Beach vacations never end loudly.
They fade.
One moment, it's salt in your hair, sand stuck where it shouldn't be, voices calling your name from the water. And the next, you're home, staring at a familiar ceiling, wondering if it all really happened.
That was the kind of quiet we were sitting in now.
Afternoon sunlight spilled through the dining room window, warm and lazy. The clock ticked loudly on the wall, like it was mocking us for not saying anything. The table between us was wide. Too wide.
Saki sat across from me.
Not beside.
Across.
Again.
Two cups of tea sat untouched, steam long gone. My parents were out, something about errands that definitely did not require three hours. Kyosuke had announced he was going to the convenience store "for five minutes."
He'd been gone for twenty.
Which meant this was intentional.
"…So," I said.
Saki jumped slightly. "So."
Silence immediately reclaimed the room.
I cleared my throat. "The vacation was… fun."
"Yes," she said quickly. "Very fun. Extremely fun. Adequately fun."
"…Adequately?"
She winced. "I mean— more than adequate. It was great."
I nodded. Too hard. "Yeah. Great."
Another pause.
This one stretched.
I stared at my tea like it might give me advice. It didn't.
Somewhere in my head, images from the trip replayed anyway. The beach. Her laugh when the water was colder than she expected. Kenta shouting like an idiot. Mei quietly taking photos of seashells. That night. The way she'd fallen asleep against me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My face warmed.
I shook my head. Focus.
"…We're really bad at this," Saki said suddenly.
I looked up. "At what."
"At acting normal," she said, gesturing vaguely between us. "We've known each other for years. And now we can't even sit at the same table without it feeling like a final exam."
"That's because," I said carefully, "this is the hardest subject."
She snorted before she could stop herself. Then froze, hand over her mouth.
"…Sorry."
I laughed. Softly. "Don't apologize for that."
Her shoulders relaxed just a little.
She leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting to the window. "You know… I thought it would feel different."
"Different how?"
"Like," she said slowly, choosing her words, "like the moment we said it out loud, everything would suddenly make sense. Like there'd be fireworks. Or background music. Or at least… confidence."
I nodded. "Instead we got… awkward silence and elevated heart rates."
"And an inability to make eye contact," she added.
"Critical symptom," I agreed.
She glanced at me, smiling faintly. "I never imagined you'd be this bad."
"Hey," I protested. "You're not exactly thriving either."
"That's because," she said, flustered, "you keep looking like you're about to apologize for existing."
"…I do not."
She raised an eyebrow.
"…Okay maybe a little."
We both laughed then. Really laughed. The tension eased, just a fraction.
Saki rested her chin on her hand. "Haruto?"
"Yeah."
"…Are you scared?"
The question hit gently, but it hit.
I didn't answer immediately.
"…Yeah," I admitted. "I am."
"Of me?"
"No," I said quickly. "Of messing it up."
She listened quietly.
"I've had you in my life for so long," I continued. "As… Saki. Just Saki. And that was safe. Comfortable. I knew where I stood."
"And now?"
"Now," I said, exhaling, "I don't want to take a single step wrong. Because losing this would hurt more than I know how to deal with."
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then she stood up.
I stiffened. "Did I say something—"
She walked around the table.
My heart picked up speed immediately.
She stopped in front of me.
"…You know," she said softly, "that's exactly why I was scared too."
She sat down beside me instead of across.
Beside.
Close enough that our arms almost touched.
"I thought," she continued, "that once we became a couple, I'd have to change. Be more careful. Be more… girlfriend-like."
I blinked. "Girlfriend-like?"
"Yeah," she said, embarrassed. "You know. Less me. More… ideal."
I frowned. "I don't want that."
She looked at me. "Really?"
"I like you because you're you," I said. "Not some polished version."
Her eyes softened.
"…Then," she said, voice quieter, "I'll say this honestly."
She took a breath.
"I like you. Not in a dramatic, movie way. In a quiet, everyday way. I like sitting with you. Talking with you. Being awkward with you."
My chest tightened.
"I don't need fireworks," she said. "I just… don't want to lose what we already have."
