On the other side of town, Hina stood quietly outside the brightly-lit glass facade of a small convenience store. The air, still holding the faint humidity of a hot day, was now cooling, carrying the scent of asphalt and blooming night-jasmine.
In her hand, a bottle of chilled peach nectar was slick with condensation, the cold a small, grounding anchor against her palm.
Her mind, however, was anything but cool. It was a turbulent, warm mess—fuzzy and unsettled, not just from the cheap jump-scares of the movie, but from the raw emotional intensity of the entire day.
She leaned against the concrete wall, letting out a slow, quiet breath. Her eyes tracked the sun as it performed its final, dramatic descent, slipping behind the jagged silhouette of the rooftops.
The sky above was bleeding a violent, beautiful palette of molten orange, deep gold, and bruised violet. For a moment, the entire street was bathed in a golden-hour glow, and everything seemed to still—peaceful, yes, but Hina's heart was still hammering a restless rhythm against her ribs.
"Why does a horror movie shake me this much?" she thought, the question a weak cover for the truth.
"Or is it just… today?
The confrontation, the apology, the relief… it's all too much."
A soft, familiar crunch of sneakers on loose gravel broke the silence.
Hina knew those footsteps before she even looked up. Ren.
He appeared from around the corner, his figure framed against the sun-drenched road.
He spotted her near the roadside bench, her silhouette sharp against the intense light, the chilled bottle clutched in her hand. For a second, he simply halted, watching her.
He saw the way the last rays of the sun caught the edges of her hair, turning the strands into copper wire, and how her gaze was lifted, adrift in the immense sky—like she was actively searching for a vital piece of herself she hadn't yet managed to retrieve.
"Hey… you haven't gone home yet?" His voice was low, careful not to startle her fully.
Hina spun, the sudden movement making the cold bottle swing slightly.
A small, genuine smile finally pulled at her lips, easing the tension she hadn't realized she was holding.
"No… I just wanted to enjoy the sunset while sipping this," she confessed, lifting the nectar.
Ren smirked, the easy, familiar gesture making something in her chest loosen. "Wow… poetic. Mind if I walk you home? It's getting dark."
She hesitated, her ingrained instinct for independence kicking in.
"No, it's okay—"
He didn't let her finish. He raised an eyebrow, the expression a perfect blend of teasing and insistence.
"Come on. Don't act tough."
His voice softened. "I know you were scared after that movie, even if you won't admit it.
Let me walk you. I insist."
Caught completely off guard by his tenderness, Hina let out a soft, surprised laugh—a light, musical sound she hadn't heard herself make in months. Her smile became shy, a faint blush warming her cheeks.
"Okay… fine."
They began to walk side by side down the quiet, suburban street. The silence that fell between them wasn't awkward—it was heavy, thick, and pregnant with all the vital, unspoken things they had been holding back for the better part of a year.
The high-pitched, insistent drone of cicadas buzzed from the roadside bushes, and a soft, evening breeze moved through the leaves, whispering secrets they couldn't decipher.
It had been an eternity since they walked together like this.
Every few steps, Hina felt the urge to speak, a dozen apologies and explanations crowding her throat, but the words would dissolve into vapor before she could exhale them.
Ren, too, seemed restless; he kicked a loose stone that skittered loudly across the pavement, and Hina caught herself tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear for the fifth time since they started walking.
Finally, she broke. She let out a small, shaky exhale that sounded more like a sigh of defeat.
"Ren… I know I've already said this, but… I'm really sorry. For everything back then."
The words were rushed, desperate to escape.
He slowed down a little, his hands stuffing themselves deep into his trouser pockets, his posture turning inward. He was no longer looking at her, but at the ground.
"I mean… you were in a relationship, Hina. I didn't want to butt into your life," he said, his voice flat, honest, and painfully devoid of anger.
"I tried to respect your choice… even when it felt like it was tearing me up."
He finally glanced at her, and the intensity in his eyes made her own vision blur.
"But… I'm glad you came back. That you apologized. That you finally walked away from something toxic," he continued. "Seriously… leaving him behind? That was probably the strongest thing you've done in years."
Hina looked down immediately, biting her lip hard to stop the sudden, intense stinging behind her eyes. Her grip on the cold bottle tightened until her knuckles were white.
"I just… I hate myself for not realizing it sooner," she said, her voice trembling, close to breaking. "For not listening when you— when everyone—"
"Hey," Ren cut in gently, his voice firming slightly. He nudged her arm lightly with his elbow, a small, comforting gesture. "Don't keep blaming yourself. The past is a ghost, Hina. It only haunts you if you let it. What matters is now."
He smiled softly then, eyes warm and completely present.
"And right now, I'm just… really happy. Things feel like they're slowly getting back to what they were. Maybe not exactly the same—but something real."
He paused, then added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper that was just for her: "Forget the guy you met. He's not worth the space in your heart. He's one chapter—not your whole story. I know it's not easy to move on, but… take your time. No pressure. No pretending."
Hina stopped walking entirely.
Her eyes shimmered, not with the sharp, acidic burn of pain, but with the overwhelming relief of being truly seen, truly validated. All her self-recrimination had just been erased by his simple, quiet acceptance.
"I'm… so lucky to have you," she whispered, her voice cracking, an admission of her profound gratitude.
"Thank you for always being by my side, especially when I was at my lowest."
Ren looked at her, and for a long moment, the world dissolved into the warm, honeyed light of the setting sun. He didn't offer empty words; he just smiled—a real one, a smile full of the care and history of their shared past, but laced with something newly hopeful and deeper than friendship.
They stood in that quiet, golden glow, no longer afraid of the silence, letting the weighty emotion settle between them.
Then, as they reached the familiar gate of her house, Ren gave a small, respectful nod and stepped back, creating a gentle distance.
"Then… see you later, Hina. Get some rest."
She smiled, her heart full, the warmth chasing away the last flicker of fear from the movie.
"Mm… see you later, Ren."
He turned and walked off, his hands once again tucked casually into his pockets, that meaningful smile still lingering on his lips. Hina watched his receding figure until he disappeared around the bend, her chest warm with an unfamiliar, profound sense of peace.
"Maybe things really are changing," she thought, the realization settling over her like a comforting blanket. "And maybe… that's okay."
Later that night, the screen of Hina's phone suddenly lit up. A new group chat had been created.
Ren had named it simply:
" SQUARED SOULS".
The members were just the four of them: Ren, Hina, Daiki, and Akari.
Almost immediately, the chat was flooded with the digital residue of the day: blurry, grinning aquarium selfies, shaky arcade shots, a ridiculous photo of Daiki making a fish-face, and even the awkward, slightly-too-close trio pic.
Digital laughter filled the chat, followed by an explosion of animated emojis and inside jokes that were already being forged into memories. It was the kind of harmless, necessary chaos that meant they were collectively healing, building new foundations over the old scars.
Ren watched the messages scroll by on his own phone, a soft smile curving his lips in the dark of his room.
But even as he typed out a dumb meme reply to Daiki, his eyes snagged, his attention irrevocably fixed on just one message Hina had sent earlier:
> "Thank you for always being by my side."
He locked his phone, the image of the text still imprinted on his retina, and laid back on his pillow, letting that deep, quiet warmth settle through his body.
The final message of the night appeared briefly on the screen's notification bar:
"Oyasumi."
The long, eventful day may have ended…
But something new, something real, had unquestionably begun.
QUIET COLLISIONS
SHE DIDN'T NEED TO SPEAK — BECAUSE SOMEHOW, HER GAZE ALREADY HAD HIS FULL ATTENTION.