When the World Feels Open.

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a dim glow over the therapy room. A circle of chairs sat in the center, some occupied by familiar faces, others by people Minori had never seen before. But today, her eyes were fixed on only one person.

Haruka Kiritani.

She sat stiffly in one of the chairs, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes downcast. Minori had seen that face a hundred times before—on magazine covers, posters, TV interviews. But here, in this dull, quiet room, she looked so... small.

Minori swallowed the words bubbling up in her throat. Don’t say anything yet. Just make sure.

The session began as usual—check-ins, discussions, the usual half-hearted participation from some patients. Minori kept glancing at Haruka, but she barely spoke, only murmuring a quiet “pass” when it was her turn to share.

By the time group therapy ended, Minori’s heart was practically hammering in her chest. She waited until most people had shuffled out before carefully stepping toward Haruka, who was lingering near the door.

"Um... hey." Minori tried to keep her voice light, casual. "You’re... Haruka, right?"

Haruka tensed slightly, but she nodded.

Minori hesitated. Now or never.

"I—um. I just wanted to say... I really admire you." She quickly added, "Not like, in a weird way! I mean—just, I think you’re really strong."

Haruka blinked, her expression unreadable. For a long second, Minori worried she had said too much. But then, Haruka exhaled softly and murmured,

"...Thanks."

And that was enough.

-----

The next few days, Minori kept trying. Not in a pushy way—she knew better than that—but just enough that Haruka would notice.

When they sat in therapy group, Minori would always pick the chair next to her. She didn’t talk much, but sometimes, she’d scribble little doodles in the margins of the worksheet they were supposed to fill out. A tiny cat. A wobbly smiley face. A lopsided star. She never showed them to Haruka, but she made sure they were just close enough to be seen.

Haruka didn’t react. Not at first.

She kept her head down, arms folded, shoulders curled in like she wanted to disappear. She barely spoke in group, only muttering a word or two when absolutely necessary. Whenever someone tried to make small talk, she’d just nod or shake her head, like even speaking was too much.

But Minori didn’t give up.

One afternoon, after a particularly heavy session, Minori found Haruka sitting alone in the common room. She had a book open in her lap, but she wasn’t reading—just staring at the pages like they were blurring together.

Minori hesitated, then slowly sat down on the couch across from her. She didn’t say anything. Just... sat there. Close enough to be noticed, far enough to give her space.

Minutes passed.

Haruka’s fingers curled slightly against the book cover. Her gaze flickered—just for a second—toward Minori.

Something about her energy was... strange.

Minori wasn’t quiet. Not in the way Haruka was used to. She fidgeted, tapped her fingers against her knee, let out little hums under her breath when the silence stretched too long. But she wasn’t too much, either.

She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t pry. Didn’t force a conversation when Haruka clearly wasn’t ready.

She just... stayed.

And somehow, that was harder to ignore than anything else.

-----

Haruka didn’t know when she started noticing. Maybe it was the way Minori never seemed to stop moving—always tapping her foot, drumming her fingers, shifting in her seat like sitting still was unbearable. Or maybe it was how she talked, words spilling out like a flood, jumping from one topic to the next without warning.

At first, Haruka had just thought... that was Minori.

But then, one day, she caught something she hadn’t before.

Minori hadn’t slept.

It wasn’t obvious at first—her energy was still the same, still bouncing, still bright—but there was something off about it. Her hands shook just slightly when she picked up her pen. Her laughter was a little too sharp, her eyes a little too wide. When she spoke, her words tripped over each other, running too fast, like her brain was sprinting ahead of her mouth.

And then, after therapy, she just kept going.

She talked to anyone who would listen—staff, patients, even the nurses passing by. Not in a bad way, not aggressively, but... desperately. Like she couldn’t stop. Like stopping wasn’t even an option.

That night, Haruka sat in the common room again, watching Minori from across the room. She was still going. Still moving. Still talking.

And suddenly, it clicked.

She’s manic.

Haruka had heard about it before—read about it in passing, seen it in movies—but she had never seen it up close. Never seen it in real time, in someone sitting right in front of her, smiling too brightly, laughing too loudly.

And the scariest part?

No one was stopping her.

The nurses let her be, the other patients barely noticed. It was like this was just... normal. Like Minori had done this before.

Haruka clenched her hands together, staring down at her lap.

She didn’t know why it bothered her so much.

But it did.

-----

Haruka didn’t say anything. Not that night.

She just watched.

Minori was still going, still pacing, still talking even when there was no one left to listen. It was late—way past lights out—but she hadn’t stopped.

Haruka lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint echoes of Minori’s voice through the wall. It was muffled, but she could still hear the nervous laughter, the rapid, endless words, the way Minori’s voice would spike up like she was trying to outrun something.

But then—

Silence.

Haruka frowned. Shifted slightly. She had almost gotten used to the noise, the constant presence of Minori’s energy just on the other side of the wall. But now, it was gone.

For a moment, there was nothing.

And then—

A sound.

A choked, muffled sob.

Haruka froze.

The sob turned into a whimper. Then a shaky, gasping breath.

Then—

A scream.

It wasn’t loud, not enough to alert the nurses immediately, but it was raw. Like something being ripped apart from the inside out.

Haruka shot up in bed.

She knew what this was.

The crash.

Minori’s voice cracked through the wall—fast, panicked, broken.

"No, no, no, stop, stop—please—please just stop—"

A thud. Something hitting the floor.

Haruka’s breath caught in her throat.

"I hate this, I hate this, I hate this—"

Another sob. Another scream, muffled like Minori had shoved her face into her pillow.

Haruka sat there, frozen, hands clenched in her blanket.

She had never seen—or heard—someone fall apart like this before.

It was different from the way she broke.

Her own sadness was quiet, slow, suffocating.

Minori’s? It was violent. A storm crashing all at once, loud and messy and desperate.

Haruka squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to cover her ears, to drown it out, to pretend she wasn’t hearing this.

But she couldn’t.

Because for some reason, the sound of Minori breaking hurt more than she expected.

-----

Haruka barely slept.

Even after the screaming stopped, even after the sobs faded into silence, she couldn’t shake the sound from her head.

Minori’s voice, breaking over and over.

The sound of something hitting the floor.

The desperate, choked gasps.

Haruka had thought about knocking on the wall. Just... something, anything. But she didn’t.

She just lay there. Listening. Frozen.

And then, at some point—silence.

She didn’t know if it was exhaustion or if the nurses had come in and sedated her.

But by the time morning came, Haruka knew one thing: she had to check on Minori.

---

Breakfast in the cafeteria was the same as always. Patients shuffled in, some talking, some silent, some still lost in whatever meds or thoughts were weighing them down.

But Minori wasn’t there.

Haruka felt a strange twist in her chest.

She hesitated, then quietly slipped out of the room, heading toward the hallway where the bedrooms were. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Maybe Minori curled up in bed, exhausted from the night before. Maybe her usual bright, forced energy, trying to act like nothing had happened.

But when she got closer—

She saw them.

The nurses.

Standing outside Minori’s room, speaking in hushed voices.

And inside—

Minori.

Restrained.

Haruka stopped cold.

Minori was lying in bed, wrists bound in soft hospital restraints, eyes open but empty. A bandage wrapped around her arm. Bruises lined her skin, some fresh, some faded.

She wasn’t moving. Just staring at the ceiling.

Like she wasn’t even there.

Haruka’s breath hitched.

She had heard this. All of it.

The thuds. The struggle.

She hadn’t known what Minori was doing, but now...

Now she did.

And for the first time since coming here, Haruka felt something unfamiliar clawing at her chest.

Regret.

-----

Haruka didn’t say anything.

She just stood there, watching as the nurses finished checking Minori over, adjusting the restraints before stepping away.

Minori still hadn’t moved.

It wasn’t until the nurses left that she blinked. Slowly. Like it took effort.

Haruka swallowed and took a hesitant step closer.

"...Minori?"

For a second, nothing.

Then—

Minori’s head turned just slightly, her gaze unfocused but searching. When her eyes landed on Haruka, she twitched, like she was trying to sit up before realizing—

She couldn’t.

The restraints held her down.

