"What even is the difference?"
That question didn't just hang in the air. It lingered. It crawled up Kaito's throat like a vine, strangling every word that tried to come after it. It was Yuuki's voice that asked it—soft, delicate, laced with vulnerability. Her eyes didn't flinch as they bore into his.
It was quiet.
They sat at the edge of the university fountain. Students passed them by, draped in laughter and gossip and the hum of mundane college life. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long golden shadows. The breeze tugged gently at Yuuki's hair, swaying it against her cheek like the fingers of a lover who couldn't let go.
Kaito looked away. His heart throbbed louder than the water bubbling behind them.
"I…" he started, but the word drowned in silence.
Yuuki smiled, but not the kind of smile people wear when they're happy. It was the kind you wear to hide your trembling.
"Never mind," she whispered. "It was a dumb question."
"No," Kaito said quickly. "It's not."
And suddenly, the words came rushing like floodwaters breaching a dam.
"I don't know what a lover's supposed to be. I've never had one. Never held hands in the dark or stayed up past midnight talking about everything and nothing. I don't know what it means to wake up thinking of someone and fall asleep still thinking of them. I don't know if I've done any of those things. But…"
He turned to her. Slowly. As if meeting her gaze was an act of courage.
"I think of you when I see the clouds change. I worry if your umbrella's broken. I check your seat in class before mine. When I hear someone laugh like you, I look around. I don't know if that makes me a lover. But it doesn't feel like friendship either."
Yuuki's breath hitched.
The world around them didn't matter for a moment. Not the students. Not the whispering wind. Not even the sun as it slowly dipped lower behind the lecture hall buildings, casting everything in an amber hue.
Yuuki looked down at her hands. Pale, trembling.
"Do you know what's strange?" she asked. "You're quiet. You barely speak. You disappear into corners like you're trying to vanish from the world. And yet, I've never felt more seen than when I'm with you."
The air thickened.
"And that scares me," she added, almost inaudibly.
"Why?"
"Because if you see me that clearly, then one day you might stop looking… and I'll vanish."
Kaito's chest tightened.
And that was when it happened.
He reached forward. Gently. Carefully. Like his fingers were afraid they might burn. He brushed a stray hair behind her ear.
"You won't vanish," he whispered. "Not to me."
That night, Kaito couldn't sleep.
He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling fan as it spun slow, then fast, then slow again. Haru wasn't home. Probably still out with his model girlfriend, Chiho. His side of the room was a beautiful chaos of expensive sneakers, cologne bottles, and love letters.
Kaito's side, in contrast, was neat. Predictable. Quiet.
But tonight, his heart wasn't.
He turned, checked his phone.
No messages.
Then again, none expected.
He bit his lip. The memory of Yuuki's words echoed in him like the ringing after a concert.
What's the difference between a close friend and a lover?
Did it come down to a label? A kiss? A confession?
Or was it something less tangible? The way your voice softens when you say their name. The way their pain feels like yours. The way silence becomes warm in their presence instead of awkward.
He sat up.
And that was when Haru walked in.
"Yo." Haru dropped his jacket onto the chair and kicked off his shoes. "You look like you just saw your crush holding hands with your therapist."
Kaito blinked. "Huh?"
"You're flushed and fidgety. You only do that when you're emotionally constipated."
Kaito sighed, dragging a pillow over his face. "I'm fine."
"Liar," Haru grinned.
Haru walked to the mini fridge, popped open a can of soda, and sat on his bed. "Yuuki?"
Kaito's pillow fell away. "How did you—?"
"Because I have eyes," Haru said, sipping dramatically. "And because you keep saying her name in your sleep."
"I do not."
"You said it last week while hugging your pillow. It was the most wholesome thing I've ever witnessed."
Kaito groaned.
"So?" Haru asked. "What happened?"
"She asked me what the difference between a friend and a lover was."
"Oof. That's not a trick question. That's a soul question."
"Exactly."
Haru leaned back, resting his head against the wall. "You know what I think? A lover is just a friend with extra honesty. You don't hide how you feel. You don't dodge the scary questions. You look at them, really look, and say, 'I see you, and I still choose you.' That's all."
Kaito looked at him.
"I'm serious," Haru said. "That's the magic. Choosing. Every damn day."
The next morning, campus felt louder than usual.
The university garden was blooming with spring flowers. Lavender. Marigold. Hibiscus. Kaito found himself standing beneath a tall cherry tree in full bloom, waiting.
Yuuki arrived five minutes later, her steps uncertain, her face flushed.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning."
They stood silently for a moment.
"I…" Yuuki started, biting her lower lip, "I thought a lot about what you said yesterday."
Kaito nodded, heart pounding.
"And I think," she continued, "that I might want to explore… what we are."
She blushed furiously.
"But I'm scared. I'm not perfect. I'm clingy. Jealous. I overthink. I sometimes talk too much when I'm nervous. And you're quiet. You're complicated. You have walls I still don't fully understand."
Kaito took a step closer.
"I'm scared too," he said. "But I'd rather be scared with you than brave without you."
Yuuki blinked.
And for the first time, something in her unraveled. Her shoulders dropped. Her eyes softened. She smiled.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay?"
"Okay," she said again. "Let's figure it out. Together."
Kaito smiled, shyly.
And in that moment, the distance between friend and lover narrowed, blurred, and became something beautiful in-between.