For the first time in days, things felt... normal. Or at least, closer to it.
Ayumi and Kaito still shared glances in the hallway. Still exchanged silent greetings — small waves, quick smiles — that no one else seemed to notice.
But the ache from their argument lingered.
---
"Hey," Kaito said one afternoon, finding Ayumi in the library.
She looked up from her notebook, surprised. Hey.
He scratched the back of his neck. "Do you... wanna get some coffee after this?"
Her smile faltered. Are we okay?
Kaito shifted in place. "I... I think we should talk."
---
The café was quieter than usual — warm lighting, soft music humming in the background.
They found a corner booth by the window. For a few minutes, neither said anything.
Finally, Kaito set his drink down and faced her. "I hated not talking to you."
Me too. Ayumi's fingers moved slowly.
"I know I pushed too hard before," Kaito said. "I didn't mean to make you feel cornered."
Ayumi shook her head. You didn't. I just... I didn't know how to handle everything.
"I get that," Kaito said. "But... I need you to tell me when you're struggling. Even if you're scared. Even if you're not sure what to say."
Ayumi's fingers stilled.
I'm not good at that.
"You don't have to be," Kaito said gently. "Just... promise me you'll try."
Ayumi let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
I will.
Kaito's smile softened. "Then I will too."
Promise?
"Promise."
His pinky reached out across the table. Ayumi hesitated, then linked hers with his.
For the first time in a long while, she felt steady.
---
The next few days felt easier.
Ayumi didn't always know how to explain her feelings — but she tried. She started writing her thoughts down more often, leaving notes in Kaito's backpack or sending simple texts:
> Rough morning, but I'm okay.
Thinking about you.
Sorry if I'm quiet today. Just tired.
Each time, Kaito answered with patience — sometimes with words, sometimes just a quick squeeze of her hand.
Kaito kept trying too — learning more sign language, asking questions when he didn't understand.
"It's okay," Ayumi assured him one afternoon, after he confused the sign for 'worry' with 'potato.'
"I just told you I'm feeling like a potato," Kaito groaned, slumping forward.
Ayumi covered her smile with her hand. Close enough.
---
But some challenges weren't so simple.
One weekend, Ayumi invited Kaito to meet her childhood friends — a small group from her deaf community.
The gathering started well enough. They met at a cozy restaurant, laughter bubbling between conversations.
But the longer it went on, the quieter Kaito became.
The signs around him blurred — too fast for him to keep up. Jokes came and went, leaving him stranded in awkward silence.
For the first time in a long while, he felt like the outsider.
---
Later, when they were walking home, Kaito exhaled heavily.
"I... felt useless back there," he admitted.
Ayumi frowned. Why?
"I couldn't follow half the conversation," Kaito muttered. "It's like... your world just moves faster than I can keep up."
Ayumi touched his arm. You did great.
"It didn't feel like it."
You kept trying, Ayumi signed. That's what matters.
Kaito gave her a tired smile. "I just... I don't ever want to make you feel alone."
Ayumi paused, then carefully took his hand.
You make me feel seen, she signed into his palm.
The warmth of her fingers lingered, steady and sure.
---
A few days later, Ayumi found a letter tucked inside her notebook.
"I know I won't always get things right," Kaito's messy handwriting began.
"But I'll never stop trying. And when things get hard... I hope you won't stop trying either."
Ayumi smiled.
That evening, she wrote her own letter back — short and simple, but honest.
"I don't know what's ahead, but I'm not afraid... as long as you're with me."
---
The next time Kaito walked her home, their steps matched — quiet but steady.
Their fingers brushed, and neither pulled away.
For now, that was enough.
---
To Be Continue