And for the briefest moment, something flickered across her face. Panic. Embarrassment. Shame.

But then—

She smiled.

"Ah—ha. Morning, Haruka~" Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. But she still tried to make it sound light, cheery. Like nothing had happened.

Haruka’s stomach twisted.

Minori's eyes were red. Puffy. Dark circles beneath them. Her arms were wrapped in bandages, and yet—

She was smiling.

"Didn’t sleep much, huh?" Minori let out a soft, weak laugh. "Yeah, me neither. Crazy night, huh?"

Haruka’s fingers clenched at her sides.

"Minori." Her voice was quieter than she expected.

Minori blinked at her, tilting her head. "Mmm?"

Haruka wanted to ask.

Why?

Why are you smiling?

Why are you acting like everything’s fine?

Why did I hear you screaming through the wall last night?

But she didn’t.

Because suddenly, she understood.

This was Minori’s defense. Her way of pretending it didn’t happen. That she wasn’t hurting. That she wasn’t trapped in her own body, her own mind, her own pain.

Haruka felt something tighten in her chest.

She looked away.

"...You should rest."

Minori laughed again, but this time, it was quieter.

"...Yeah."

She didn’t stop smiling.

-----

Haruka left the room.

She didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t look back.

She just turned and walked down the hallway, past the nurses, past the other patients, past everything—

Until she was back in her own room.

She shut the door.

Sat down on the bed.

And stared at her hands.

They were shaking.

Why?

Why was she reacting like this?

She barely knew Minori. They had only spoken a few times. It wasn’t like they were friends. It wasn’t like she was responsible for her.

And yet—

Her chest hurt.

That smile.

That stupid, fake smile.

Haruka squeezed her hands into fists.

She had seen fake smiles before. Hell, she had worn them.

But Minori’s wasn’t just fake. It was desperate.

Like if she didn’t smile, she would fall apart again.

Haruka’s fingers dug into her sleeves.

Last night, she had heard everything.

The begging, the screaming, the choked sobs, the sound of her body hitting the floor over and over—

And now, Minori was acting like none of it mattered.

Haruka felt sick.

She hated this.

She hated how powerless she had felt, lying there, listening to it happen.

She hated how Minori had smiled at her like nothing was wrong.

And more than anything—

She hated that she cared.

Because caring meant getting involved.

Caring meant hurting when the other person hurt.

Caring meant feeling like this—this horrible, twisted, aching feeling in her chest—over someone she barely even knew.

Haruka shut her eyes.

Took a deep breath.

And tried to push it all away.

And Haruka had never hated a smile more in her life.

-----   

(I'm breaking the 4th wall for this but, I'm gonna stop with the text since I'm actually getting so lazy LMAOAOAO okay, continue.. sorry)

It was the next day.

Haruka sat in the therapy room, the usual quiet chatter floating around as the nurse handed out sheets for an icebreaker activity.

The exercise was simple—get to know each other. Answer a few questions, share something about yourself. It was supposed to help build trust and communication.

But Haruka wasn’t ready for this.

Her head was still spinning from what she’d seen and heard the night before. And now—now—she was going to have to sit across from Minori again.

Haruka glanced up at the nurse as they called out names.

"Haruka, Minori—you're paired together."

Haruka’s stomach dropped.

She could feel her pulse quicken. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the paper in front of her.

She tried not to look at Minori as they shuffled toward each other, but she could hear her footsteps behind her, feel her presence creeping closer.

When they sat down at the table, Minori wasted no time.

"Okay! Icebreaker time! Let’s get this started!" she said, her voice still cheerful, but a little too forced, too bright. It felt... hollow.

Haruka just nodded, glancing down at her sheet.

The first question was simple: What's your favorite food?

Minori leaned forward, her hands tapping rapidly on the table. "Ooh, I love pasta! Any kind, really! Spaghetti, lasagna, you name it! I could eat it every day!" She grinned, the smile still too wide, too enthusiastic.

Haruka just watched her, the words not really registering.

Minori’s energy was so loud. Too loud.

"How about you?" Minori asked, leaning in even closer, eyes bright as if she was waiting for Haruka to answer.

Haruka blinked, snapped back to reality. She forced a smile, then glanced at her sheet.

"...Uh, I guess... ramen," she muttered, her voice low.

Minori nodded eagerly, already flipping to the next question.

"Okay, okay, next one! What's a hobby you enjoy? This is a good one!"

Haruka hesitated. She thought about it. What did she enjoy anymore? Nothing felt real lately. Nothing felt... safe.

But Minori was waiting for her to respond, her fingers drumming on the table like she was still running a marathon inside her mind.

"Uh... reading," Haruka said quietly, trying to keep the conversation flowing, trying not to let the silence between them feel too thick.

Minori's eyes widened. "Oh! That's awesome! I... I mean, I don’t really read much anymore. I used to, but now I just... I don’t know, I don’t have the time? Or the energy, haha."

The forced cheer in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

Haruka felt a sinking feeling in her stomach again. She knew what that sounded like. The way Minori was trying to fill the air with noise, trying to cover up the emptiness.

Haruka couldn’t bring herself to respond immediately. She glanced at Minori, studying her for a moment.

It was like they were in two different worlds.

Minori was pretending like nothing had happened. But Haruka saw it. Saw the way her hands trembled ever so slightly, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, the way she couldn’t quite sit still.

Haruka opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, Minori shot another question her way.

"Okay, so, last one! What's something you're afraid of?"

Haruka froze.

Minori’s eyes brightened, waiting for the answer. But Haruka couldn’t bring herself to look at her.

Fear? Minori wanted to know about fear?

Minori was sitting right there, still pretending, and Haruka felt like she was choking on the air.

She wanted to tell Minori that she was scared. Scared of what was happening to her, scared of what she might do, scared of feeling everything too deeply.

But...

Haruka wasn’t sure she could.

So, she just looked down at her hands again. "I don’t know. A lot of things."

Minori seemed to accept the answer without question, but Haruka could feel the tension in the air.

-----

The next question was supposed to be light, but Haruka didn’t feel like sticking to the script anymore.

She looked at Minori, trying to ignore the way her hands were still tapping nervously, the way her smile never seemed to fully settle.

"Minori," Haruka started, her voice a little uncertain. "What... what made you decide to come here? To the hospital?"

Minori blinked, clearly not expecting the question. She leaned back a bit in her chair, letting out a small, nervous laugh.

"Oh, you know... just needed a break, I guess? Things got a little overwhelming, y’know?" Her voice was light, but there was something in her eyes that flickered for just a second—something Haruka couldn’t quite place.

Haruka didn’t buy it.

"...Overwhelming how?" she pressed, her gaze soft but direct.

Minori seemed to pause. The air between them thickened. She shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tapping faster now, too fast. "It’s... uh, complicated. I don’t really wanna get into it."

Haruka waited.

When Minori didn't elaborate, Haruka pushed a little further.

"I think it’s important, you know? To talk about things... that hurt."

Minori’s smile wavered for a split second before she plastered it back on, her eyes darting around the room.

"...It’s fine. Really. Just a little break. I’m getting better, though. I’ll be fine. You’ll see!"

But there was something about her tone that didn’t match her words. It sounded rehearsed.

Haruka tilted her head, watching Minori closely.

"Are you really okay?"

Minori laughed, a bit too loud. "Of course! I’m just... trying to figure things out." Her voice was shaky now, the cracks starting to show. She rubbed her wrist anxiously, but still—she smiled.

Haruka felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She was starting to see it now.

The way Minori was trying to cover up her pain.

The way she tried to act normal, as if pretending nothing was wrong would make it disappear.

Haruka couldn’t let it go.

"...Minori, you don’t have to hide it. It’s okay to talk about what’s going on. I mean... you don’t have to pretend everything’s okay."

Minori’s expression faltered for just a moment—a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Haruka to notice.

Then Minori straightened up, her hands clasping together tightly in her lap. Her voice was quieter now, but still full of forced cheer.

"I... I’m not hiding anything, Haruka. Really. I’m just... I just want to feel better."

Haruka didn’t know what to say.

The conversation had shifted now. There was no going back.

Minori wasn’t just masking her pain. She was trying to bury it.

Haruka felt a strange, heavy weight on her chest.

