"I'm not following you," Celeste said casually, twirling the red umbrella over her shoulder.
Miki raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say you were."
"But you were thinking it."
They walked side by side down the park path. Their shadows stretched behind them — one slightly longer, one a little too still.
"I was thinking you don't even like daylight," Miki said.
Celeste's smile curled like mist. "I don't. But I like the way you look in it."
Miki stopped.
Celeste stopped too, just a step ahead.
There was a pause.
"…That was a line," Miki said.
"Yes," Celeste admitted. "But I meant it."
They reached the edge of the park. Miki turned toward the train station.
Celeste, without asking, matched her step.
"You don't have to walk me home," Miki said.
"I know."
Miki glanced at her. "Then why are you?"
Celeste was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Because I want to."
There was something soft about the way she said it. Unpolished. Not like her usual teasing confidence. Just… real.
And it caught Miki off guard.
They walked through a quieter street, old trees lining the sidewalk. The sun was setting now, slanting gold light between buildings.
Miki held her bag tight.
Celeste noticed.
"You're tense," she said.
"I'm cautious."
"Of me?"
Miki didn't answer.
So Celeste added, a little quieter, "That's fair."
Halfway down the block, a breeze picked up. Miki's hair whipped into her face.
Without thinking, Celeste reached out — gently brushing it behind her ear.
Miki froze.
The fingers lingered for a second too long. Cold. Careful.
"…You shouldn't do that," Miki said.
Celeste's voice lowered. "Why not?"
"Because you're trying to make me forget who you are."
Celeste smiled, but there was something sad at the edges of it.
"I'm trying to remind you I'm still… someone."
They reached Miki's apartment complex — a modest building with ivy on the side and cracked tiles on the steps.
Miki paused in front of the gate.
Celeste stopped with her.
"Are you going to hover outside like a stray cat?" Miki asked.
Celeste tilted her head. "Would that work?"
"…No."
Celeste stepped back, just slightly.
"Goodnight, Miki."
Miki turned toward the gate.
But just before she stepped inside, she looked back.
"You didn't drink your coffee," she said.
Celeste raised the cup still in her hand. "It's not about the drink."
Miki's gaze lingered for half a second.
Then she disappeared inside.
Alone on the sidewalk, Celeste stared at the gate.
She whispered softly to herself.
"It's not a date… but it's a beginning."