I swallowed. "You won't."
She smiled. Then, teasingly, "Unless you keep sitting a meter away from me."
"…I'm working on it."
She laughed again, then leaned her shoulder lightly against mine.
I froze.
Then relaxed.
The contact was simple. Warm. Familiar.
"This is nice," she said.
"It is," I agreed.
The clock kept ticking. Outside, a bird chirped. Somewhere far away, a car passed.
Normal life.
"…So," she said after a while, "what now?"
I considered it.
"Now," I said, "we take it slow."
She nodded. "Good."
"We keep being us."
"Even better."
"And," I added, glancing at her, "we stop overthinking every breath."
She grinned. "No promises."
We sat like that, shoulder to shoulder, saying nothing important and everything important at the same time.
Then—
The front door clicked.
Saki jolted upright. "They're back!"
I stood so fast my chair nearly fell over. "Act normal!"
Kyosuke's voice echoed from the hallway. "Why are you shouting like criminals."
"We're not!" we said together.
He peeked into the dining room, eyes flicking between us.
"…Why are you sitting so close."
"Chair shortage," I said.
"Earthquake," Saki said.
Kyosuke stared.
Then smiled slowly.
"…Interesting."
I groaned.
Some things never change.
But as Saki glanced at me, still smiling despite the embarrassment, I realized something important.
Even after the waves had settled.
Even after the vacation ended.
This—
This was just the beginning.
The silence after Kyosuke's "interesting" lasted exactly three seconds.
Then everything collapsed.
"Well," Kyosuke said cheerfully, stepping fully into the dining room and dropping a convenience store bag on the table, "this is new."
"It is not," I said instantly.
Saki nodded. "Very not."
Kyosuke looked between us again.
We were still sitting way too close.
He leaned forward slightly. "Then why does it feel like I just walked into the aftermath of a crime scene?"
"No crime," I said.
"Zero crimes," Saki added.
"Hmm," he hummed. "Because you both look like you were just caught holding hands behind the gym."
"We weren't holding hands," I said.
"We were just sitting," Saki said.
"…Near each other," Kyosuke finished.
I stood up. Bad idea.
Saki stood up too. Worse idea.
Now we were both standing. Too stiff. Too upright. Too guilty.
Kyosuke smiled wider.
"Oh this is delicious."
"You're imagining things," I said.
"Am I?" he asked innocently. "Because last night, you two could barely breathe without malfunctioning."
Saki turned beet red. "You noticed that?!"
"I noticed everything," Kyosuke said proudly. "I am an observer of human weakness."
I pointed at him. "You are a menace."
"Thank you."
He leaned back against the counter. "So. Anything you'd like to tell your beloved older brother?"
"No," I said.
"No," Saki said.
"Yes," Kyosuke said.
We glared at him.
Kyosuke clasped his hands together. "Okay then. I'll guess."
Saki made a strangled noise. "Please don't."
"You're awkward," he continued. "You're avoiding eye contact. You're sitting close but pretending you aren't. You react like you've committed tax fraud when someone enters the room."
"…We're tired," I said weakly.
"And," Kyosuke added, "you two look suspiciously happy."
Silence.
He snapped his fingers. "Ah."
My soul left my body.
"You're dating."
"WE'RE NOT—" I started.
Saki panicked. "I mean— we—"
Kyosuke held up a hand. "Relax. I didn't say anything."
"You just did," I said.
"To myself," he replied. "In my heart."
Saki buried her face in her hands. "I'm going to die."
Kyosuke laughed. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe."
I stared at him. "…Really?"
"Of course," he said. "I only tease what I love."
That did not reassure me.
He suddenly leaned closer to me and whispered, "Also Mom's home in ten minutes."
I choked. "WHAT."
"Yep," he said. "And Dad's with her."
Saki looked like she'd just seen a ghost. "Your parents?!"
"Why do you think I went to the convenience store," Kyosuke said. "To buy popcorn."
"This is bad," I said.
"This is very bad," Saki agreed.
Kyosuke grinned. "This is fantastic."
