The world seemed brighter after that rainy evening.
It wasn't as though anything extraordinary had happened. Miyako and Aoi hadn't shared secrets or promises — just an umbrella, a stretch of silence, and the sound of rain on wet pavement. Yet somehow, both of them carried that moment with them like a faint warmth that refused to fade.
For Miyako, it lingered as a curious ache in her chest — soft and pleasant, like nostalgia for something she hadn't yet lost.
For Aoi, it became a quiet pulse of happiness, a reminder that someone had looked at her and seen her, not the empty space beside others.
---
Days turned into weeks, and soon their routine felt effortless.
They studied together in the library, shared lunch under the camphor tree, and texted each other at night about meaningless things — a meme Aoi found funny, a photo of the sky Miyako took from her balcony, a reminder about an upcoming quiz.
It was nothing grand or dramatic. Just small moments stitched together — fragile, ordinary, yet inexplicably precious.
But beneath that simplicity, something deeper began to stir.
---
It started with the way Miyako watched Aoi when she thought no one noticed.
Aoi had a habit of chewing the end of her pen when concentrating, her brows furrowing slightly, her lips pressing together in quiet frustration. Miyako would sit beside her in the library, pretending to read, while her gaze drifted toward the subtle curve of Aoi's profile illuminated by afternoon light.
It wasn't admiration. Not quite.
It was something gentler — a fascination born from the realization that the world seemed quieter, calmer, when Aoi was near.
Her laughter, rare but genuine, made Miyako's chest feel too tight.
And when Aoi looked at her with those soft gray eyes — full of surprise, always as if she couldn't believe Miyako was really there — Miyako would forget how to breathe for a second.
---
One afternoon, after a long day of lectures, they found themselves sitting on a bench near the campus fountain. The cherry blossoms were beginning to bloom, their petals drifting lazily in the breeze.
Miyako had been quiet for a while, lost in thought.
Aoi tilted her head. "You seem… far away."
Miyako blinked, smiling faintly. "Maybe I am."
"Thinking about something important?"
She hesitated before answering. "Maybe someone important."
Aoi's heart skipped. She looked away, trying to hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I-I see…"
Miyako chuckled softly, sensing her embarrassment but choosing not to press. Instead, she leaned back against the bench, closing her eyes.
"Do you ever feel like… the person everyone sees isn't really you?"
Aoi turned to her, startled by the question. "What do you mean?"
Miyako's voice was quiet — fragile, as though she'd never allowed herself to say these words before.
"People look at me and see perfection. They think I'm confident, kind, graceful. But… it's all just something I learned to be. It's not who I really am."
Aoi's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. "Then… who are you, really?"
Miyako opened her eyes, meeting Aoi's gaze. "I don't know," she whispered. "But when I'm with you, I feel closer to finding out."
The world seemed to pause. The petals stopped falling, the fountain's sound faded, and all that existed was the faint thrum of Aoi's heartbeat pounding in her chest.
No one had ever said something like that to her.
No one had ever needed her like that.
---
That night, Aoi lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling of her small apartment. Her heart wouldn't calm down.
Miyako's words echoed in her mind again and again.
When I'm with you, I feel closer to finding out.
Why did it feel like a confession, even if it wasn't?
Why did it make her both happy and scared?
Aoi turned onto her side, pressing her face into her pillow.
It wasn't love. It couldn't be. She had never loved anyone before, not like that.
But still… when Miyako smiled at her, it felt like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky.
And when Miyako's laughter rang out, soft and unguarded, Aoi wanted to protect that sound from the world.
---
The next morning, Aoi arrived early to class. She was surprised to find Miyako already there, sitting alone by the window, gazing out at the courtyard.
"Good morning," Aoi greeted softly.
Miyako turned, and her face brightened instantly. "Aoi! You're early today."
Aoi smiled, embarrassed. "I… didn't sleep much."
"Me neither," Miyako admitted. "Want to get coffee after class?"
It had become their small tradition — coffee on Fridays, at the little café near the campus gate. It was nothing fancy, just two cups of cappuccino and quiet conversation. But to Aoi, those hours felt sacred.
She nodded. "I'd like that."
---
The café smelled like roasted beans and warm bread. They sat by the window, rain tapping gently against the glass again, just like that first day.
Miyako was stirring her drink absentmindedly when she said, "My mother called this morning."
"Everything okay?"
"She wants me to meet the son of one of her friends. Apparently, he's 'a good match.'" Miyako made air quotes, rolling her eyes slightly. "I told her I wasn't interested."
Aoi frowned. "You didn't want to?"
Miyako looked up, her gaze distant but firm. "I don't want to be with someone just because people think I should be. I want to love someone because my heart says so."
Aoi felt something tighten in her chest — a mix of admiration and something she couldn't name.
"That's… brave," she said quietly. "I don't think I could ever say that."
Miyako smiled faintly. "You could. You're stronger than you think."
Aoi met her gaze — and for a long moment, neither of them looked away.
The air between them felt fragile, trembling like a secret on the verge of being spoken.
And in that stillness, both girls realized something terrifying and beautiful.
They had begun to orbit each other — not as friends who happened to meet, but as souls who had found something they didn't know they were missing.
---
Outside, the rain kept falling.
But inside that small café, time seemed to slow — two hearts quietly learning to beat in rhythm, unaware that the world beyond the glass would soon begin to notice.
---