Yuki didn't scream.
She stared.
Ren didn't speak.
He just… held out the letter like he was handing her a grocery list.
The ocean crashed behind them like a dramatic soundtrack, and the wind decided now was the time to slap her hair directly into her mouth.
"Glmph—" Yuki choked, untangling strands from her lips with a cough that totally didn't sound like a dying goat.
Smooth. So smooth.
Ren blinked. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she said, eyes watering. "Just inhaled… my bangs."
There was a silence.
Then, a quiet chuckle.
He laughed.
Not loudly. Not obnoxiously. Just softly—like he remembered how. It made something flutter in her chest, which was completely unfair.
She hadn't seen this boy—no, this man—in eight years, and the first thing she does is eat her hair in front of him?
"Um…" She cleared her throat. "Do you… want to come in?"
Ren hesitated, then nodded. "If you're not busy."
"Oh, I'm very busy," she said, suddenly aware she was still wearing one sock and had toothpaste on her sleeve. "Busy being totally unprepared for sudden reappearances of long-lost emotional trauma."
Ren raised a brow. "Right. Should I… go?"
"No. I mean yes. I mean… get in here before I change my mind."
He smiled again, just barely.
---
Inside, things didn't go better.
Yuki, in a panic, decided to cook eggs. Why? She didn't know. It felt like a safe thing to do. People eat eggs. Normal people eat eggs and don't talk about the years of pain and abandonment while the oil's popping like machine gun fire.
But when she cracked the third egg onto the stove and it landed on the floor instead, she gave up.
"Maybe we should just… talk," she said, grabbing a towel and praying the egg wasn't sentient.
Ren was quiet, seated at the kitchen table, watching her with something unreadable in his expression. She sat across from him, wiping her hands.
The silence was heavy.
"Why didn't you ever write back?" she asked quietly.
Ren looked down at the letter in his hand. The one she wrote so long ago.
"I didn't know how to answer," he said. "Back then… I didn't think I deserved to."
Yuki's breath caught.
He looked up at her, eyes suddenly serious. "But I came back because I finally want to try."
Her heart skipped.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang from upstairs.
They both jumped.
Yuki stood. "That sounded like it came from the attic."
Ren frowned. "Is anyone else here?"
"No. Just me." She grabbed the nearest object—a mop—because obviously, that was an effective weapon.
They crept up the stairs, footsteps careful.
Yuki slowly pushed the attic door open.
It creaked.
Inside, the room was dim—sunlight barely filtering through the dusty window.
Everything was still… except for one thing.
A second box.
A box that hadn't been there yesterday.
Ren stepped beside her. "What is that?"
Yuki's voice was barely a whisper.
"…I don't know."
She reached for the lid.
And inside—on top of a stack of letters—was something that made her blood run cold.
A photoraph.
Of her
Sleeping....
To Be Continued…