Chapter Four: The Quiet Between Us
Rain clung to the windows in silver streaks, tracing paths down the glass like soft tears. The steady patter outside the dorm created a bubble of quiet, the kind Takara usually hated.
But tonight, he didn't mind it so much.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, sketchpad balanced on one knee, a pencil moving idly across the page. Kayo was at his desk, posture straight as always, highlighter gliding over textbook lines in perfect strokes.
For once, neither of them spoke. And yet, it didn't feel strained.
It felt… calm.
Until Takara's pencil snapped.
"Ugh—seriously?"
Kayo didn't look up. "You press too hard."
"I draw with passion."
"You draw like you're stabbing the paper."
Takara rolled his eyes and reached for a sharpener. "You're such a buzzkill, you know that?"
"I'm honest."
Takara grinned. "You're lucky you're cute when you're uptight."
Kayo froze. Just slightly.
Takara blinked. Oh. That had come out louder than intended.
Kayo slowly turned. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," Takara said quickly. "I said you're—uh—brute when you're uptight."
Kayo's brow rose. "Brute?"
Takara slapped the sharpener into his palm. "Yep. Big strong brute vibes. Like a grumpy librarian with unresolved childhood trauma."
There was a silence.
Then, unexpectedly, Kayo laughed. It was short, quiet, and entirely real.
Takara looked up in surprise. "Did you just laugh?"
Kayo looked faintly stunned himself. "I think so."
"You're evolving."
"Don't make it weird."
Takara beamed. "Too late."
***********
The next day brought something new—an email from the dorm supervisor announcing a "Roommate Compatibility Survey."
"Due by the weekend," Takara read aloud as he sat at their shared desk. "It says we have to answer questions about how we get along, rank each other on habits, behavior, and…" He squinted. "Emotional communication?"
Kayo looked like someone had handed him a live grenade.
"We're not that dysfunctional," Takara said.
"I don't share emotions."
"You literally just laughed last night."
Kayo opened his laptop. "That was a lapse in judgment."
They filled out the survey separately.
Ten minutes in, Takara started giggling.
"What?" Kayo asked.
"One of the questions is, 'How would you describe your roommate's sleeping habits?' I'm putting 'Sleeps like a haunted statue.'"
Kayo gave him a flat look. "You sleep diagonally and kick the wall."
"I'm passionate in all things."
"You're chaos in pajamas."
Takara snorted.
Despite the teasing, it was… nice.
They were learning how to orbit each other.
************
That night, a thunderstorm rolled in.
Takara sat up in bed as lightning split the sky. He hated storms. Not for the noise—but for the memories they dredged up.
A hospital hallway.
His mother's empty bed.
His father's voicemail: "I can't get there in time."
Takara pulled the blanket over his head. Breathed in. Out. In. Out.
A soft voice cut through the dark.
"Takara?"
He peeked out.
Kayo was sitting up, watching him.
"Are you okay?"
Takara hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Just… storms. Bad association."
Kayo didn't speak for a moment. Then he said quietly, "I used to hide in closets when my parents fought. Storms made it easier to pretend it was just weather."
Takara blinked.
That was the most personal thing Kayo had ever said.
"I'm not good at comfort," Kayo added, tone stiff.
Takara smiled. "You're doing fine."
They stared at each other in the soft flicker of lightning.
Something had shifted again.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
But something was there.