Life didn't pause just because something frightening had happened.
That was the strangest part, Haru thought, sitting in the lecture hall two days later with his chin propped on his hand, eyes fixed on the whiteboard without really seeing it. The fire alarm, the smoke, the way Yuri's arm had locked around him like a lifeline—it all felt distant now, like something that had happened in a different version of his life. Classes resumed. Schedules stayed the same. Professors still complained about deadlines. Students still rushed through hallways with headphones in and coffee cups clutched tight.
The world, apparently, had decided to keep going.
Haru was better. Mostly. The hangover had faded quickly, replaced by a lingering tiredness that clung to him like a second layer of skin. He moved slower now, more careful, and Yuri noticed everything—how Haru sat down before lectures instead of standing, how he leaned more often against walls or railings, how he didn't complain but went quiet when things overwhelmed him.
Yuri didn't say much about it.
He just stayed close.
That morning's lecture was painfully ordinary. Something about theoretical frameworks, something about case studies. Riku sat two rows ahead, half-focused, Jihoon beside him with neat notes and a highlighter uncapped. Behind Haru and Yuri, Yuna whispered commentary under her breath while Mika typed furiously on her laptop, occasionally smiling at her phone when a notification popped up.
Sowoon and Sophia shared earbuds, heads leaned together, perfectly at ease.
It struck Haru, suddenly, how lucky they all were—to still be here, to still be together, to be bored in a lecture hall instead of thinking about what could've gone wrong.
When the professor finally dismissed them, the class erupted into the usual chaos of movement and chatter. Haru stretched carefully, rolling his shoulders, and Yuri stood immediately, gathering both of their bags without thinking.
"You good?" Yuri asked quietly.
Haru nodded. "Yeah. Just tired."
Yuri squeezed his hand once before letting go.
They regrouped outside the building, sunlight cutting through the crisp air. Winter was settling in properly now—the kind that didn't just nip at your skin but lingered, promising colder days ahead. Yuna shoved her hands into her jacket sleeves dramatically.
"I hate the cold," she announced.
"You say that every year," Riku replied.
"And every year I'm right."
They laughed, walking together toward their next class, when a notice board near the main quad caught Sophia's attention. She slowed, eyes scanning the bold lettering plastered across the page.
"Oh," she said. "Guys."
Everyone paused.
"What?" Sowoon asked.
Sophia stepped closer, reading aloud. "Mandatory two-day ski field trip. All first-years. Transport, accommodation, equipment provided."
There was a beat.
Then—
"A SKI TRIP?" Haru said, suddenly wide awake.
Yuna gasped. "You're kidding."
Riku grinned. "This just got interesting."
Jihoon frowned slightly. "I've never skied."
"Neither have I," Mika admitted.
Sophia smiled. "That's the point."
By the end of the day, it was official. Forms signed. Schedules distributed. Groans and excitement mixed in equal measure as everyone realized they were about to be trapped in snowy mountains with their entire class for two days straight.
Haru buzzed with energy he hadn't felt since before the fire. Something about the trip—about doing something new, something physical, something different—lit a spark in him. Yuri noticed the way Haru talked faster, smiled more, leaned forward when they discussed it over dinner.
"You're excited," Yuri said.
Haru nodded enthusiastically. "I've never been on a ski trip before."
Yuri smiled. "Me neither."
The bus ride left early the next morning.
Too early.
Haru dozed with his forehead against the cold window, breath fogging the glass as the city slowly gave way to long stretches of road and snow-dusted trees. Yuri sat beside him, arm around his shoulders, letting him sleep. Across the aisle, Riku and Jihoon shared earbuds again, quietly arguing over music choices. Yuna leaned over the seat to talk to Mika, who was nervously scrolling through pictures of ski outfits.
"I'm going to fall," Mika said.
"Everyone falls," Yuna replied. "That's the bonding experience."
Sophia snapped pictures of the scenery while Sowoon pointed things out enthusiastically, narrating the trip like a documentary.
By the time they arrived, the air was sharper, colder, cleaner. Snow stretched out across the landscape in soft, blinding white, mountains looming in the distance like something unreal. The lodge was large and wooden, smoke curling from its chimneys, windows glowing warmly against the cold.
Haru stepped off the bus and just stared.
"It's so… quiet," he said.
Yuri inhaled deeply. "Yeah."
They were herded inside to collect gear—helmets, boots, skis far heavier than Haru expected. The room buzzed with nervous laughter as students struggled to figure out sizes and buckles.
"I look ridiculous," Yuna complained, tugging at her helmet.
Riku laughed. "You look like a bobblehead."
Jihoon adjusted his goggles carefully. "Are these supposed to feel this tight?"
Sowoon nearly tripped over his own boots, Sophia grabbing his arm just in time. Mika stood stiffly, clearly overwhelmed but trying to stay calm.
Haru fumbled with his gloves, laughing softly at himself. "I can't feel my fingers."
Yuri helped him fasten the straps, movements careful and practiced even though he was just as new to this. "Don't rush."
Outside, instructors gathered them into groups, explaining the basics. The snow crunched underfoot as Haru shuffled into position, skis feeling awkward and uncooperative beneath him. He wobbled immediately, arms flailing slightly.
Yuri steadied him without a word.
The first lesson was… humbling.
Haru fell. A lot.
Not dramatically—just enough to leave him laughing breathlessly in the snow, cheeks flushed, hair dusted white. Yuri fell too, though he recovered quicker, offering a hand every time.
"You okay?" Yuri asked, again and again.
Haru nodded each time. "Yeah. This is actually kind of fun."
Riku wiped out spectacularly, sliding sideways until he collided gently with Jihoon, who shrieked in surprise before laughing so hard he fell too. Yuna sat down deliberately at one point, declaring she was "strategically resting." Mika clung to her instructor like a lifeline, eyes wide but determined.
By late afternoon, everyone was exhausted, muscles aching in places they didn't know existed. They turned in their gear and stumbled back to the lodge, faces pink, hair damp, spirits strangely high.
Hot showers and warm clothes never felt so good.
Dinner was loud and cozy, long tables filled with tired students and steaming plates of food. Haru ate more than usual, hunger sharp after the cold and exertion. He laughed easily, trading stories about who fell the worst, who surprised everyone by being good at it.
Later, they gathered in the common area, blankets piled up, hot drinks in hand. Outside, snow continued to fall softly, tapping against the windows.
Haru sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against Yuri's legs. He felt grounded, present in a way he hadn't since before the fire. The day had been full—too full for his mind to wander into darker places.
Yuri rested a hand on Haru's shoulder absentmindedly, thumb tracing slow circles.
"You tired?" Yuri asked quietly.
Haru nodded, smiling. "In a good way."
As the night wound down, they eventually drifted off to their assigned rooms. Haru lay in bed, muscles sore, eyes heavy, listening to the muffled sounds of laughter and footsteps in the hallway.
Tomorrow would be another full day.
For now, wrapped in warmth and quiet, surrounded by people who made the world feel manageable, Haru let himself rest—trusting that it was okay to keep moving forward.