She didn’t know how to fix this. She didn’t even know if she could.

-----

Haruka couldn’t shake the feeling.

It started small. At first, she thought it was just the usual nerves—the discomfort of being surrounded by people she didn’t know, the anxiety creeping in when someone was too close. But the more time she spent around Minori, the worse it got.

It wasn’t just the way Minori smiled too wide or talked too fast.

It was the way she never stopped.

No matter how interesting Minori’s conversations were—idol stories, behind-the-scenes stuff, the passion she exuded when talking about her dreams—Haruka couldn’t breathe when she was near her. The endless energy, the hyperactivity, the cracks in her voice that she was desperately trying to hide... it all made Haruka feel like she was suffocating.

Minori’s voice was like music. It was beautiful, almost angelic, and when she sang, Haruka could hear the pain behind the melody. But it only made Haruka want to distance herself more.

It wasn’t Minori’s fault. She was kind, bright, and so full of potential.

But Haruka was drowning in the rawness of it all.

She started avoiding Minori.

She’d pretend to be busy when Minori tried to talk to her. She’d slip away when Minori approached with that bright, forced smile.

It wasn’t that Haruka didn’t care.

It wasn’t that Minori didn’t deserve to be heard or supported.

But the truth was...

Haruka was afraid.

Afraid of getting too close. Afraid of the intensity that Minori brought with her. Afraid of how she felt when Minori’s energy hit her like a tidal wave.

It felt like everything about Minori was too much for Haruka to handle.

And yet, when she closed her eyes at night, Haruka couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way Minori had looked when she tried to force her smile, the vulnerability Haruka had caught in a fleeting moment...

But no matter how much she wanted to help, to be there, the anxiety that bubbled up when she was near Minori made it impossible.

So she stayed away.

-----

Minori couldn’t ignore it.

At first, it was small things. A glance that wasn’t quite met, a pause in the conversation, an awkward silence that never used to be there. But over time, it became harder to ignore.

Haruka was avoiding her.

She’d always been so easy to talk to, always ready to share stories, laugh with Minori, and ask about her music. But now?

Minori would see Haruka in the distance, staring at her paper or the wall or anything but Minori. She’d call her name, and Haruka would quickly offer a half-smile, maybe a few words, and then—nothing.

The conversations seemed forced. Haruka never really responded the way she used to, never seemed interested in talking anymore.

Minori tried to push through it. She smiled brightly, told herself it was fine.

But the silence between them started to weigh on her chest, and the more Haruka pulled away, the heavier it became.

It hurt.

Was I too much? Minori thought. Did I do something wrong?

She never asked. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but deep down, she could feel it. Haruka was avoiding her.

And it stung.

Minori sat by herself in the corner one night, after another failed attempt to start a conversation. She stared at the wall, her hands pressed tightly together as if she could hold herself together by force.

This is just like always, she thought, forcing a small, sad smile to herself. They all leave eventually. Everyone always leaves...

The manic energy inside her buzzed quietly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

Before all of this—before the chaos of the breakdowns, the manic episodes, the pain of rejection from the world—she hadn’t felt so... alone.

She remembered a time when her life hadn’t been defined by this constant rush of energy. When she could be calm, could breathe without feeling like her heart was racing too fast, without that nagging sense of something shattered inside of her.

But now?

Now, she was just the girl who couldn’t keep still. The girl who couldn’t hide her pain. The girl everyone avoided.

Minori’s smile faded.

She missed the way she used to be... before all of this. Before the manic episodes and the constant chasing of validation from others. Before she had to be too much to be noticed.

Before she became just another person who everyone eventually grew tired of.

-----

Minori tried to ignore it.

She told herself it didn’t matter.

Haruka was just busy. She was probably just overwhelmed, adjusting to the hospital. It wasn’t about Minori.

Right?

She tried to focus on other things.

She sang more. In the common room, in her own space, in the hallways where the nurses didn’t mind. She lost herself in the music, let it fill the gaps where companionship used to be.

She talked to other patients. Made jokes, made herself loud. It was easier that way—when people were laughing, they didn’t notice the way her hands trembled, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

She tried, she really did.

But some nights, when everything was quiet and the world felt a little too still, it crept back in.

That heavy, sinking feeling in her chest.

That ache that told her: She’s avoiding you. She doesn’t want to deal with you. Just like everyone else.

Minori sat on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest. She was supposed to be sleeping, but her thoughts wouldn’t let her.

Her heart pounded too fast, her mind racing in too many directions at once.

Maybe she should talk to Haruka. Maybe she should just ask—Did I do something wrong?

But the thought of it terrified her.

Because what if Haruka said yes?

What if it wasn’t just in her head? What if Haruka really did think she was too much?

Minori squeezed her eyes shut.

Her fingers dug into her arms. Just a little pressure, just enough to ground herself.

She missed the way things used to be.

She missed feeling wanted.

She missed a version of herself that didn’t feel like she was constantly chasing after people who were always running away.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to smile.

It’s fine, she told herself. I just have to try harder. I just have to be better.

And so, the next morning, Minori plastered on her brightest expression, her loudest voice, and pretended nothing was wrong.

-----

At first, Haruka thought it was just her.

She thought maybe she was the only one who felt uneasy around Minori, the only one who struggled with the overwhelming energy, the too-wide smiles, the constant chatter that never seemed to stop.

But then she started noticing it.

It wasn’t just her.

Other patients avoided Minori, too.

When Minori entered a room, people shifted away slightly. When she spoke too loudly, people gave her small, hesitant smiles before excusing themselves. When she laughed, full of energy and excitement, no one really laughed with her.

Haruka saw it happen again and again.

Minori would approach someone, try to strike up a conversation, and they’d nod politely, keep their answers short, and find a reason to leave.

And every time, Minori’s smile would falter just a little before she forced it back into place.

It made Haruka feel sick.

Because now she knew it wasn’t just her avoiding Minori.

It was everyone.

And yet, Minori kept pretending. Kept acting like she didn’t notice. Kept talking, laughing, pushing forward like nothing was wrong.

Haruka couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Minori wasn’t just too much. She wasn’t just loud. She wasn’t just manic.

She was alone.

And for the first time since she started avoiding her, Haruka wondered—

How long has Minori been used to this?

-----

Haruka knew she should say something.

Every time she saw Minori forcing a laugh, every time she caught the flicker of sadness behind her mask, every time another patient made an excuse to walk away—she knew she should say something.

But she didn’t.

Because Haruka could barely handle herself.

She was exhausted. Every day felt like a battle just to exist. Getting out of bed was difficult. Eating was impossible. Looking in the mirror was a nightmare.

She barely had the energy to speak some days, let alone reach out to someone like Minori.

Minori was struggling, but at least she was trying. At least she was talking, laughing, putting in the effort.

Haruka didn’t even have that.

She felt hollow, stuck in this endless cycle of self-destruction, and she wasn’t sure she had anything to give.

So she told herself it wasn’t her problem.

She told herself Minori would be fine.

She told herself someone else would reach out first.

And yet, every time she saw Minori’s smile falter—every time she saw her hide that brief moment of pain—Haruka felt a deep, crushing guilt settle in her chest.

But she still didn’t move.

Because she didn’t know if she could.

-----

It was another night, quiet and still in the hospital. The sound of the occasional nurse’s footsteps echoed through the halls, and the low hum of the fluorescent lights above was the only thing keeping the silence at bay.

Haruka lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, fighting against the urge to drift into that endless void of exhaustion.

She couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts were too loud. Too loud, and too painful.

Her body felt too weak to even move.

And then, from the room next door, she heard it.

A sharp, guttural scream.

The kind that made her blood run cold.

Minori.

Haruka's heart jumped into her throat, her breath catching in her chest. She hadn’t heard Minori like this before. There were no laughs. No loud, frantic energy. Just raw, unfiltered pain.

For a moment, Haruka froze, her mind scrambling to process what was happening.

Then came the thud.

A crash, followed by the sound of something breaking.

Haruka's instinct was to ignore it.

But she couldn’t.

She shot up from her bed, clutching the side of the mattress for support, her hands shaking.

She couldn’t just lie there.

