It had stopped raining by the time they reached the edge of Shibuya.
The streets still shimmered under the glow of traffic lights, reflecting puddles of red and yellow. Leo and Arie stood under the awning of a bakery, the shared umbrella folded in Arie's hands like a closed secret.
She looked up at the sky.
"No stars tonight," she said softly.
"Too many buildings," Leo replied.
She smiled faintly. "Maybe the stars just don't like being watched."
That was Arie—half whimsical, half warning. Always somewhere between now and not here.
They parted at the subway. No promises. No question of tomorrow.
---
The next morning, Leo came to the café.
She wasn't there.
Nor the next day. Nor the one after that.
The chair by the window remained empty, and the light didn't feel the same. He still ordered coffee. Still opened his sketchbook. But instead of trying to draw her face, he drew from memory—the way she held her cup, the arch of her brow when she was amused, the way she leaned forward when listening like the world was whispering.
By the fourth day, he had started to worry.
By the fifth, he had accepted she might not return.
And on the sixth—just when he thought the rhythm had broken—Arie walked through the café door.
Leo froze.
She looked the same. Hoodie, tea, eyes tired but steady.
But this time… she sat at his table.
She placed her cup between them and pushed it slightly forward.
"Too hot," she said. "Fix it."
Leo blinked. "I'm not a magician."
"No," she said, "but you make things easier to hold."
His breath caught.
"You disappeared."
"I know."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes I pull away before I fall."
Leo stared at her, long and quiet.
And all she said was, "But I'm still here."
- Written by H1M