Amidst the newness of university life and the challenges of long-distance, the prospect of returning to our hometown for short breaks felt like a comforting return to the familiar. It was a chance to see our families, reconnect with our high school friends (Kenji and Aiko!), and most importantly, spend physical time together in the place where our story began.
The first major break came during the university's mid-semester holiday. The excitement of going home was immense, amplified by the anticipation of seeing Sakura in person again, not just on a screen.
Planning our time in hometown was almost as detailed as planning our university schedules. We wanted to make the most of every moment. Seeing families, catching up with friends, revisiting our old haunts – and just being together without the limitations of schedules and miles.
Arriving back in my hometown felt like stepping back in time. The familiar streets, the local shops, even the air felt comforting. Seeing my family, being back in my own room, was a relief after months in a small dorm.
And then, seeing Sakura. Meeting her at our usual spot near the station felt like the most natural thing in the world. The awkwardness of the first university visit melted away, replaced by the easy familiarity of years of shared history.
"You're back," I said, smiling, pulling her into a hug.
"I'm back, Hiroshi-kun," she murmured into my shoulder. It was a longer hug than usual, filled with the accumulation of weeks of missing each other.
We spent the break seeing our friends. Kenji was as boisterous and supportive as ever, eager to hear all about our university lives (and perhaps subtly assess if the long-distance was actually working). Aiko was quietly happy to see us together, her gentle smiles conveying her support.
Revisiting our old haunts – the clubroom (now managed by the younger students, a strange mix of familiar and new), the rooftop, the park – felt nostalgic. These places held the echoes of our high school selves, the people we were before the complexities of long distance.
But the visits home weren't just about nostalgia; they were about reconnecting in person, rebuilding the physical intimacy that was difficult to maintain across miles. Holding hands, walking side-by-side, sharing meals at our favorite local spots – these simple acts felt incredibly significant after months of digital connection.
We talked about our university experiences, sharing stories, complaints, and triumphs in person. It was easier to understand each other's struggles, to offer comfort and support, when we were physically present.
The breaks in our university schedules, the opportunities to return home, became crucial milestones in our long-distance relationship. They were moments of physical reunion, a chance to recharge our connection and remind ourselves of what we were fighting for. Leaving again, saying goodbye at the station at the end of the break, was always difficult, a fresh wave of sadness as the distance became real again.
But the memories of the time spent together, the reinforced connection, and the knowledge that the next break would bring another chance to be together, were the fuel that powered us through the intervening months. The return of the familiar, the visits home, weren't just breaks from university; they were vital chapters in our long-distance love story, reminding us that no matter how far our new paths took us, our roots, and the person who shared them, were always worth returning to.