She couldn’t pretend anymore.

She stood up, her legs trembling beneath her as she staggered toward Minori’s room.

The door was ajar, and the hallway light flickered weakly, casting shadows across the floor. Haruka hesitated, unsure of what she would find on the other side.

But she couldn’t stop herself.

With a shaky breath, Haruka pushed the door open.

Minori was on the floor.

Her body was curled in on itself, her breathing harsh and erratic, tears streaming down her face as she rocked back and forth, muttering something that Haruka couldn’t make out.

The sight was a punch to the gut, a reminder that no one was truly okay.

Haruka didn’t know what to do, but she couldn’t leave.

She stepped into the room, her heart pounding, and in the silence, she could hear the soft sobs that Minori tried so desperately to hide from everyone else.

She had no idea what to say.

But she couldn’t let Minori be alone in this. Not anymore.

“Minori...” Haruka whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

The word felt like a lifeline.

Minori didn’t respond at first. She just kept rocking, her body shuddering with each breath, her hands clutching at her clothes as though she were holding herself together.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, Minori lifted her head.

Her face was a mess of tears, her eyes wide, and her breath was ragged, as if she’d been fighting for a long time.

When she saw Haruka standing there, something shifted.

The tiniest flicker of recognition, but it was quickly gone, replaced by a fragile, broken smile.

“I’m fine,” Minori said, her voice wavering. “I’m okay. Really.”

Haruka couldn’t hold back anymore. She took a step forward, then another, and before she knew it, she was kneeling beside Minori, her hand hovering but unsure if she should touch her.

But Minori’s eyes were empty. The smile didn’t reach them.

Haruka couldn’t stand it.

“You’re not fine,” Haruka said softly, her voice breaking. “You’re not fine, and I... I don’t know how to help, but I can’t just pretend like nothing’s happening anymore.”

Minori let out a small, shaky laugh.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m used to it.”

Haruka couldn’t bear it. Not anymore.

Haruka’s chest tightened as she watched Minori’s fragile, broken smile.

She could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her, her instincts screaming at her to do something. Anything.

Minori was unraveling, and Haruka could see it now. There was nothing normal about this. She wasn’t just sad. She wasn’t just upset. This was something deeper, something dangerous.

Minori's breath was ragged, her hands trembling, and she was starting to lash out—clawing at the floor as if trying to hold herself together, as if the pain inside her was something she could fight away.

Haruka’s heart raced, the panic rising in her chest. She knew what this looked like. She knew what could happen.

People in manic episodes can become destructive.

Haruka had read about it. She had seen it happen in the hospital before. And now, looking at Minori, she realized just how far gone she was.

She needed help.

Without thinking, Haruka turned and stumbled toward the door, barely able to keep her balance.

Her hand shook as she grabbed the handle. She didn’t know who she should call first, but she needed to make sure Minori was safe.

“Please, someone help!” Haruka’s voice broke as she opened the door and screamed down the hallway.

Her eyes blurred with tears as she shouted for the nurses, her voice trembling with desperation.

“Please!” She repeated. “Someone, please help her!”

Minori’s desperate cries echoed through the room, and Haruka’s stomach churned.

It was too much.

She couldn’t do this alone.

Haruka stood by the door, her body shaking as she kept her eyes locked on Minori, who was still struggling on the floor, her movements erratic. Her voice kept rising and falling in sharp, jagged bursts, and it hurt to hear. Every breath Minori took felt heavy, almost like she was choking on the pain.

The minutes stretched on, each one feeling like an eternity, and Haruka’s thoughts were swirling in a haze. She could hear herself shouting down the hall, but it felt distant, almost like someone else was screaming.

Her mind raced, but all she could focus on was the fact that Minori was in danger. Her manic episode was only getting worse, and Haruka had no idea how to help her calm down.

A nurse rounded the corner at last, rushing into the room with another staff member right behind them.

“Haruka, what happened?” the nurse asked, her voice calm but urgent.

Haruka struggled to form words, her hands trembling.

“She... she’s... she’s not okay.” Haruka finally managed to get out. “She’s... I don’t know, she’s been like this for a while. I couldn’t— I couldn’t help her.”

Minori’s cries grew louder as she thrashed on the floor, her hands pulling at her hair, her body curling in on itself like she was trying to escape something invisible.

The nurse nodded to her colleague, and they moved swiftly toward Minori, their calm voices cutting through the chaos. “Minori, we’re here. It’s okay, we’re here to help.”

Minori flinched away from their touch, her eyes wide with fear, her hands still gripping her own hair as though she could pull herself back together.

“No—no!” she screamed, her voice raw. “I don’t want help! Don’t—don’t touch me!”

Haruka’s heart ached, but she knew the nurses were trained for this. She just had to stand aside, let them do their job. She had to trust that they could help Minori when she couldn’t.

As the nurses gently but firmly restrained Minori, one of them turned to Haruka, giving her a reassuring look. “It’s okay. She’s safe now. We’ll take care of her.”

Haruka nodded numbly, unable to say anything. She just stood there, frozen in place, watching them work.

The next few minutes were a blur of swift actions, the nurses speaking in soft, steady voices as they calmed Minori down. One nurse spoke into a walkie-talkie, and soon, another team arrived with a sedative to help Minori settle.

Haruka felt a lump rise in her throat as she watched Minori slowly begin to relax, her body going limp, tears still streaking her face as she breathed deeply. It was a long, slow process, but the frantic energy had finally started to ebb.

One of the nurses turned to Haruka, offering her a small, sympathetic smile. “Thank you for getting us. You did the right thing.”

Haruka couldn’t speak. She just nodded, her eyes fixed on Minori, who was now lying in the bed, her body still but her eyes wide open, as if she were waiting for something.

How long has she been suffering like this? Haruka wondered. How long has she been alone in this?

Haruka’s own guilt gnawed at her insides, but for now, she could only stand there, watching the nurses care for Minori as she tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

-----

The days that followed were quiet. The hospital was still and calm, as if everything had returned to normal, but Haruka couldn’t shake the image of Minori from her mind. The way Minori had looked, so broken and fragile, had stayed with her. It was too much to process, and Haruka couldn’t help but feel the weight of it pressing down on her chest.

She tried to focus on the mundane things—filling out paperwork, attending group therapy—but nothing felt the same. The air around her seemed heavy, suffocating. She couldn’t escape the guilt that curled around her thoughts, constantly reminding her of how small she had felt in that moment when Minori needed help the most.

But even so, Haruka kept her distance. She couldn’t bring herself to approach Minori, not just yet. The sight of her in such a vulnerable state had shaken her more than she cared to admit. She still wanted to be there for Minori, just... not in the way she had before. Not yet.

When the hospital scheduled partnered activities, Haruka and Minori were paired together more than once. It wasn’t the worst thing—Haruka knew Minori appreciated it. They had their moments of light conversation, sharing small smiles and even talking about their favorite idols, but it wasn’t the same. There was a noticeable space between them now, a wall that Haruka couldn’t bring herself to break down.

Minori seemed to sense it. She could tell that Haruka wasn’t quite there. Her eyes would linger for just a moment longer than usual, searching Haruka’s face for something, anything. But Haruka couldn’t meet her gaze for too long. She could feel the weight of the distance that had formed between them, and it made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t explain.

At the end of each partnered activity, Minori would give a soft, almost wistful smile. “Thanks, Haruka. I appreciate you being here.”

Haruka would nod, forcing a small smile back. “Of course, Minori. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t enough. She was just... there. Just barely. And Minori knew it too.

-----

As the days wore on, Haruka found herself struggling with the distance she’d placed between herself and Minori. Every time they were paired together, she felt that familiar pull in her chest—a mix of guilt, longing, and something else she couldn’t quite name. She was avoiding Minori, but at the same time, she needed her presence.

It was like an unspoken bond, and Haruka didn’t want to admit it, but it was there. She found herself unconsciously looking for Minori during group therapy, her eyes searching for her in the crowd. When they passed each other in the halls, Haruka’s heart would skip a beat, and for a moment, she would wonder if Minori felt the same.

But Haruka couldn’t ignore it any longer—she missed her.

