The afternoon sun, too bright and too ordinary, slanted through the classroom window. I didn't see the chalk dust floating in the light; I saw a single, clear vision: Jun's hand, gripping the strap of his borrowed backpack, waving as he headed toward the train station.
(Why did I let him go alone?)
I squeezed my pen so hard my knuckles turned white. He said he would go downtown after the placement test to pick up some necessary stationery and finally get a SIM card. He was trying so hard to catch up, to fit his two-years-older self into the world he left behind. But a simple trip for a SIM card felt like sending a ship into a storm.
(He's only been back a week, and I'm already this dependent. How pathetic, Yui. You waited two years without a single tear, and now a missed text message is enough to shatter your composure.)
My phone was a cold, inert brick in my blazer pocket. His current phone could only connect via Wi-Fi; downtown was a dead zone. The reality hit me: I had no way to track him, no way to contact him, and no way to know if that terrible, silent abyss had somehow swallowed him again.
The history teacher's voice was a distant, annoying buzz. I watched the clock hand jump from 3:15 to 3:16. The final message I'd sent hours ago was still marked delivered, not read.
When the final bell screamed its release, I packed my bag with frantic speed.
(He's probably waiting for me right now. He'll be leaning against the main gate, looking smug, ready to walk me home. He wouldn't miss the walk, would he?)
Just as I was trying to force my feet toward the genkan, a small cluster of girls—Rina, Haruka, and the usual satellites—drifted toward my desk.
"Hanamura-san, are you leaving already?" Haruka asked, her voice hushed.
I straightened, smoothing the pleats of my skirt. The Silent Princess mask slid back into place: calm, cool, and perfectly polite. "Yes. I have something I need to attend to."
"Oh, is it Kuroda-kun?" Rina asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. "You two are so close now, holding hands even in the courtyard. It's like a romance manga come to life."
I offered them the smallest, most reserved smile—the kind that showed pride without revealing vulnerability. "We have always been close, Rina-san. He's still a bit troublesome, so I have to keep a tighter grip."
I slipped out of the classroom, leaving them to their gossip. The praise was addictive, but the anxiety was stronger. My commitment wasn't just a vow; it was a physical need. I needed to see him, to feel his warmth.
*
The smell of my mother's miso soup was usually the warmest, safest scent in the world. Tonight, it felt mocking.
I was sitting perfectly still on the living room sofa, staring at the clock above the television. 6:00 PM. (He should have found a Wi-Fi spot at a café or station by now. Why hasn't he even glanced at my text?)
I tried to rationalize it. Buying a SIM card probably meant dealing with a complicated sales clerk and endless paperwork. For Jun, who had missed the last two years of relentless technological advancements, it must have been pure torture.
"Mother?" I called out, my voice betraying only a slight tremor. "Did Jun-kun say what time he would be back?"
My mother appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. "Oh, Jun-kun? He just said he had to take his test and buy some stationery. He didn't give an exact time. Why? Are you worried, dear?"
(Of course, I'm worried. Two years of silence doesn't just vanish because he's in my house.)
6:30 PM. The worry deepened, turning into a cold, hard stone in my gut. I imagined a hundred impossible scenarios: another accident, getting lost in the city, or worse—a complete relapse into that terrible silence.
7:00 PM. I couldn't breathe. I stood abruptly, grabbing my denim jacket and shoving my feet into my sneakers.
"I'm going out," I announced, forcing the words past the knot in my throat.
"Yui, where are you going?"
"I just... need to buy something," I lied, already halfway to the door.
My hand was just reaching for the knob—the cold, solid metal a promise of action—when the door suddenly swung inward.
And there he was.
Jun Kuroda stood framed in the doorway, his silhouette backlit by the gentle orange glow of the streetlamp. He looked exhausted, slightly overwhelmed, and completely laden with various paper bags just as he had promised.
"Yui? Are you heading out?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.
In that instant, the dam that had held back two years of absolute terror and the last hour of escalating panic shattered. I didn't speak. I simply lunged.
My arms wrapped tightly around his waist, burying my face deep into his shoulder. I clung to him, inhaling the perfect, familiar scent of him—cedar, ozone, and a faint, sweet smell of a stationery store. It was the only way to confirm he was real.
"Yui?" he asked, a confused sound escaping his throat as the bags crinkled under my desperate hug. "Did something happen at school?"
I clung harder, letting out a choked, ragged sob. The sound was unfamiliar, shameful, and raw.
When I finally pulled back, my relief was immediately replaced by fierce, defensive anger. I wiped my face quickly, trying to restore order.
"You idiot! Why didn't you reply to my texts? Why are you so late? Didn't you say you were getting a SIM card? You—"
I stopped, turning sharply, my lip trembling, and marched back toward the stairs. I couldn't stand there and interrogate him; the tears were too close.
*
I threw myself onto my bed. Jun followed me, closing the door softly behind him, the paper bags discarded gently on the floor. He sat down hesitantly beside me, his large hand resting on the blanket.
