Chapter 12: The Greenhouse of Light

Aika's Perspective: A Place Painted in Sunlight

The path to the greenhouse felt like a forgotten trail, with overgrown weeds stretching between the cracks in the stone pavement. The trees lining the walkway swayed gently, their leaves rustling in the breeze, scattering tiny flecks of golden light onto the ground.

Aika walked in silence beside Riku, her sketchbook tucked securely under her arm.

She wasn't sure what she had expected when he first mentioned this place. Maybe some run-down, abandoned structure filled with dust and cobwebs. Someplace barely holding itself together.

But when they reached it, she stopped in her tracks.

The greenhouse stood quietly at the edge of the school grounds, half-consumed by nature but still standing strong. Ivy crept up the glass walls, weaving a delicate pattern of green against the transparent panels. Sunlight filtered through the smudged glass, spilling into the space inside like liquid gold. The air smelled of damp earth and overgrown flowers, a mixture of fresh and nostalgic.

Aika's fingers tightened around her sketchbook.

It was… beautiful.

"…Well?" Riku nudged her with his elbow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad, huh?"

Aika exhaled slowly, trying to push down the warmth rising in her chest. "It's… nice."

"'Nice'?" Riku repeated, dramatically clutching his chest. "Come on, at least give me an 'amazing' or 'breathtaking'—I risked my life finding this place, you know."

Aika shot him a skeptical look. "You risked your life?"

"Absolutely. I was out here, all alone, braving the wilderness—"

"It's a greenhouse, not a jungle."

"—fighting against the elements—"

"It's literally right behind the school."

"—and enduring extreme boredom while waiting for the perfect moment to bring you here."

Aika sighed, but there was an undeniable lightness in her chest. The past few weeks had been strange—Riku had seemed distant, tired, something unspoken weighing on him. But today, he was back to being the same ridiculous idiot she was used to.

And strangely, that put her at ease.

"Well," she finally said, stepping forward, "I guess I should be honored by your sacrifice."

Riku grinned. "You should."

Aika ignored him and entered the greenhouse, her footsteps light against the dirt-covered floor. The interior was a little messy, some of the old wooden benches cracked from age, but the beauty of the space was undeniable.

She moved toward one of the cleaner benches and sat down, flipping open her sketchbook.

Sunlight streaming through old glass.

Leaves swaying gently in the warm air.

The scent of rain and flowers lingering in the air.

Her fingers itched to capture it all.

Riku plopped down beside her, stretching his arms behind his head. "So? Worth the trip?"

She gave a small nod. "Yeah… It's perfect."

She expected him to gloat, but when she turned her head, he wasn't looking at her—he was staring at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

Then, just as quickly as the moment came, he grinned. "Knew it."

Aika frowned slightly. Something about the way he looked just then—like he was trying to memorize the scene—made her stomach twist.

But before she could dwell on it, he clapped his hands together. "Alright! Let's talk about something important—lunch. I think you owe me."

Aika scoffed. "You're the one who brought me here. You owe me."

Riku groaned dramatically. "Unbelievable. No appreciation for my hard work."

Aika shook her head, fighting the smile tugging at her lips.

As she pressed her pencil to the page, she allowed herself to relax.

For now, everything felt normal.

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Riku's Perspective: Holding on to the Light

Riku leaned back, feeling the warmth of the sun press against his skin.

He had been coming here for a while now.

It was quiet. Peaceful. A place that felt untouched by time, where he could pretend, even for a little while, that nothing was changing.

At first, he had just wanted to be alone here.

But then he had thought about Aika.

About the way she always seemed most alive when she was drawing, her expression soft, her eyes filled with something untouchable.

She belonged in a place like this—somewhere filled with light, where her art could breathe, where she could sit in the sun and draw like the rest of the world didn't exist.

And, selfishly, he had wanted to see that.

He turned his head slightly, watching her as she sketched, her lips slightly parted in quiet concentration. Sunlight filtered through the glass, catching the strands of her hair, turning them into soft gold.

She looked… peaceful.

Something in his chest twisted.

He didn't want to think about it.

Not the moments where his fingers felt too stiff when he played guitar.

Not the way exhaustion crept in faster, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

Not the way time felt like it was slipping through his fingers, no matter how tightly he held on.

He had spent so much time making sure she didn't notice—pushing himself harder, teasing her like always, acting like nothing had changed.

And for now, it was enough.

"…Oi."

Aika's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He blinked, turning toward her.

She was staring at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "You're awfully quiet."

Riku forced a smirk. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

Aika snorted. "That's what worries me."

But she didn't press further. Instead, she turned back to her drawing, letting the silence settle between them again.

Riku exhaled slowly, leaning his head back against the bench.

If he could freeze time, he would.

But he couldn't.

So instead, he let the sunlight soak into his skin, let the sound of Aika's pencil scratching against the paper anchor him in this moment.

Because someday, sooner than she realized, this place would just be another sketch in her book.

And when that day came, he wondered if she'd remember how warm the sunlight had been.

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End of Chapter 12 / End of Volume 1