Despite the way she’d pulled back, despite the tension that hung between them, there was something comforting about Minori’s presence. The way she talked about her favorite idols, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about them. It was like a small window to a world where things weren’t so complicated.

One day, as they were paired together for another activity, Haruka found herself talking without thinking. “Hey, Minori,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, “I... I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s... how are you really doing?”

Minori glanced at her, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. She hesitated, then offered a small, unsure smile. “I’m okay. I mean... you know, better than before.”

Haruka looked at her, trying to gauge her response. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Minori was still hiding something, but maybe—just maybe—it was a step forward.

"I just want to make sure you're okay," Haruka added softly. “I’m sorry for... pulling away. I didn't mean to.”

Minori’s expression softened, and she looked at Haruka with a sincerity that made Haruka’s heart ache. “It’s... it’s fine, really. I know you’ve got your own stuff going on too. But it’s nice... to hear you say that.”

Haruka felt something inside her break just a little. It wasn’t easy for her to admit, but it felt like the right moment. “I’m sorry, Minori. I didn’t want you to think I was... ignoring you.”

Minori shook her head, her gaze turning soft. “It’s okay. I get it. But... I’ll be here, okay? Whenever you’re ready to talk.”

That was all Haruka needed to hear. Despite everything, Minori wasn’t angry with her. And maybe, just maybe, there was a way back to the bond they once had.

As they continued with their activity, Haruka found herself unconsciously leaning closer to Minori, her mind still swirling with everything that had happened. But for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like they were finding their way back to each other—slowly, but surely.

-----

Haruka sat on her bed, the hospital room barely lit by the dim light outside the window. It was late—too late, or maybe too early. Time had long lost its meaning here. Everything felt... fuzzy. Like the world outside was moving too fast and she was stuck in one place, unable to catch up.

She stared at the cracked wall in front of her, wishing it would say something—anything—that might give her some sense of direction. But no, nothing. It was just like everything else. Blank. Empty.

Her thoughts were a constant whirlpool, spinning around the same old shit, again and again. The idol industry. The fans. The rejection. The endless pressure. The smiling face she had to wear every damn day, the one she learned to put on like a mask so no one would see how broken she was underneath. She could still remember the lights, the applause, the sound of her voice hitting the wrong notes, the pressure of living up to an image that wasn’t hers. But none of it mattered, not really. It never had.

What hurt the most wasn’t the rejection. It wasn’t the fans moving on to the next “shiny new idol,” the next face that would light up a screen. No. What hurt the most was how she had to lose herself in the process, how she had to give up everything—her dreams, her identity, even the pieces of her soul just to fit into the mold they wanted.

And now, here she was, trapped in a place that was supposed to help but only made her feel more lost.

She should’ve been used to the silence by now, the endless ticking of the clock on the wall, the distant echoes of footsteps in the hallway. But it was always louder in here. The silence gnawed at her, suffocating, reminding her that she didn’t belong in the world anymore. She had been broken too much, too many times.

What did it even mean to heal? What was she supposed to do with all of this pain? No one had the answers. The staff here tried, sure. They checked on her every few hours, gave her those stupid “How are you feeling?” questions like they were supposed to fix her. But no one could fix something that was never whole to begin with. The doctors and nurses never really saw her. They never saw the girl who had once been an idol, the girl who had been someone, before the world chewed her up and spit her out.

She just felt empty, like there was nothing left of her except a shell of who she once was. Her parents cared, her fans cheered her on, but they didn’t get it. They didn’t understand the kind of hollow emptiness that took up space in her chest, that gnawed at her every minute, making her feel like she was sinking further into nothingness.

The worst part of all of this? The part that made it feel impossible to breathe? Was that she was just... here. Stuck. Floating between what had been and what could never be again. In the hospital, everyone was always trying to “fix” something, but they didn’t understand: She wasn’t broken the way they thought. She was just... gone. There was nothing to put back together. She was just existing, waiting for the inevitable crushing weight of exhaustion to pull her under.

And then there was Minori.

Minori, with her manic energy and that smile that was always so bright, always so hopeful. But Haruka couldn’t reach her. Not when she was drowning herself. Not when she couldn’t even save herself. She couldn’t fix Minori, no matter how much she wanted to. The gap between them was widening, and Haruka wasn’t sure if she could reach across it. She couldn’t bring herself to pretend she was fine when she wasn’t. But Minori was... she was something. Something pure, something raw, and Haruka wanted to reach out, wanted to help. But how could she help when she couldn’t even save herself?

Haruka’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt that familiar tightness in her chest again, the feeling that she was suffocating. She reached up to wipe her eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears. It didn’t stop the overwhelming flood of emotions that threatened to drown her, that made her feel like she was losing herself all over again. She couldn’t keep pretending like everything was okay. She couldn’t keep carrying this weight alone.

There were days—nights like tonight—when it felt like it would be easier to let go. When the pain of surviving felt like more than she could handle. But she couldn’t. No, she wouldn’t let herself fall into that. She wasn’t ready to be swallowed whole, not yet.

But, God, it was hard. It was so damn hard.

The weight of the silence in her room was deafening. She wanted to scream, wanted to feel something—anything that could make this feel real again. But it was all too much. The world, the hospital, everything... it was like they were just waiting for her to fall apart completely.

She leaned forward, pulling her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself like she could keep the pieces of her together that way.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

But no one heard.

-----

Minori sat next to Haruka in the common area, fingers tapping against her knee, the air between them thick with an awkwardness that hadn’t been there before. It had been days—weeks?—since Haruka had really spoken to her. Minori wasn’t stupid. She noticed. She noticed the way Haruka would only acknowledge her in group settings, how she avoided catching her eyes when they sat across from each other in therapy. How, even now, Haruka was keeping just enough distance between them, like being too close would make everything collapse.

Still, Minori wasn’t one to give up easily.

“Hey,” she started, her voice deliberately light, like she wasn’t pressing too hard. Like she wasn’t afraid that Haruka would just get up and leave. “So, um... I heard you humming yesterday. During art therapy.”

Haruka didn’t react at first. She just kept looking down at her lap, her fingers curled loosely around the hem of her sleeve. But Minori saw the slight shift in her posture—the way her shoulders tensed, the way her breath hitched just a little. It was subtle, but Minori had always been good at reading people.

Minori waited, but Haruka didn’t answer.

She exhaled, rocking forward slightly, her legs kicking out in front of her. “You know... you have a really pretty voice. Like, really pretty. Even when you’re just humming.”

Haruka still didn’t look at her, but her fingers twitched slightly. A reaction. Small, but there.

“I always wondered what it would’ve been like to hear you perform live,” Minori continued, like she wasn’t pushing, like she wasn’t begging for some kind of response. “I bet you were amazing.”

“I wasn’t.”

Haruka’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the space between them like a knife. Minori straightened, blinking in surprise—not because Haruka answered, but because of the weight in her voice. Because of the way she said it, like the words had been burned into her skin, like she had spent years convincing herself of that one fact.

Minori swallowed. “That’s not true.”

Haruka let out a short, humorless laugh, finally turning to look at her. Her eyes were tired—so, so tired. “It is.”

Minori frowned. There was something about the way Haruka said it, something final, that made her chest tighten. She wanted to argue, to say something, anything, to convince her otherwise. But she knew that wasn’t how this worked. She knew words couldn’t fix the kind of damage Haruka carried.

So instead, she tried something else.

“...Do you ever miss it?”

Haruka blinked. “What?”

Minori tilted her head, offering a small, hesitant smile. “Singing. Performing. Do you ever miss it?”

Haruka stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she exhaled, dropping her gaze back to her hands. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and Minori could tell just how much it hurt her to say it. “I don’t know what I miss anymore.”

Minori’s heart ached at that.

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of Haruka’s words settling between them. And maybe they were just patients in the same hospital, just two people thrown together by circumstance. But Minori still wanted to try.

Even if it was awkward. Even if Haruka never fully let her in.

Even if she could never close the gap completely.

At least she could still try.

-----

Haruka didn’t know why she started talking. Maybe it was the exhaustion, the way everything in her chest felt too heavy to hold in anymore. Or maybe it was the way Minori was just... there. Still trying, even after Haruka had spent so long keeping her at a distance.

