Yuki left on a Tuesday.
She didn't tell anyone until the day before.
Leo found out because she slipped a folded note into his locker. A real one—ink smudged in the corner, handwriting as messy as her laugh.
> Going home for a while. Don't worry, I'm not dead. I'll bring you weird snacks if I survive.
Y
No explanation. No grand farewell. Just like her.
But Leo knew better now. He knew how much silence could weigh.
---
He caught her in the dorm hallway that night, dragging a duffel bag across the linoleum floor.
"You're really going?" he asked.
She nodded, brushing pink-dyed hair out of her eyes. "Yeah. Just for a few days. Maybe a week."
"You want company to the station?"
She smiled. "I was hoping you'd ask."
---
The next morning was misty, the sky still unsure whether it wanted to rain.
Leo met her outside the main gate, coffee in hand. She wore her usual oversized hoodie and headphones around her neck. But her eyes were quieter than usual.
"I got your ticket," Leo said, handing her a small envelope.
"Dude," she said. "I told you I had it."
"You always say that. But then you lose your wallet or forget the date."
"True." She grinned, but it didn't reach her eyes.
The walk to the train station was slow. Not physically, but emotionally. Words came in bits and pieces—memories, jokes, awkward silences that didn't feel so awkward anymore.
At the platform, she paused before stepping through the gate.
"I'm scared," she said, not looking at him.
Leo exhaled. "You're allowed to be."
She turned. Her eyes were wet but defiant.
"I don't know what I'll say. What if I hate him again the moment I see him?"
"Then you do," Leo replied. "And then you leave. You don't owe him healing."
"But what if I want to forgive him?"
"Then try. But on your terms."
She swallowed. Then lunged forward and hugged him.
Tight.
"Don't get replaced while I'm gone," she mumbled into his hoodie.
Leo smiled against her shoulder. "I'll hold your spot in the chaos."
She stepped back. "Thanks. For... not treating me like I'm about to break."
"I never thought you were about to break."
"I was. But I think I'm starting to glue myself back together."
The train horn blew.
She stepped through the gate, waved once, then disappeared down the platform.
---
Later that day, Leo returned to his room and found a small envelope on his desk.
His name was scribbled on it in glitter pen.
He opened it.
Inside was a short note:
> Don't get lonely without me. Or do. I'll use it against you. PS: You're the only person I've ever told about my dad. Don't make me regret it.
Leo smiled.
Then he noticed something else—beneath the note was a folded paper heart.
Inside was a bus ticket stub from the museum they visited together two months ago.
He'd forgotten about it.
She hadn't.
---
Leo made his way out later that evening, raincoat pulled tight. He took the bus to the town's market district and wandered until he found a small boutique Yuki had once dragged them all into. It sold novelty pins, ugly socks, and—most importantly—limited-edition snacks.
He bought one of everything she'd ever raved about.
Back at the dorm, he packed a small box.
Inside: strawberry pocky, sour ume candy, garlic seaweed chips, and a handwritten note that simply read:
> Just in case home tastes like sadness.
He mailed it with express delivery.
No return name. Just one word on the sender line:
Leo.
---
Three days later, he got a text.
Yuki: This is the ugliest care package I've ever seen. Yuki: I love it. Yuki: Also. I cried. So. Thanks. Idiot.
He stared at the messages.
Then typed back:
> You're welcome. Idiot.