Aoi lay awake, curled under her blanket, the hum of the city outside her window too quiet to distract her. Her phone was in her hand, though she hadn't meant to pick it up. She told herself she was just checking the time.
12:47 a.m.
She hadn't saved Mizuki's number. She wasn't sure why she even had it. Maybe one of the girls in class had forwarded a contact list, or maybe Mizuki had sent her something first. Aoi didn't remember. But there it was.
She stared at the screen.
And then, as if pulled by something she couldn't explain, her thumb tapped Call.
It rang once.
Twice.
And then—click.
A breath. A soft, slow inhale.
Aoi froze.
"…Hello?" Mizuki's voice was lower than usual. Sleepy. Real.
Aoi swallowed. "I—sorry. I didn't mean to— I was just—"
"You did mean to." Mizuki didn't sound angry. If anything, she sounded amused.
Aoi let silence fill the space. She didn't know what to say. Her heart was beating way too fast for just a phone call.
"I couldn't sleep," she whispered finally.
"Me neither," Mizuki said. There was a pause, then a soft rustling sound, like she was shifting under her blanket. "Was it me?"
Aoi's breath caught.
Mizuki chuckled, barely audible. "You're bad at lying."
"I didn't say anything—"
"You didn't have to."
The line between them buzzed with something more than signal. Aoi stared at her ceiling, heart loud in her ears.
"You're not what I expected," Mizuki said after a moment. Her voice was softer now, less sharp. "Most people… stay away after I speak to them like I did."
"You didn't scare me," Aoi whispered.
"Liar."
This time, Aoi smiled. "Maybe a little."
Another pause. Then Mizuki asked, "What color are your sheets?"
The question came out of nowhere, intimate and strange. Aoi blinked. "Huh?"
"Your bedsheets."
"Why?"
"Just tell me."
"…Light blue. Why?"
There was a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh on the other end. "I'm trying to imagine where you are."
The air grew heavier. The intimacy of the moment crashed over Aoi like a wave—Mizuki's voice in her ear, her mind painting the image of Aoi lying under soft blue sheets, alone, but not quite.
And then—
"I'd like to see you like that," Mizuki whispered.
Aoi felt her entire body go still.
It wasn't what Mizuki said. It was the way she said it. No teasing. No mocking. Just soft, open honesty. It was too much. It wasn't enough.
Aoi didn't know what to say.
So Mizuki broke the silence.
"Goodnight, Aoi."
A click.
The line went dead.
Aoi stared at the screen, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling far too fast. Her room was the same as before—dark, quiet, empty—but she felt like Mizuki's voice was still echoing in her ears.
And somehow, the silence after her goodbye was louder than anything else.