Either way, the words slipped out before she could stop them.

“I tried to disappear.”

Minori stilled. Her breath caught for just a second, but she didn’t interrupt. She just waited, watching Haruka carefully, like she was afraid that saying the wrong thing would make her close off again.

Haruka swallowed, fingers curling around the hem of her sleeve. “It wasn’t... dramatic or anything,” she continued, her voice quiet. “I wasn’t crying or writing a letter or—” She let out a dry, humorless laugh. “I just stopped eating. Stopped caring. And eventually, my body just—” She exhaled sharply. “Gave out.”

She didn’t have to say the rest. Minori understood.

A moment passed, then another.

“You were alone?” Minori finally asked, her voice just as quiet.

Haruka nodded. “For a while. My parents noticed eventually. They got me help. But it was too late by then.”

“Too late?”

Haruka looked at her then, and for the first time since they met, Minori saw it—really saw it. The hollow, aching grief in her eyes.

“I don’t think I know how to be a person anymore.”

Minori’s throat tightened.

Haruka looked away, staring at the floor like it might swallow her whole. “I used to know what I wanted. I used to have something to hold onto. And now...” Her voice cracked, just barely. “I don’t know how to get that back.”

Minori didn’t have the right words to fix that. She didn’t think there were any.

But she could still be here.

So, she leaned back against the chair, her shoulder just barely brushing against Haruka’s.

“I don’t think we have to figure it all out right away,” she murmured. “Maybe we just... start small.”

Haruka didn’t answer.

But she didn’t pull away either.

And maybe that was enough.

-----

Minori sighed, leaning back in her chair, staring at the ceiling like it could somehow make this conversation easier.

“I didn’t come here because of my family,” she admitted, voice lower than usual. “They didn’t want me here. They thought I could get better at home.”

Haruka turned her head slightly, listening.

Minori laughed, but it was empty. “But my ex? She thought otherwise. She was the one who sent me here.”

Haruka blinked. “Your ex?”

“Yeah.” Minori tilted her head, eyes unfocused. “She told everyone she was just looking out for me, that it was for my own good. That I needed help.” Her fingers drummed absently against her knee, a nervous tic. “And, like... maybe she was right. I wasn’t doing great. But still... I don’t know. It just felt—”

“Wrong?” Haruka finished for her.

Minori exhaled, her hands clenching into fists. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment.

“My family fought back,” she added after a beat. “They didn’t want me to stay. But, y’know—everyone else said it was for the best.” Her lips curled into a wry smile. “And maybe it is. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?”

Haruka didn’t know what to say to that.

She wanted to ask—what was your ex like? What did she do to you? Why did she have that much control over your life? But she didn’t. Because Haruka knew what it was like to not want to say too much.

So instead, she just sat with her.

-----

Minori's gaze softened, and her voice dropped, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “She was... sweet at first. I thought I finally found someone who understood me. Someone who saw me.”

Haruka didn’t interrupt, sensing this wasn’t an easy thing to share.

Minori continued, her eyes now staring at her hands, picking at her nails absentmindedly. “But after a while, I started to notice things. Small things, like the way she’d brush off my feelings, or how if I ever got too emotional or upset, she’d say I was ‘overreacting’ or ‘too dramatic.’”

She swallowed, her throat tight. “I didn’t think much of it, though. I thought maybe I was just... messed up, or something. Maybe I was the problem, not her.”

Haruka shifted in her seat, unsure of what to say, but her heart ached for Minori. She’d been there.

Minori exhaled shakily, her voice cracking. “But it wasn’t just that. She started telling me what I should be doing, how I should be acting. She’d make decisions for me, and I just... I didn’t even know how to disagree. She’d make me feel so guilty if I didn’t go along with it.” Her voice turned bitter. “And then she told me I was 'too much' for her. That I needed to ‘get fixed.’ That’s when she started talking about this place.”

A tear slid down her cheek, but she didn’t bother wiping it away. “I thought I was losing her, so I tried harder. But she kept pulling away, and I didn’t even realize it until it was too late.”

Haruka stayed silent, letting Minori speak.

Minori looked up at her then, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and hurt. “The worst part was, I let her control me. I let her tell me that I was the problem. And then... then she sent me here, without even giving me a choice. I didn’t even fight it. Because I thought maybe she was right. That maybe if I wasn’t here, she’d leave me completely.”

She wiped her cheek roughly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I feel stupid for it now. I feel stupid for letting someone have that much power over me.”

Haruka didn’t know how to comfort her—words never felt like enough—but she leaned forward, her hand resting gently on Minori’s shoulder.

“You’re not stupid,” Haruka said softly. “She was the one who was wrong. Not you.”

Minori turned her head slightly, meeting Haruka’s eyes. There was something in her gaze—something fragile—but for the first time in a long while, she didn’t look like she was breaking.

“I’m trying to believe that,” Minori said, her voice small but steady. “But it’s hard.”

“I know.”

Minori smiled weakly, glancing down at their hands. “I guess we both have our stuff to work through, huh?”

Haruka nodded, the corners of her mouth tugging up slightly. “Yeah. But we’ll get through it. Together.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Minori allowed herself to believe it might actually be true.

Minori shifted in her chair, the weight of her past still lingering in her voice as she continued. “At first, everything felt like a dream. She was so kind to me—understanding, patient. She made me feel like I was the only one who mattered. I thought I’d finally found someone who would care about me like I was worth something.”

Haruka watched her carefully, her heart aching for Minori. She could hear the fondness in her voice, but it was tainted with something else—pain.

Minori paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, her voice quiet, like she was letting herself relive it. “But... after a while, she started changing. Little things, you know? She’d tell me what to wear, who I should talk to, what I should think. At first, I thought it was just her way of showing she cared. Like, she was looking out for me.”

Her fingers tightened into fists. “But then, when I didn’t agree with her, she’d get upset. Not in a normal way, either. She’d make me feel like I was the one messing things up. That if I just listened to her, everything would be better.”

Haruka didn’t say anything, her throat tight.

Minori looked up at her, and there was a distant, pained look in her eyes. “She was my FP, Haruka. I thought she was everything. I thought her love was the only kind that mattered. And because of that, I let her control me.”

She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “I thought it was love. I thought if I just followed her rules, everything would be fine. But... it wasn’t love. It was manipulation. She started to isolate me from everyone else. She’d tell me no one else cared about me the way she did. And I believed it. Because I needed her. I couldn’t see the truth through the fog of my own feelings.”

Haruka’s chest tightened, but she stayed quiet. Minori needed to speak, needed to let it out.

“I didn’t even realize how far she’d gone until it was too late. She was my FP, my world. She was all I had left. And by the time she sent me here... I was so twisted up in her that I didn’t know what to think anymore.” Minori’s voice cracked slightly, and she wiped at her face, frustrated with herself. “I thought I was weak, that if I wasn’t with her, I’d lose everything. But now I know... that wasn’t love. It was control.”

Haruka reached out again, this time her hand resting firmly on Minori’s. The contact was simple, but it spoke volumes.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Haruka whispered.

Minori nodded, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to forgive myself for letting it go on for so long. But I’m trying.” She gave Haruka a half-smile, tired but real. “I’m trying to see it for what it was.”

“You’re strong, Minori,” Haruka said, squeezing her hand. “You survived it. That counts for something.”

Minori smiled softly, the first real smile Haruka had seen in a long time. “Thanks, Haruka. I think... maybe I’m starting to believe that.”

-----

As the days went by, Minori found herself growing more and more attached to Haruka. It wasn’t something she planned, but it seemed inevitable. Haruka, with her quiet sadness and her rare, genuine smiles, became a constant in Minori’s life. She couldn’t help but feel drawn to her—like a lifeline in the midst of her storm.

But with that attachment came a gnawing feeling in the back of her mind, a sense of unease that she couldn’t shake.

She had been here before, after all. She knew what it felt like to need someone so desperately that they became everything to you. And as much as she tried to ignore it, Haruka was starting to fill that role in her life.

Minori was starting to rely on her too much.

Every time Haruka smiled at her, every time they shared a moment of silence, Minori felt her heart race. She wanted to be there for Haruka, wanted to offer her support—but a part of her was afraid. Afraid that she was falling into the same trap again.

