The room had grown quieter, the soft hum of silence hanging between them. Nezumi, still feeling the slight tension from their earlier conversation, shifted slightly on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. The weight of the moment lingered, but it was no longer overwhelming. Kokoro had noticed the change in the air, the shift in Nezumi's energy, and instead of commenting on it directly, she chose to offer something familiar—something simple that could break the silence without the need for more words.
Kokoro's voice was gentle, almost tentative, as she spoke, her tone soft but kind, not wanting to intrude on the space between them.
"Want something to drink?"
Nezumi blinked at the question, a small part of her surprised that Kokoro was trying to ease the atmosphere, but the warmth in her voice was undeniable. It was the kind of offer that felt natural, comforting. Nezumi hesitated for just a moment, then shook her head slightly, offering a faint smile in response.
"No, thanks."
Kokoro nodded, her expression thoughtful for a second. She stood there, as if weighing something in her mind before her eyes suddenly brightened, and a small, teasing glimmer flickered in them. She had an idea, something to shift the mood just a little, to make everything feel more relaxed again.
"Okay, how about something to eat then?" she asked, her voice taking on a slightly more playful tone, as if she was already half-aware that Nezumi would be in need of something sweet after everything that had happened.
Nezumi's stomach let out a quiet growl, betraying her interest in food despite her earlier hesitation. She shifted again on the bed, the soft rustling of the sheets filling the space between them. She gave a small sigh, her lips curling into a small, almost shy smile, her eyes brightening at the thought of something sweet.
"Do you have anything sweet? Like cake or macarons?" Nezumi's voice was light, almost teasing, but her tone carried a softness to it, a slight vulnerability hidden beneath her playful words. She wasn't just asking for food—she was seeking comfort, something familiar, something that could make her feel a bit more at ease.
Kokoro's face lit up at the mention of sweets. It was as if the mention of cake and macarons had sparked a sudden joy in her—an unexpected happiness that softened her features. She tilted her head slightly, as though genuinely surprised by the question, before a mischievous smile spread across her face.
"Something sweet? Let me think…" she paused, as though considering the choices carefully, tapping her chin in mock contemplation. Then, her face brightened. "Oh! I have some cake and chocolate."
Nezumi's eyes widened a little, a spark of excitement flashing in her gaze. The mention of chocolate—rich, sweet, comforting chocolate—was enough to make her stomach flutter with anticipation. Her playful grin returned, and without missing a beat, she dropped back onto the bed, her body dramatically sprawling across the soft sheets.
In a low-pitched, exaggerated voice, she declared with a teasing tone, "Bring them on."
The words were playful, but the slow rhythm of her speech added a layer of intentional drama to the moment. She could feel the slight smile tugging at her lips as she glanced over at Kokoro, her eyes sparkling with lighthearted mischief. For just a second, the heaviness of everything that had happened seemed to lift.
Kokoro, clearly caught up in Nezumi's playful energy, matched her tone instantly. She straightened up, her posture becoming mock-serious as she nodded with a dramatic flair, her voice taking on a teasing, exaggerated edge.
"Yes, sir! Roger that!" she responded, her tone light and playful, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she gave an exaggerated salute.
The atmosphere in the room shifted entirely. The tension was gone, replaced with a warmth that felt comforting, familiar. Kokoro's playful response made Nezumi laugh softly, the sound light and genuine. Kokoro then spun on her heel and rushed out of the room, her footsteps echoing softly as she made her way downstairs to gather the treats.
Nezumi, left alone in the room, let out a long, deep breath, her body sinking further into the soft mattress as she stared up at the ceiling for a moment. The sound of Kokoro's footsteps gradually fading was the only noise in the room. It was quiet again, but it felt different this time—like a kind of calm had settled into the space. Nezumi let her eyes close for a second, her mind still a little cloudy from everything that had happened, but the warmth from the small exchange filled her chest with a soft sense of peace.
The thought of cake and chocolate wasn't just about food—it was the comfort of knowing that, despite the awkwardness or the tension between them, they could still find moments of lightness. Nezumi had always known that Kokoro's warmth had a way of drawing her out of darker places, even in the smallest, most ordinary moments.
She smiled to herself, grateful for her friend, knowing that sometimes, simple things—a silly joke, a sweet treat—could make all the difference.
---
-----
-------
----------
Nezumi laid back on the bed, her eyes slowly closing as she waited for Kokoro to return. But just as the soft hum of silence began to settle over the room, something shifted. It was subtle at first, almost like a fleeting sensation—an uncomfortable weight pressing on the back of her mind.
A presence.
Nezumi's body stiffened. It felt as if someone was watching her, standing just beyond her peripheral vision, waiting for her to notice. The air grew heavier, colder, and she instinctively drew her knees closer to her chest, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.
Her heart began to race, the steady thumping in her chest growing louder. Her breath quickened, but she didn't move—frozen by a growing sense of dread that crept up her spine.
After what felt like an eternity, Nezumi slowly sat up, her hands gripping the edge of the bed tightly. She forced herself to glance around the room, her gaze darting from corner to corner, scanning for any signs of movement. But nothing was there—just the quiet, empty space she had been sitting in.
Yet the feeling didn't fade. It intensified.
Nezumi's pulse hammered in her ears as she slowly swung her legs off the bed. She had to check—had to make sure there was nothing in the room with her. She stood, her feet cold against the wooden floor, and crept toward the window.
The curtains were drawn, and with shaky hands, she pulled them back, her eyes scanning the darkening street below. But there was nothing there—no one watching her from the outside.
She turned away from the window, her breath shallow as she took a step back. The feeling wasn't gone. It had only gotten worse. It was as if something was closing in on her, suffocating the space around her. She turned slowly, her gaze falling to the empty corner of the room.
And that's when she felt it.
The undeniable presence behind her.
Nezumi's breath caught in her throat, and every muscle in her body tensed. She didn't need to turn around to know. The cold air behind her told her everything she needed to know. Someone—or something—was standing just inches from her back.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, her pulse roaring in her ears as she stood frozen, afraid that even the smallest movement would provoke whatever was there. She could almost feel the breath of whoever was standing behind her, chilling the air between them.
Slowly, almost unwillingly, Nezumi turned around–—