it:
"They're real. They're staying. Just for now, I want this."
---
Literature Class was unusually calm. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting drowsy patterns over desks.
The teacher read aloud a haiku, voice gentle:
"Old pond— a frog jumps in, the sound of water."
Kaito felt the words sink into his chest like warm tea.
"...I like this one. It sounds like breathing."
He didn't realize he'd drawn a tiny bunny in the margin of his notebook until Azel leaned in and snorted.
"You gave me star eyes. What am I, a magical girl?"
Kaito stiffened—then giggled. Not loud. Not shrill. Just a breathy, startled puff of laughter that sounded like wind rustling petals.
The class continued. But for Ren and Azel, time stopped.
Azel blinked, stunned. Ren didn't look up, but his hand curled slightly over the corner of his notebook.
"I forgot laughing could happen. I want them to laugh too."
Neither boy said anything. But both held that sound close like a keepsake.
---
After School brought rain clouds and heavy air.
Azel barged into the dorm first. "We're watching a movie. I'm picking something dumb and happy. Don't argue."
Kaito peeked out from behind Toty. Azel handed him the remote.
"Fine. You pick. But if it's depressing, I'm throwing your rabbit out the window."
Kaito's hand hovered over a bright rom-com with a bunny on the poster.
"This one has a bunny in it."
Azel smirked. "That one."
Kaito's eyes widened. He hadn't spoken.
Ren gave a small cough. "Lucky guess."
They pulled one mattress onto the floor. Azel sprawled out like a cat. Ren sat straight-backed against the wall. Kaito settled between them, Toty balanced on his lap like a shield.
The movie played.
A silly moment passed—someone slipped on soap and knocked down a tower of cupcakes. Kaito tried to hold it in. But the laughter slipped out anyway.
This time louder. Real.
He clutched Toty, trying to muffle it.
Ren heard:
"I sound weird, don't I?"
Azel, without missing a beat, threw popcorn at him. "You sound annoying. Keep going."
Kaito blinked, stunned—then smiled.
Really smiled.
---
Later that night, the storm finally hit. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Rain lashed the windows.
Kaito wrapped himself in his blanket like a burrito, Toty tucked under his chin.
Ren dimmed the lights. Azel grunted, shifting beside them.
"You hog blankets, you know. You twitch in your sleep too."
Kaito's head tilted, gently resting against Ren's shoulder. He didn't seem to notice he'd done it.
Ren stayed perfectly still.
Azel scooted closer, pretending to grab the remote—but didn't move away again.
Kaito's thoughts drifted, gentle and sleepy:
"I'm not cold tonight. They're warm. I hope Toty isn't jealous."
Ren looked at Azel.
Azel looked back.
No one said a word.
Kaito sighed in his sleep.
And for the first time, the silence didn't ache.
It pulsed gently, like a heartbeat shared across three bodies, one bunny, and one storm outside.