Three days passed after the accident.
Ren's body recovered slowly, day by day. His wounds faded, his strength returned—but his memories did not.
During those three days, Aoi came every day.
He stood outside the hospital room, speaking quietly with Ms. Aiko, asking the same questions each time.
"How is he today?" "Did he eat?"
"Is he feeling any better?"
Today, Aoi finally gathered the courage to ask.
"Can I…see him?" he said softly. "Just once."
Ms. Aiko hesitated.
"Aoi," she said gently, "he won't remember you. It might be awkward… confusing for him." She paused before adding, "We need time. If his memories return, it won't be easy right away."
She didn't say the rest—
That the chances were slim. That the damage to Ren's head was severe.
Aoi lowered his gaze. "Then…" his voice trembled, "…can you at least take good care of him?"
He couldn't stop the tear that slipped down his cheek.
Ms. Aiko's chest tightened at the sight. She reached out instinctively.
"I promise," she said softly. "I'll do everything I can. If there's any change, I'll tell you immediately."
"…Thank you, Ms. Aiko," Aoi whispered.
He turned to leave—then stopped.
As if remembering something important, he turned back and reached into his pocket.
"Please," he said, holding out a necklace. A small crescent-shaped charm caught the light.
"He gave this to me on my birthday."
His fingers tightened around it before letting go.
"Maybe… if he sees it, something might come back."
Ms. Aiko nodded, taking it carefully. "I'll give it to him."
"Do you need anything else?" she asked.
"No," Aoi replied quietly. "Thank you."
Then he left.
—
Aoi returned home exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally.
The thought that hurt the most was simple:
he couldn't see Ren anymore.
The person who had always stood beside him. The one who made things feel lighter when his home felt heavy.
What they had wasn't just friendship. It never had been.
They were closer than that—closer than words could explain.
Aoi fell asleep without meaning to.
When he woke later, he ate dinner in silence.
After that, he sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, searching for something—he didn't know what.
Then he saw it.
A photo. Him and Ren, standing close together, smiling brightly. It was from Aoi's birthday.
He didn't swipe past it. He stared at the screen for a long moment as his chest tightened, and a tear slipped down his cheek.
"Everything will be okay, Aoi."
He looked up.
His mother stood there, closer than usual. She reached out and held his hands gently.
"He'll regain his memories eventually," she said, trying to comfort him.
Aoi blinked in surprise.
She rarely did this. Rarely slowed down.
Rarely made time for him at all.
And somehow, that made the moment hurt even more.
His mother hesitated—then suddenly pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry, Aoi," she whispered.
The words caught him off guard.
Slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at her. "…What are you apologizing for?"
She didn't answer right away.
"For making you feel alone," she said finally.
"I know you've been having a hard time." Her voice wavered.
"I wasn't there when you needed me… and I'm sorry."
Aoi didn't know what to say.
So he said nothing.
He only stood there, letting the moment exist—unsure if it would last, but grateful that, for once, someone had noticed.
—
The next morning, Aoi woke up to raised voices.
His parents.
He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening as their words blurred together—sharp, tense, familiar.
They were arguing. Again.
With a quiet sigh, he pushed himself out of bed and stepped into the hallway.
As he reached the living room, his father's voice rose higher, cutting through the air.
His mother responded quickly, her tone tight.
"Stop it," she said. "Not in front of Aoi. We'll talk about this later."
His father scoffed.
"Fine," he snapped. "Then take him and tell him what he's supposed to know."
Aoi frowned.
"…Tell me what?"
His mother didn't answer. She simply reached for his hand and gently pulled him along, leading him back to his room.
The door closed behind them.
Aoi turned to her, confusion twisting in his chest.
"Mom… what's going on?"
He hesitated, then asked, "What am I supposed to know?"
She stood there for a moment, as if searching for the right words.
Finally, she spoke.
"Aoi…"
Her voice softened. "I know this isn't what you want. I know you want to stay."
He stiffened.
"But your father and I… we've talked about it for a long time."
She took a slow breath.
"And we've decided that you'll continue your studies abroad."
The words hit him harder than he expected.
"…Abroad?" he repeated quietly.
She nodded, unable to meet his eyes.
"It's a good opportunity. For your future. For your education."
Aoi's hands clenched at his sides.
"But I didn't—" His voice faltered. "I didn't say I wanted to leave."
"I know," she said softly.
"That's why this is so hard."
"But mom—"
She didn't let him finish.
"Think it through, Aoi," she said quietly. "This is important."
Then she turned away.
—
Aoi blinked.
The memory faded, leaving him staring at the ceiling of the room.
The present came rushing back all at once.
Aoi exhaled slowly.
Years had passed since then—and yet, standing in the present, he realized the distance between him and Ren had never truly disappeared.