Day 13: Sketches of You

The next morning, Kaito couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between him and Hana the previous day. Her words—her quiet vulnerability, the way she opened up to him in a way she hadn't before—kept replaying in his mind. But something about it felt incomplete, like there was still more she wasn't telling him. He just couldn't figure out what.

That afternoon, after their mural session, Kaito found himself lingering near the art room, reluctant to leave. He wanted to see Hana again, to talk more, but he didn't want to push her too far, either. They had already crossed a line, and he wasn't sure if they were ready for what came next.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of their last class, Kaito reluctantly walked toward the art room. He was hoping Hana might still be there, finishing up her work. When he pushed open the door, he found her sitting in front of her half-finished mural, her back to him, focused entirely on the colors she was mixing.

She didn't hear him enter. Kaito hesitated, watching her for a moment, as if trying to read the thoughts in her posture. She seemed distant, absorbed in her work. Then, his eyes fell on something on the desk near her—the corner of a sketchbook sticking out from under a stack of papers. Curiosity piqued, Kaito walked over quietly and picked it up.

He flipped the book open to the first page, not knowing what to expect. But as his eyes scanned the pages, his heart sank, and a strange mixture of surprise and guilt washed over him.

The pages were filled with sketches—of him.

There was the doodle of him in the hallway during their first encounter, a small, quick sketch of him laughing with his friends. There was another, this time of him sitting in the art room, absentmindedly sketching his own stick-figure version of the mural. Some were detailed, others were rough, but every one captured a part of him in a way that left Kaito speechless. The lines, the shading, the subtle expressions—they told a story.

Hana had been sketching him. She had been paying attention to him in ways he hadn't even realized.

Kaito turned the pages, each one revealing more and more of him—his laugh, his expressions, even the moments he thought were inconsequential. He saw sketches of his messy hair, his crooked grin, and a scene of him nervously trying to figure out the mural—completely unaware that he was the subject of her art all along.

Then, toward the back of the sketchbook, there was a drawing that made his chest tighten. It was a portrait of him standing in the rain from their bike ride the other night, a soft, blurred background and the unmistakable sadness in his eyes as he looked away from her. It wasn't just him, Kaito realized—it was them. It was their time together, captured in ink.

Hana had been seeing more in him than he had ever known, and all of a sudden, it felt like the weight of their shared moments hit him full force. She hadn't just been a quiet observer, distant and removed—she had been feeling everything too. She had been drawing him, capturing their moments, even when she hadn't shared what they meant.

Kaito turned the last page, where there was one final sketch—a simple one, but it took his breath away. It was of the two of them, standing side by side, looking at the mural they were working on. The image was small, almost like a snapshot, but it was more than that. It was a moment frozen in time, filled with unspoken words and feelings that had never been voiced.

Kaito closed the book slowly, his hands shaking slightly. He felt like he had just uncovered something he wasn't supposed to see, a part of Hana he hadn't understood before.

Just as he was about to set the sketchbook back down on the desk, he heard a voice from behind him.

"You shouldn't be looking at that."

Kaito turned around, startled. Hana stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable, though her eyes were filled with a quiet sadness. She was clearly caught off guard that he had seen her sketches.

"I—I didn't mean to," Kaito stammered, his face flushing with embarrassment. "I just... I didn't realize—"

Hana stepped into the room, her gaze softening slightly. "You weren't supposed to see them," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not... it's not for you."

Kaito didn't know what to say. He could feel his heart pounding, the words stuck in his throat. "I had no idea…" His voice trailed off as he met her eyes, the weight of the moment sinking in. "You've been... drawing me."

Hana looked away, as if embarrassed by her own actions. She hesitated for a moment, then sighed, her voice barely audible. "I didn't know how else to understand all of this. You—your jokes, your pranks, the way you make everything seem so... light. I guess I wanted to hold onto it. To remember it."

Her voice faltered toward the end, and Kaito could see how much it cost her to admit this. How much she had been carrying without letting him know.

"You don't have to hold onto it," Kaito said softly, his gaze gentle. "It's not something you have to keep a secret. I... I don't want you to feel like you're alone in this."

Hana looked at him, her eyes filling with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something that almost looked like fear. She didn't say anything for a long moment, her gaze fixed on him, as if searching for something in his expression.

Finally, she spoke, her voice quieter than before. "You've made these last few weeks... better. Even if I don't know how to say it. I didn't think I'd find anyone who'd make it harder to leave."

Kaito's heart skipped a beat. She had been drawing him all this time, capturing their moments, even the ones he didn't think were worth remembering. In those sketches, Hana had seen him—not the troublemaker, not the class clown, but something more. Something real.

"I don't want you to leave, Hana," Kaito said, his voice earnest. "But I don't know how to make that happen. I just... don't want you to feel like you're disappearing."

Hana looked at him for a long moment, her eyes reflecting the same mixture of longing and sadness he felt. "I don't know what to do with this feeling, Kaito. But I'm glad you're here."

Kaito didn't have the words to answer, but as they stood there together, surrounded by the sketches that told their story, he knew one thing for sure—whatever was left of their time, he was going to make every moment count.