The power blinked once, twice, then returned in a dim wash of amber and gold.
Soft music still played from the corner of the room — a slow, lingering piano melody that felt almost fragile in its beauty.
Haruto stood close. The faint reflection of the two of them shimmered in the glass wall — shadows cast against a world soaked in rain.
His whisper brushed against her ear, low, breathless.
"Just one day. Please."
Yui froze, eyes flicking up to meet his. His expression wasn't playful or cruel anymore; it was raw, threaded with something that almost looked like despair.
Her chest tightened. "What do you mean—?"
But he didn't answer. Instead, his hand reached for hers, fingers hesitating before curling around them. His touch was trembling — not from cold, but something deeper.
"Dance with me," he said.
The words shouldn't have sounded like a plea, but they did.
Yui tried to step back. "Haruto, this isn't—"
But he gently pulled her closer, guiding her hand up against his shoulder, his own settling at her waist. The music seemed to swell in perfect sync, the rhythm slow and hauntingly tender.
At first, she resisted — her body stiff, her gaze darting away. But as the steps fell into rhythm, her resistance began to melt, almost against her will.
Their movements were slow, deliberate — a dance of silence and unsaid things.
Haruto's hand pressed lightly on her back, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of her dress. Yui's breath hitched each time his thumb brushed against her spine.
Outside, the rain cascaded harder, streaking the glass walls like liquid silver.
Their reflections swayed together — two broken souls bound by something neither dared name.
Haruto's eyes never left her face. There was no arrogance now, no mask — just a desperate softness, the kind that only appears when a heart breaks quietly.
"You looked stunning," he murmured, his voice faint. "Earlier, now, and even every day."
Yui's lips parted, and the words caught in her throat. "I'm not the one to fall for such lines. Try it on your girlfriend, Yuki."
His hand tightened at her waist, pulling her slightly closer. Their foreheads brushed, breath mingling.
The world outside the glass disappeared — there was only warmth and the muted hum of rain.
The song neared its end.
As the last note lingered in the air, Haruto's fingers trailed up her neck, pausing at her jawline, his thumb tracing the corner of her lips.
Yui's breath trembled.
"Haruto…" she whispered.
And then —he kissed her.
It wasn't sudden. It was slow, deliberate — like something that had been waiting to happen for far too long.
Her hands clenched his shirt instinctively, his warmth pressing into her as the rain outside thundered harder.
His lips were rough, searching, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he stopped.
Yui felt her heartbeat stutter, her chest tighten — and for a moment, she didn't resist. Her fingers slid up to his shoulders, clutching him as the kiss deepened, stealing breath, reason, everything.
The air grew heavy, charged with heat and rain and emotion.
She didn't know who moved first — maybe him, maybe her — but when their lips finally broke apart, her breath came in short, uneven gasps.
Her lips felt cold.
Almost numb.
Then realization crashed in.
She shoved him back with both hands, stumbling a step away. Her voice trembled between anger and heartbreak.
"Done playing with my heart now?"
Haruto blinked — his chest rising and falling, lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but couldn't find the words.
Yui didn't wait.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she turned and stormed toward the door. Her heels struck the marble floor like echoes of fury.
She flung the door open and stepped out — into the rain.
The night swallowed her immediately.
The rain soaked her hair, her dress clinging to her skin, yet she didn't stop. She walked fast, almost running, her heart pounding too loudly in her chest to think straight.
Under the streetlights, she looked ethereal — a drenched angel escaping a storm she didn't understand.
Taxis rushed past, spraying water on the pavement, until one finally stopped.
She climbed in, hugging her arms to herself. Her reflection in the car window looked unfamiliar — wild eyes, flushed cheeks, lips tinged faint blue.
Her fingertips rose to them unconsciously.
That kiss — it wasn't just warmth. It was chaos.
Her heart fluttered violently in her chest, a rhythm she couldn't calm.
She whispered under her breath, "What are you doing to me, Haruto…"
The driver said nothing, only glanced at her through the mirror once before turning back to the rain-soaked road.
By the time she reached her apartment, the rain had softened to a drizzle.
She stepped out, her dress clinging, shoes squelching against the wet pavement. The world smelled like wet earth and night jasmine.
Inside, the faint yellow glow of the street lights welcomed her. She walked to the small park where the old wooden swing hung.
Sitting down, she exhaled — long, shaky, heavy. The wind lifted a few strands of her damp hair, brushing them across her face.
Her fingers moved to her lips again.
They still tingled.
"Boom… boom…" she murmured softly, pressing her palm over her chest, trying to calm her heartbeat.
The swing creaked gently beneath her.
For a moment, it was silent — just the rain and the whisper of the wind.
Then—
A soft voice behind her.
"Yui-neesan!"
She turned. Mei was standing behind her, her umbrella dripping, a huge grin on her face.
"Mei-chan?" Yui stood up quickly, smiling despite herself. "What are you doing out this late?"
Mei twirled, her little boots splashing a puddle. "I came to show you something!"
She held the edge of her dress, spinning — it was the exact same dress Yui was wearing, the same design, same color, same delicate shimmer under the light.
Yui froze. "Wait— That's…"
Mei beamed. "A gift! It came today! The note said, 'For the angel with the sweetest smile.'" She giggled. "I love it! We have the same dresses, Yui-neesan!"
Yui's blood ran cold.
Her mind scrambled for words. "…Mei, who sent it?"
Mei tilted her head, as if thinking. Then she said innocently, "Haruto-ojisan."
The world seemed to tilt for a moment.
Yui's throat went dry. "Haruto…?"
Mei giggled and pressed a finger to her lips.
"Shhh… don't tell anyone. Or he'll go away again."
Yui stared — her breath caught between disbelief and dread.
Mei just smiled brightly, completely unaware of the turmoil swirling in Yui's chest. "I'll wait for you, okay? For the bedtime story! You promised!"
She waved her small hand, then up the stairs, humming softly to herself.
Yui watched her disappear around the corner.
The night felt suddenly colder. She walked inside her apartment.
She turned back toward the dark window, her reflection ghosted against the rain-smeared glass. Her hand rose slowly, pressing against her heart.
"Will you stop using your mind, heart?" she whispered.
But her chest answered back with the same traitorous rhythm — loud, uneven, wild.
Outside, thunder rolled again — soft, distant, but certain.
And Yui knew that whatever game Haruto was playing…
Yui stared at her own reflection — the faint bruise of a kiss still on her lips — as the storm outside began again.
The rain whispered like a secret she wasn't ready to hear.