That night, the air by the lake turned cool, brushing softly against the canvas of tents and rustling the trees overhead. The campfire had been reignited for warmth and comfort, the dancing flames throwing golden reflections on everyone's faces.
Yuki sat cross-legged on a blanket near the fire, her earbuds in, sketchpad open but untouched. Her usual brightness was muted, like a radio tuned just slightly off-frequency. Leo noticed. He always noticed now.
He approached slowly, holding two cans of melon soda.
"Still your favorite?"
Yuki blinked, pulled out an earbud, and glanced up.
"…You remembered."
Leo sat beside her and offered one of the cans. "I'm observant."
She accepted it with a small laugh. "Or you just have selective memory."
They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the embers float upward.
Finally, Yuki broke the stillness. "I saw Aira's sketch."
Leo turned his can in his hands, not surprised. "I think everyone did."
"It was beautiful," Yuki murmured. "And quiet. Like her."
He nodded. "She sees things people miss."
"She sees you," Yuki added, looking sideways at him. "Even when you think no one's looking."
Leo didn't respond immediately. He could hear her voice more clearly now, unfiltered, slightly hesitant.
"I used to think…" she continued, voice lower, "that if I was loud enough, fast enough, funny enough… people would look. That you would look."
Leo's heart tightened. "Yuki—"
"It's not your fault," she said quickly. "I mean—I don't blame you. I just… sometimes I wondered if I was trying too hard to be seen by someone who already had a hundred eyes on him."
Leo set his can down, turning toward her fully.
"You're not trying too hard," he said. "You've never had to try. I always saw you."
Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly.
"I just didn't know how to deal with all the noise in my own head," Leo went on. "And sometimes I pulled away when I should've reached out. But I never stopped seeing you, Yuki."
Yuki looked away quickly, blinking fast. "That's so unfair," she whispered.
"What is?"
She gave him a teary smile. "Saying things like that under this kind of moonlight."
Leo laughed softly. "Sorry. I don't really plan my timing."
"You should."
"I'll work on it."
A breeze passed between them. The fire crackled softly.
Yuki shifted closer, barely brushing his shoulder. "Do you ever think about… what happens when we go back? After this trip?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"I think I want to do better. Speak clearer. Be less afraid of the things I feel."
She tilted her head. "That sounds like a confession."
"Maybe it is."
"…Is this a good time for one?"
He smiled. "You tell me."
She didn't answer right away.
Then she reached out, pinky brushing his. "Then let's just… not say it yet. Not here. Let's leave it hanging a little. Like a song you love, but don't want to end."
Leo nodded. "Okay."
They sat there in silence again, two unopened cans of melon soda between them, and a fire that didn't need words to stay warm.
In the background, Kai watched from a distance, a knowing grin on his face. He gave them their space.
And in her tent, Rin stared up at the canvas ceiling, biting her lip, eyes wide open.