The soft echoes of Riku's piano faded into silence, yet the lingering melody stayed with Aika as they left the music room together. The school hallways were nearly empty now, the last traces of daylight stretching through the windows.
Riku walked beside her, his usual confident stride seeming just a little slower, a little more cautious. It wasn't obvious—anyone else wouldn't have noticed—but Aika did. She noticed everything about him now.
She bit her lip, debating whether to say something. Should she ask if he was feeling okay? If he needed to rest? Or would that just make him retreat again?
Before she could decide, Riku suddenly spoke.
"Hey, Aika."
She looked up at him. "Yeah?"
He smiled slightly, but there was something unreadable in his expression. "Thanks… for earlier."
Aika blinked. "Earlier?"
"In the music room. For listening. For making me play." He looked ahead as they walked. "Sometimes, I get stuck in my own thoughts. You pull me out of them."
Aika felt a warmth spread through her chest, but at the same time, something about his words made her uneasy. As if he were preparing for something—something he hadn't told her yet.
She shoved her hands into her pockets. "You don't have to thank me. That's what friends are for."
Riku glanced at her, his gaze lingering for a moment before he nodded. "Yeah. Friends."
Aika frowned at the way he repeated the word, but before she could press further, they reached the school gate.
"Are you heading home?" Riku asked.
Aika hesitated. "Not yet. I was thinking of stopping by the art store. I ran out of some supplies."
"Want company?"
She studied him. He looked tired, but at the same time, there was something in his expression—like he wanted to stay with her just a little longer.
She sighed. "Fine. But if you collapse in the middle of the store, I'm leaving you there."
Riku laughed. "Brutal."
The art store was quiet, the scent of fresh paper and paint filling the air. Aika wandered through the aisles, scanning the shelves for what she needed. Riku followed her, his hands tucked into his pockets, watching her pick out brushes and sketchbooks.
After a while, he picked up a sketchbook and flipped through the pages. "I think I need a new one."
Aika glanced at him. "You already filled up the last one?"
Riku scratched his cheek sheepishly. "Not really… but I think I made too many mistakes in that one."
Aika sighed, crossing her arms. "You're not supposed to throw away your mistakes. That's how you improve."
"I know, but…" He hesitated. "It's frustrating when I can't get things right."
Aika softened. She had seen his sketches—hesitant lines, uneven shapes, but undeniable effort. He wasn't naturally gifted at drawing, but he was trying. And that mattered more than anything.
She took the sketchbook from his hands and placed it back on the shelf. "Keep using your old one. If you start over every time you mess up, you'll never see how much you've improved."
Riku stared at her for a moment before sighing in defeat. "Alright, alright. You win."
Aika smirked. "I always do."
As they moved toward the register, Aika watched him out of the corner of her eye. He looked… happy. Normal. Like the Riku she had always known.
But the memory of his words from earlier lingered in the back of her mind.
I don't know how long 'normal' will last.
Aika tightened her grip on her sketchbook.
If normal wouldn't last, then she would make the most of it while she could.