We stayed in the music room that night.
Didn't sleep. Just listened.
The ceiling groaned every time the wind passed. The stars outside flickered like they were shivering. And between us, there was only the rustle of breath — hers, mine, the world's.
At some point, I whispered, "I thought I'd go crazy being alone."
Rei turned her head toward me.
"Me too."
It didn't feel like much. But it was.
Like pulling a splinter out and realizing it had been buried deeper than you thought.
---
The next morning, I offered to walk her back — wherever "back" was.
She shook her head.
"There's no back for me. Just forward."
And then she looked at me, really looked.
Her pink hair caught the morning light like the petals of those sakura trees I used to dream about. Her eyes were soft. Not fragile — just… open.
"You don't have to come with me," she said. "But I'd like it if you did."
I didn't answer right away. My throat felt tight, like I'd swallowed something sharp.
"I don't want to lose someone again," I said finally. "Even if I only just found you."
Rei blinked.
Then — so gently I almost didn't notice — she reached out and touched my hand.
Her fingers were cold.
But I didn't let go.
---
We left the school that morning.
Walked through roads cracked with roots and stories. Passed rusted-out cars and windows that reflected only clouds.
She hummed again. The same tune from last night.
This time, I joined in.
Two broken voices in a world that no longer sang.
But somehow… it sounded whole.
---
That evening, as we rested beneath a shattered sign that once read Welcome Home, I asked her, "Why me?"
She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"Why stay? Why talk to me? I'm not… useful. I can't fight, I can't fix anything."
"You listened," she said simply.
"And you didn't run."
She leaned her head on my shoulder then. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I think that matters more than you know."
---
I didn't say anything after that.
But in my chest, something bloomed.
Quiet and pink.
Like the first flower after winter.