She didn’t want Haruka to be her FP. She didn’t want to need someone like that, not again. She knew what it was like to let someone take control of your life, to twist your feelings until you didn’t know where they ended and the other person began.

But it was happening again. Slowly, without her even realizing it.

The guilt weighed heavy on her chest, and she found herself pulling away at times, trying to distance herself from Haruka. But no matter how much she tried to fight it, the pull was too strong. Every time Haruka reached out to her, Minori found herself drawn in again, unable to resist.

And so she stayed close. Too close, maybe.

She tried to convince herself it was okay. That it was just friendship, that Haruka needed her too. But deep down, Minori knew the truth. She didn’t just need Haruka. She wanted her. More than she should.

And that scared her.

“I’m sorry,” Minori muttered under her breath one night as she sat on her bed, her back to the door. The words came out more like a whisper than anything else. “I’m sorry for putting all of this on you, Haruka. You don’t deserve to be my FP.”

The thought of it made her stomach turn, and yet, every time Haruka spoke to her, every time their hands brushed or their eyes met, Minori couldn’t help but feel her heart tighten.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

-----

Minori sat quietly in the corner of the common room, her eyes fixed on Haruka across the room. Haruka was talking to another patient, but it was clear that communication wasn’t flowing as smoothly as it should. Her words were hesitant, scattered, and though she was trying, there was something distant in her expression, as if the conversation was a battle she wasn’t sure how to win.

Minori’s heart tightened, the familiar sting of guilt and helplessness clawing at her chest. She wanted to reach out, wanted to step in and help, but she knew she had no right to make herself the one Haruka would rely on. Not again.

It wasn’t just the conversation. Minori had seen it in the way Haruka interacted with the staff too, the way she avoided meals or only picked at her food, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she tried to force herself to eat. The depression was still so heavy on her, weighing her down, and Minori could see it in her posture—how Haruka’s shoulders were perpetually hunched, as though the world was a burden too great to bear.

Haruka was struggling, and Minori, despite the immense ache in her chest, couldn’t help but watch with a bittersweet sense of longing.

It was strange—watching someone like Haruka, who had been so independent in her idol life, now floundering with the most basic things. Haruka wasn’t the same confident, bold person she had seen on stage. Here, in the hospital, she was fragile in a way that Minori couldn’t ignore. Every time Haruka failed to make eye contact with another patient or struggled to sit through a group session, Minori’s heart broke for her, even though she couldn’t let herself be the one to pick up the pieces.

And yet, despite all of this, Minori couldn’t bring herself to pull away. She wanted to help, to fix it somehow. She wanted to wrap her arms around Haruka and promise her that everything would be okay, even though she knew it wouldn’t be. She knew she couldn’t do that again. She couldn’t make someone her whole world and let them carry that weight.

But it was so hard to watch Haruka suffering and not do anything.

Minori wanted to reach out, but the guilt gnawed at her. Was it fair to become someone else’s FP, knowing how much harm it had caused in her own life? She couldn’t answer that. Every time she saw Haruka struggle, she wanted to break the walls she’d put up between them, to get closer, but every step toward Haruka felt like another step toward drowning in her own emotions.

Minori took a deep breath, her fingers twisting in her lap. She could feel the shift in the room, the heaviness of Haruka’s silence, and it pulled at Minori in ways she didn’t want to admit.

The worst part? It felt like the more she watched Haruka struggle, the more Minori realized how much she needed her—how much she relied on her presence to feel grounded. And it was terrifying. She was starting to fall into the same pattern, but this time, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face the consequences.

Maybe Haruka didn’t even need her like that. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. The desire to be close, to be needed, was something Minori couldn’t escape.

Her eyes flickered to Haruka, who was now sitting by herself, picking at the food in front of her, barely taking a bite. The heaviness of the moment sank deep into Minori’s bones, and for the first time since meeting Haruka, she felt like she truly understood what it was like to watch someone slowly fade away.

-----

It was late—one of those quiet nights where the whole hospital seemed to settle into a heavy, oppressive stillness. Haruka had just finished a session, her body still weighed down by exhaustion, her mind a mess of thoughts that refused to quiet. She was sitting on her bed, staring blankly at the wall when the sudden, sharp sound of an alarm broke through the silence.

Her heart jolted in her chest, and her stomach twisted in that familiar knot of anxiety. The alarms blared, deafeningly loud, and Haruka could hear the scattered, hurried steps of the staff rushing through the hallways. This wasn’t unusual; the alarms had gone off before, a usual occurrence during certain manic episodes that patients had. But tonight felt different. There was a tension in the air, something more intense than the usual routine.

Haruka instinctively pressed her palms to her ears, the noise almost unbearable, but then she heard the shouting. The quick, urgent voices from outside her door, the panic clear in every word.

“Minori! Minori, stop!”

Haruka’s heart skipped a beat. That voice—it was one of the nurses, but it sounded so frantic. Her breath caught in her throat.

She knew what this was.

Minori was having another episode.

But this time—something felt off. Haruka could feel it in her bones, the weight of the moment pressing against her. She stood up, her legs shaking as she made her way to the door. She knew better than to get involved—she knew the rules, and she knew how dangerous these manic episodes could be. But she couldn’t help herself.

Minori’s energy had always been overwhelming, but this time… it was different.

Haruka reached the hallway, standing frozen as the chaos unfolded before her eyes. Minori was there, her body wild with movement, her hands tearing at anything she could grab, the nurses trying desperately to restrain her. She was thrashing, shouting incoherently, her face twisted in desperation and anger.

And then Haruka saw it. The blood. Minori’s arm was covered in it—fresh, bright, the sight of it sending a cold wave through her body. Minori had hurt herself again. Worse than before.

The staff was struggling to hold her down, and Haruka felt her heart break at the sight. Minori was no longer just the girl she had met in this hospital, the one with her big smiles and nervous energy. This Minori was violent, unpredictable, and terrifying in ways Haruka had never seen.

Haruka felt paralyzed, the air thick with the overwhelming sense of helplessness. She wanted to run to Minori, to pull her out of this madness, but she knew that she couldn’t. The staff was already handling the situation as best they could, though they were clearly overwhelmed. And in this moment, Haruka felt the sharp sting of guilt again. She had known Minori was struggling, but this—this was something she wasn’t prepared for.

The alarms rang on, the noise like a hammer against her skull, but it was Minori’s cries that pierced through it all. Haruka could hear the pain in her voice, the raw desperation, and it tore her apart.

“Minori…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. Her heart was racing, her chest tight as she watched the nurses finally manage to pin Minori to the floor, securing her arms and legs to prevent further harm. The blood was still fresh, and Haruka felt the bile rise in her throat.

She wanted to help. But in this moment, she didn’t know how.

-----

Minori’s POV:

The world was spinning, and the noise… it was too loud. The alarm blared, louder than anything, ringing in her ears, making her skin crawl. Her breath was coming in sharp, panicked gasps, and her body wouldn’t stop moving. She couldn’t stop it. She was everywhere, her hands clawing at the air, at the walls, at anything she could find. She had to get out, had to do something—she couldn’t stand still. Not like this. Not when everything was falling apart.

Her hands—why did they feel so numb and hot? The sting was there, sharp and unforgiving, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

There was too much in her head. She couldn’t hear herself think, couldn’t hear anything but the sound of her own frantic cries. But there it was—the pain, a constant reminder. The blood—why was it red? Why was it everywhere? It was mocking her. Every drop that hit the floor felt like a punishment. She didn’t even care. Nothing mattered anymore.

And then she heard them. The voices. The staff, their hands gripping her, trying to hold her still. They were shouting, panicked, desperate. But it didn’t matter. They couldn’t stop her. She was already too far gone.

"Minori! Minori, stop!" The nurse’s voice was sharp, but Minori couldn’t make sense of the words. They sounded like they came from a faraway place. Her vision blurred, and her body jerked, her hands—her hands—just couldn’t stop. They were trembling, the stinging pain from her cuts not even registering in her mind anymore.

And then, a voice. Haruka’s voice. A whisper in the midst of the chaos. “Minori…”

Her chest tightened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, something inside of her faltered. But it didn’t matter. Haruka couldn’t help her. No one could. She couldn’t stop now.

