Chapter Twelve: Where We Begin Again

The sound of morning broke gently—birdsong mixed with the low hum of wind passing through half-open dorm windows. It should've felt ordinary. But for Takara Minami, nothing felt ordinary anymore.

He lay in bed a little longer than usual, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, remembering the feel of Kayo's hand in his own.

No kiss. No declarations. But there was something real in that silence between them last night.

Not just comfort.

Something blooming.

He finally rolled over, curious to see if Kayo was awake—and met a pair of quiet gray eyes staring right back at him.

Takara blinked. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Not long," Kayo said, voice soft. "You looked… peaceful."

Takara flushed and pulled the blanket up over his nose. "Well, that peace is officially over."

Kayo let out a small chuckle and sat up, stretching. "You sleep like a starfish."

"Why do you always insult me right after saying something sweet? Is it some twisted emotional balance thing?"

Kayo rubbed his neck, a faint smile pulling at his lips. "Probably."

Takara peeked out from the blanket, grinning. "Well, balance this—breakfast is on me today. I'm feeling generous."

"Because you feel guilty for snoring."

"I do not snore!"

"You absolutely do."

"I feel betrayed."

"You'll live."

The dining hall was bustling as usual. The clatter of trays and chatter of weekend plans in motion surrounded them. They'd found their unspoken rhythm—grabbing food, side by side, and weaving through the crowd with almost choreographed ease. Like two pieces of a routine they'd never practiced but always known.

They sat in their usual spot near the far window. Takara nursed a bowl of rice and miso soup. Kayo stuck to toast and tea.

"So," Takara began, "are we… something now?"

Kayo didn't look surprised by the question. He was quiet for a moment, slicing his toast carefully before answering. "I don't know what label you want. I just know I want this to continue."

Takara beamed. "That was the most romantic way you could've said 'I'm emotionally unavailable, but still into you.'"

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

Kayo met his eyes then. "I'm not unavailable. Just cautious. There's a difference."

Takara sobered slightly. "Because of your past?"

Kayo gave a small nod. "Yeah. There were… expectations. From my parents. About who I should be. How I should act. How emotions made me 'weak.'"

Takara's expression softened. "You're not weak, Kayo. If anything, you're stronger than most people I know."

Kayo glanced out the window. "I used to think being alone was easier. That no one could let you down if you didn't let them close."

"And now?"

"Now I think… you might be worth the risk."

Takara's heart did a somersault. "You're getting too good at saying these things. I'm going to start falling for you all over again."

Kayo gave him a side glance. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

Their afternoon was quiet. They studied at the library, side by side, the occasional tap of a pencil or clearing of a throat the only break in the silence.

It felt normal. Domestic, even.

Takara would never admit it aloud, but the steady presence of Kayo beside him—shoulders just close enough to brush if he shifted—was better than any caffeine boost.

Around four, the sky outside darkened with incoming rain. Again.

"Rain's coming," Takara murmured, glancing at the window.

Kayo closed his notebook. "We should head back."

As they stepped into the downpour, Takara paused under the overhang. "Wait. We'll get soaked."

Kayo reached into his bag and pulled out a folded umbrella. "You underestimate me."

Takara raised his eyebrows. "You carry an umbrella?"

Kayo shrugged, opening it. "I'm meticulous, remember?"

They walked close, pressed together under the narrow canopy. Their shoulders touched constantly, and the soft patter of rain around them made the world feel distant—like they'd been tucked into a secret pocket of time.

Takara dared a glance up at Kayo. His face was serene, his eyes focused ahead, but there was something softer about him. More open.

"It's weird," Takara said.

"What is?"

"I used to think you hated me."

"I did."

Takara gasped. "Kayo!"

Kayo smirked. "Only at first. You were loud. Annoying. Chaotic."

"And now?"

"I still think all those things. But now they're part of what I like."

Takara looked mock-wounded. "You really know how to compliment a guy."

Kayo's hand brushed his. A quick touch, barely there.

But it lingered.

"I'm trying," he said.

Takara smiled.

"That's more than enough."

Back at the dorm, they changed into dry clothes. The room was quiet except for the soft drumming of rain against the window.

Takara pulled out a sketchbook and flopped onto his bed. Kayo returned to his desk, reading, his headphones slung around his neck.

It wasn't silence anymore. Not really. It was comfort.

Takara looked up after a while. "I think I want to draw you."

Kayo blinked. "Me?"

"Yeah. Your expressions. Your posture. The way you look at books like they might bite you."

Kayo tilted his head. "You'd put that in a sketch?"

"Only the most flattering angles," Takara teased.

Kayo hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

Takara grinned and grabbed a fresh pencil. "Sit still and don't scowl."

"I'm not scowling."

"Yet."

He didn't finish the drawing that night.

Not because he got distracted—but because he wanted to take his time. Every line he made felt like something delicate and important.

Like Kayo.

Like this fragile new thing between them.

By the time the rain stopped and the moon peeked through the clouds, they were brushing their teeth in tandem, side by side, Takara humming softly, Kayo occasionally glancing at him through the mirror.

As they crawled into their beds, a gentle peace settled between them.

Lights off. Blanket pulled up. Breath steady.

"Takara," Kayo said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I think… I'm starting to feel safe here."

Takara's voice was softer than it had been all day.

"Me too."