The music room was empty, just like last time.
Late afternoon sunlight spilled across the wooden floor, casting long shadows through the blinds. Dust floated lazily in the golden light, like frozen whispers in the air.
Aoi entered slowly, her footsteps soft.
Mizuki was already seated at the old piano.
She didn't look up.
She just started playing.
It was nothing Aoi recognized. Not a school piece. Not a pop song. Something… private. Soft and slow, with space between the notes like held breaths.
Aoi stood by the door, unsure.
But the melody pulled her in.
She stepped closer, then sat quietly near the window, facing Mizuki's profile.
Mizuki didn't speak.
Her fingers moved with ease, but the song felt hesitant. Vulnerable. Like she wasn't playing for performance—but confession.
Aoi watched her.
The curve of her back. The tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers trembled just slightly at the end of each phrase.
It wasn't perfect.
It was beautiful.
When the last note faded, Aoi realized she'd been holding her breath.
Mizuki finally looked at her.
"Did you like it?" she asked.
"I didn't know you could play like that," Aoi whispered.
"I usually don't."
"Then why now?"
A small pause. A flicker in Mizuki's eyes.
"Because you're here."
The words sat between them, heavy and soft.
Aoi looked down, unsure how to respond. Her fingers curled in her lap.
Mizuki stood up slowly, walking toward her. Each step was deliberate, echoing faintly against the old wooden floor.
When she reached her, she didn't sit. She just knelt in front of Aoi, looking up.
Close.
So close again.
"I know this is wrong," Mizuki said, her voice lower than the music had been. "I know what they'd say. What they'd do if they saw us like this."
Aoi swallowed.
"But still," Mizuki murmured, "I keep coming back to you."
She reached out. Not to touch—yet. Just holding her hand open between them, waiting.
Aoi hesitated.
Then placed her fingers softly in Mizuki's.
A quiet shiver passed through both of them.
Not a kiss. Not even a hug.
But the way Mizuki looked at her—
Like she'd found something she thought was impossible.
And Aoi—
She couldn't look away.
For once, there were no words.
Just the silence between the notes.
And it said everything.