The Things Left Behind

The next morning, Haruki woke up to an unfamiliar silence.

No unread messages.

No hurried footsteps outside his apartment.

No Aoi.

He dressed for school like it was any other day, but everything felt… off. The city still buzzed with life, but it felt quieter, duller. Like something important had been taken away.

Like someone important had been taken away.

---

When he arrived at school, her desk was empty.

Of course, it was.

The teacher didn't even acknowledge it. There was no announcement, no dramatic farewell—just an empty chair, as if Aoi had never been there at all.

But Haruki knew better.

His mind filled with memories—her laughter, her teasing remarks, the way she always seemed to know what he was thinking before he even said a word.

Now, all of that was just… gone.

Someone sat down beside him.

"You okay?" Riku asked.

Haruki didn't answer. He just stared at Aoi's empty desk.

Riku sighed. "Yeah, I figured."

---

Lunch break.

Haruki found himself on the rooftop again. The wind was colder today, sharp against his skin.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled to Aoi's contact.

His thumb hovered over the call button.

But what was the point?

She was probably already gone.

Instead, he switched to their old messages.

The last one still sat there.

Aoi: I'm sorry.

That was it. No explanation, no goodbye. Just two words.

Haruki exhaled sharply and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"Running away, huh?" he muttered to himself.

But was she the one running? Or was he?

---

After school.

Haruki walked home alone. His steps felt heavier than usual.

When he reached his apartment, something made him stop.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he didn't go inside.

Instead, he turned around and walked.

Without thinking, without knowing why, his feet carried him across the city.

Until he was standing in front of her apartment building.

It was quiet.

Haruki stared up at the window where Aoi's room used to be. The curtains were drawn, the lights off.

She was really gone.

He clenched his fists.

Then, just as he turned to leave—

A voice.

"Hey."

Haruki froze. His breath caught in his throat.

Slowly, he turned back.

And there, standing near the entrance, was an old woman—the landlord.

"You're looking for that girl, aren't you?" she asked.

Haruki hesitated before nodding.

The old woman smiled knowingly. "She left something for you."

Haruki's heart skipped a beat. "For me?"

She nodded and disappeared inside for a moment. When she returned, she held out a small brown envelope.

"She said you'd come," the woman chuckled. "That girl… she really knew you, huh?"

Haruki swallowed and took the envelope. His fingers trembled slightly as he opened it.

Inside was a single note, written in her handwriting.

Haruki,

I didn't say goodbye because I didn't want it to be goodbye.

But I know that's selfish.

So here it is.

Goodbye.

Thank you for everything.

Aoi.

Haruki stared at the words, his chest tightening.

She was really gone.

And all that was left… was this.

---

That night, Haruki sat in his room, staring at the note.

His mind kept replaying everything.

Their first meeting.

Their arguments.

Their late-night walks.

The way she had looked at him before she left.

He should've said something.

Should've stopped her.

But now, it was too late.

Slowly, he folded the note and placed it inside his notebook.

Then, picking up his pen, he wrote beneath it:

"Some goodbyes happen in silence, but that doesn't mean they hurt any less."

---