"Yui," he started. "I'm sorry."
The apology was the final trigger. I buried my face in the pillow.
"I—I was worried!" I sobbed into the cotton. "I thought... I thought maybe... maybe you were gone again! Don't you know how terrifying it is to lose contact with you? I can't do two more years of silence!"
He reached out and gently stroked my hair, his touch a familiar, grounding warmth that instantly quieted the storm.
"I'm so sorry, Yui. That was reckless of me," he whispered. "I didn't get the SIM card. The salespeople kept pushing me to buy a new phone first, and it was so much paperwork. I didn't understand which plan to get. It was all so confusing."
(Ah, of course. Two years. He's trying to catch up on a million tiny decisions.)
"And for the thing I wanted, the shop didn't have the specific one I was looking for, so I kept looking around, and I lost track of time," he finished quietly. "I'm sorry I made you cry."
Before I could fully regain my composure, Jun gently pulled me toward him, settling me on his lap. He wrapped his arms around my stomach, pressing my back against his chest. (Ah... how could I possibly stay angry? This immediate, overpowering warmth was his greatest and most unfair weapon, utterly shattering every defense I had built. I was completely defeated.)
"I'm really sorry for worrying you, Yui," he murmured, his voice a low vibration against the back of my neck. "But I promise, I'm never leaving your side again."
I instinctively lifted my hand and rested it on his forearm, a silent, trembling acceptance of his vow.
He paused, and I felt him shift behind me.
"And you know," he continued, his voice taking on a teasing, confident tone, "it takes a long time to find a present worthy of the Princess."
He reached into one of the bags on the floor and pulled out a small, velvet-covered box. He placed it in my hands.
I opened it. Inside, nestled against the dark fabric, was a delicate necklace. It was a simple, pure silver chain, anchored by a tiny, perfectly formed crescent moon charm.
"It's beautiful," I whispered, my voice rough.
Jun took the box. He shifted me slightly, raising the chain. "Let me put it on you."
He gently undid the clasp, the cool metal brushing my neck as he guided the chain around it. His fingers lingered at my nape as he fastened it. Then, he leaned down and whispered into my ear, his breath warm and ticklish.
"Happy belated birthday, Yui. Your fifteenth, specifically. I lost time, so I'm trying to check the milestones one by one. I'm sorry it's so late. And I didn't have time to find something for your sixteenth yet."
Birthday. Birthday!
The word hit me like a physical blow. Jun's birthday. The first birthday he had celebrated since he returned.
My hand flew to my mouth in a sudden, sickening wave of shame. I had forgotten. I had been so consumed by the sheer relief of having him back, by my own two-year battle, that I had completely failed to acknowledge his moment.
Tears, fresh and hot, flooded my eyes again, but this time they were born of pure guilt. I turned in his lap, hitting his chest lightly with my fist.
"No! No, no, no!" I cried.
Jun's face instantly registered confusion. "Ah... you hate it that much?" he asked, misinterpreting my frantic tears.
"No, I love it, you idiot!" I stammered, scrambling to reach for my bag.
My hands rummaged frantically through the side pocket. I pulled out a small, carefully folded piece of tissue paper. Unwrapping it revealed a pair of simple, braided cord bracelets—handmade, with a small, smooth river stone tied into the center of each. The matching promise charms. I had made them for his sixteenth birthday, two years ago. I made one every year, just in case.
I shoved the male bracelet into his hand.
"I didn't forget your birthday!" I cried, my voice trembling and thick. "It's just... it's just so much happened with you finally being back... I forgot the date! I forgot the day! I should have given you these sooner!"
Jun's arms tightened instantly around my waist, pulling me back onto his lap and trapping me.
"Stop, Yui," he said, his voice quiet, deep, and steady. It was the voice of the true Jun. "It doesn't feel that long for..."
He stopped himself mid-sentence, letting the painful echo of the two-year gap hang between us. Instead, he simply rested his forehead against mine.
"Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you for still believing in me. And thank you for keeping your promise."
His hands left my waist. One cupped my cheek, his thumb gently wiping the tear streaks away. The other rose to the necklace he had just placed on me, his fingers closing around the cold, silver moon.
He looked into my wet, red eyes. "If I kiss you, will you stop crying?"
He didn't wait for my answer.
His lips met mine in a kiss that was neither soft nor rough, but perfectly, overwhelmingly certain. It tasted of my saltwater tears and his gentle apology, a complex, fierce flavor of all the loss and all the overwhelming relief. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself impossibly closer, desperate to merge our two separate timelines into one singular, perfect moment. This kiss was a surrender of my guilt, a fierce confirmation of his return, and the silent, unspoken promise that we would spend the rest of our lives making up for every single second the universe had stolen from us.
We pulled apart, both breathless, our foreheads touching.
"I'm home, Yui," he whispered, his eyes closed. "I'm finally, finally home."
I couldn't reply. I just pressed my face into his neck, letting the final, joyful tears soak into his collar. I was safe. And for the first time in two years, so was he.