The air outside was soft that day — sunlight filtering through pale leaves, painting quiet shapes across the classroom floor. It was one of those afternoons that didn't really feel like anything was happening, yet somehow, that calm carried a warmth all its own.
Haruto leaned back in his seat, eyes half on the open window, half on the gentle rustle of pages. The air smelled faintly of summer — chalk dust, green leaves, and the faint trace of someone's lunch bread.
Aoi sat across the room with two classmates, discussing the art club's next theme. Her voice floated faintly over the low hum of conversation.
> "Maybe something lighter this time," she said. "Something that feels like… breathing."
Her words drew a small smile from Haruto. She always phrased things that way — like emotions were colors she could paint into sentences.
He didn't say much the rest of the class, but his pencil tapped softly against the desk. When the bell rang, he looked up and found Aoi waving.
"Hey," she called. "Heading out?"
He nodded. "Probably. You?"
Aoi closed her sketchbook. "Not yet. I promised to help Yuki sort through the new brushes the club ordered."
Haruto paused. "Need a hand?"
She tilted her head, half-smiling. "You're volunteering now?"
"Maybe I'm learning."
Aoi laughed — soft, surprised. "In that case, sure."
---
Art Room — Late Afternoon
The light was golden, brushing against unfinished canvases and empty jars. Haruto moved carefully, setting brushes in order while Aoi dusted off a shelf.
Neither spoke much at first. But the silence wasn't awkward anymore — just quiet, like the hum of a song they both somehow knew.
Aoi glanced at him after a while. "You've been… calmer lately," she said gently.
"Calmer?"
"Yeah," she smiled. "Before, you used to look like you were trying to outrun your own thoughts."
Haruto chuckled faintly. "And now?"
"Now you look like you're… walking with them instead."
He looked at her, caught off guard. It wasn't something he could easily respond to — but the warmth in her tone made the words settle somewhere deep.
> Maybe she's right, he thought. Maybe slowing down isn't so bad.
They finished sorting the brushes just as the sun dipped lower. The light caught on Aoi's hair, strands glowing softly.
"Thanks," she said, stretching. "It's easier when you're around."
"Because I'm quiet?"
"Because you stay," she said simply.
He blinked — and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then Aoi smiled again, brushing dust from her sleeves.
> He's changing, she thought. Not into someone new, but into himself — just a little braver, a little warmer.
---
Evening — Haruto's Walk Home
The air had cooled by the time Haruto left school. He walked past the rows of hydrangeas blooming near the gate, their petals soft and full.
He thought about Aoi's words — about staying.
Once, he used to think people only stayed because they had nowhere else to go. But maybe she was teaching him that staying could mean something else entirely — a choice, quiet and deliberate.
He smiled faintly, adjusting his bag strap. The sky was streaked with lavender and gold.
> "Because you stay," she'd said.
And maybe, he realized, that was enough reason to keep walking forward.