Panic mode: reactivated.
We scrambled.
"Sit normally," I hissed.
"We were sitting normally," she whispered back.
"No we weren't!"
We repositioned chairs. Too far. Then too close. Then angled weirdly.
Kyosuke watched like it was live entertainment.
"Maybe hold hands," he suggested. "Really sell the 'just friends' vibe."
"GET OUT," I snapped.
He laughed and walked off toward the hallway. "I'll be in my room. Screaming internally."
The front door opened.
Mom's voice floated in. "We're back!"
My heart stopped.
Saki froze.
I whispered, "Act. Normal."
She nodded. Too intensely.
Mom entered the dining room first, bags in hand. She looked between us, then smiled warmly.
"Oh, Saki's here. That's nice."
"Yes," Saki said politely. "I was just… visiting."
Dad followed. "Afternoon."
"Afternoon," we replied in sync.
Mom tilted her head. "…Why are you both standing."
"We like standing," I said.
"It's healthy," Saki added.
Mom squinted.
Then shrugged. "Alright."
I nearly collapsed from relief.
She set the bags down. "I'll make tea. Saki, you'll stay a bit longer?"
Saki nodded. "Yes, thank you."
Mom smiled and left for the kitchen.
The moment she was gone, Saki whispered, "I'm going to explode."
"Hold it together," I whispered back. "We're professionals."
"You almost cried when Kyosuke walked in."
"That was tactical fear."
Dad cleared his throat. "So. Resort was fun?"
"Yes," I said.
"Yes," Saki said.
Dad nodded slowly. "…You both look tired."
"Beach," I said.
"Sun," Saki said.
Dad hummed. "Mhm."
He sat down.
Right across from us.
Too close. Way too close.
Dad stared at me for a long second.
Then at Saki.
Then back at me.
"…You kids are acting weird."
I laughed nervously. "We are?"
"Yes," he said calmly. "But that's fine."
Saki blinked. "It is?"
"Teenagers are weird," he continued. "That's normal."
I almost cried again.
Mom returned with tea, blissfully unaware of the emotional war happening at the table.
They started chatting about errands. Groceries. The weather.
Saki and I sat there like two statues pretending to be humans.
Every accidental glance felt illegal.
Every time our hands nearly touched on the table, both of us flinched.
At one point, Saki reached for her cup.
I reached for mine.
Our fingers brushed.
Electric shock.
We recoiled like we'd been struck by lightning.
Mom paused mid-sentence. "…Did I miss something?"
"No," I said.
"No," Saki said.
Kyosuke shouted from his room, "YES."
"KYOSUKE," I yelled.
Mom sighed. "That boy."
Eventually, Saki stood up. "I should probably go home."
Too fast.
Too abrupt.
Dad raised an eyebrow. "Already?"
"Yes," she said. "Homework."
I stared. "…It's vacation."
She froze.
"…Mental homework," she corrected.
Mom laughed. "Alright. Walk her home, Haruto."
My brain short-circuited.
"Yes," I said. "I mean— sure."
We escaped the house like fugitives.
Outside, the afternoon air felt unreal.
We walked side by side. Quiet.
Then—
Saki burst out laughing.
I blinked. "What."
"That was horrible," she said. "Absolutely horrible."
I laughed too. "I thought your dad knew."
"I thought your mom knew."
"Kyosuke definitely knows."
"Oh he knows," she groaned.
We stopped walking.
She looked at me, still smiling.
"…But," she said softly, "even with all that…"
She hesitated.
"I didn't hate it."
My chest warmed.
"…Me neither."
We stood there awkwardly again.
Then she waved quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Tomorrow," I echoed.
She walked away, then turned back. "Haruto?"
"Yeah?"
"…We'll figure this out. Right?"
I smiled. "Yeah. We will."
She nodded, cheeks pink, and disappeared inside her house.
I stood there for a moment.
Then Kyosuke shouted from our window, "DON'T MESS IT UP."
"I HEARD THAT."
Catastrophic.
Embarrassing.
Ridiculous.
But somehow…
Still worth it.