Haruka’s POV:

The scene before her was chaos, and yet it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. The shrill sound of the alarms still echoed in her ears, but all she could focus on was Minori.

Minori’s hands—those hands that had once fidgeted so nervously, those hands that had grabbed at Haruka with energy and excitement—now looked alien. They were clawing at the air, tearing at anything within reach, and Haruka felt an icy fear grip her chest. The blood. The blood was everywhere. It was fresh, coating Minori’s arms, staining the floor with a deep crimson mockery. The sharp, stinging scent of it hit Haruka like a punch to the gut, and she wanted to look away, but she couldn’t.

Her heart was breaking in real-time. Minori’s face was contorted with something Haruka had never seen before—rage, pain, desperation. The manic energy that had always been so infectious was gone, replaced with something darker. Something that felt uncontrollable.

“Minori, please!” the nurse shouted, her voice full of panic, but Minori wasn’t listening. She was already lost, spiraling faster than anyone could catch her. Haruka could only watch, helpless, as the nurses restrained her, pinning her to the ground, their hands trying to keep her from hurting herself.

Minori’s screams, raw and ragged, tore through the air. Haruka winced, feeling every single one of them deep in her chest. The pain in Minori’s voice was enough to make Haruka’s own body tremble. But she was frozen. Paralyzed.

Haruka had seen manic episodes before, but never like this. Never this violent. Never this desperate. And as Minori’s cries echoed in the hallway, Haruka felt like the walls were closing in on her. She wanted to run to her, to pull her away from all of this—but she couldn’t. She couldn’t get through the staff, couldn’t break the barrier that had been set up.

“Minori… please,” Haruka whispered again, her voice almost lost in the chaos. She wasn’t sure if Minori could hear her, if she even knew she was there. It didn’t matter. The sight of Minori, her body thrashing uncontrollably, was too much.

Haruka pressed her palms to her face, feeling the hot rush of tears she hadn’t realized she’d been holding back. Her chest felt tight, suffocating under the weight of it all.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Minori wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The blood, the violence—it was all too much. Too much to bear. Too much to handle. Haruka couldn’t understand how this had happened. How had they gone from casual conversations, from small moments of connection, to this?

And all Haruka could do was watch as the nurses continued to restrain Minori, trying to stop her from hurting herself. Minori’s violent cries pierced the air, and Haruka felt herself breaking.

This wasn’t just another manic episode. This was something far worse than she had ever imagined.

-----

The sunlight was dim as it filtered through the small window, the soft light unable to lift the weight that pressed against Haruka’s chest. She had barely slept, the image of Minori’s manic breakdown playing on a loop in her mind. The sounds of her cries, the blood—everything still felt so vivid.

Haruka lay there, staring up at the ceiling, unsure if she could bring herself to get up. But the thought of Minori’s violent outburst lingered, gnawing at her.

She had to know if Minori was okay.

When she finally dragged herself out of bed and stumbled to the door, she expected to see Minori outside in the hallway, maybe talking to one of the nurses or sitting in the common room, trying to relax. But when Haruka reached the nurse’s station, there was an immediate tension in the air.

One of the nurses was talking in hushed tones with another, and they paused when Haruka approached.

“Excuse me,” Haruka said softly, her throat tight. “Where’s Minori?”

The nurse exchanged a quick glance with her colleague before answering. “Minori was transferred to another block for her safety. We’ve decided it’s best for her to be in a more secure area for now.”

Haruka’s heart sank. She couldn’t stop the wave of panic that surged through her chest. Another block? A more secure area?

She didn’t need to ask what that meant. It meant that Minori was being isolated. The manic episodes had escalated to the point where the hospital felt it was too dangerous for her to remain where she was.

But it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

Haruka swallowed hard, her chest tightening as the nurse’s words echoed in her mind. She hadn’t been able to stop Minori from spiraling the night before, and now—now she was in another block. Haruka felt completely helpless. She had been so caught up in her own struggles that she couldn’t help Minori when she needed it most.

The nurse, sensing Haruka’s distress, offered her a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard, but Minori will be receiving more intensive care there. It’s for her safety, and for the safety of others. We’ll make sure she’s getting the support she needs.”

But the nurse’s reassurance didn’t help. Haruka just nodded numbly, unable to find the words to respond.

She turned away, her feet carrying her back to her room. She was alone now. Alone with the crushing guilt and the feeling that she had failed Minori. The sense of helplessness that had consumed her the night before had grown even stronger.

As she reached her room, she sank onto the bed, her fingers digging into the sheets as she tried to steady her breathing. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt the hot tears on her face.

Minori had been sent away, out of her reach, and Haruka couldn’t shake the thought that she’d never be able to help her.

But even with the sorrow heavy in her chest, Haruka knew she couldn’t give up on Minori. She had to try. She had to find a way to reach her, to be there for her. No matter how hard it seemed.

...

The coldness of the new room was suffocating. The walls were bare, the air stale with an overwhelming sense of isolation. It didn’t matter that the nurses had assured her she’d be safe here—she hated it. She hated the sterile, suffocating feeling of being confined to this room, to this place.

Her hands shook as she sat on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, the blood from last night still faintly staining her clothes. It felt like the world was pressing in on her, and she couldn’t escape it.

Her mind was scattered, racing with thoughts she couldn’t control, and every inch of her body felt like it was vibrating with energy she couldn’t release. But it was different now. She was in a different block. Alone.

She had been alone before. But this? This was different.

Haruka wasn’t here. She wasn’t going to knock on the door, smile at her, and talk about idols or the weird things they had in common. She wasn’t going to listen to Minori’s rambling, her manic energy, and laugh along with her. Minori missed that. She missed the small moments.

And it made her realize, with a painful jolt, that she had let herself get attached. Too attached.

She had done the same thing again—let herself become dependent, let herself find comfort in someone who would only leave her when things got too hard.

Minori pressed her face into her knees, biting back the tears she could feel swelling behind her eyes. She had done this to herself. She always did this.

But deep down, she knew she couldn’t stop herself. Not now. Not when everything felt so out of control.

-----

Haruka’s POV:

The days felt heavier now, each one blending into the next. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the isolation, or if it was the thought of Minori being in a completely different block. It felt like something was missing from the day-to-day routine of the hospital, a space that used to feel occupied by the noise Minori brought.

Haruka’s world had become smaller again. She found herself retreating into herself more and more, silent, withdrawn, just like she used to be before coming here. She could still hear the echoes of her past in her mind, the ones that told her she wasn't worth reaching out to, that she was too broken to matter. And now, with Minori gone, the silence in her own head had become louder than ever.

Walking on tiptoe had become an unconscious habit. She didn’t even know why anymore. Maybe it was the anxiety—the feeling that at any moment, everything would crash down around her. So she walked carefully, never making a sound, holding her penguin plush tightly in her hands. It was the only thing she could rely on, the only constant in a world that was slipping through her fingers.

Sometimes she would sit in the common area, alone, staring at the others around her. They talked, they interacted, they lived. But Haruka couldn’t bring herself to join in. She didn’t have the energy for it. She didn’t have the will.

The only thing that kept her going was the thought of Minori. She thought about her all the time, wondered how she was holding up. If she was getting the help she needed, or if she was still spiraling.

It wasn’t the same without her.

---

Minori’s POV:

The room was quieter now. Too quiet. Minori had everything to herself, no more chattering voices, no one to distract her from her own spiraling thoughts. The doctors and nurses monitored her from a distance, making sure she wasn’t a danger to herself, but the space was empty. She had no one to talk to, no one to keep her grounded.

At first, it was a relief. The constant noise of others had been overwhelming, and now she could rest without worrying about anyone else. But that relief faded quickly.

Now, it just felt lonely. And it wasn’t the kind of loneliness where you could cry and move on. It was the kind that sunk deep into your bones, making you feel like you were drowning in it.

Minori couldn’t even escape into her thoughts anymore. They were too loud, too frantic. She missed Haruka. She missed the small moments they shared, even if Haruka had started avoiding her. At least she had felt real, like she was alive when Haruka was around.

But now?

Now, it felt like a hollow space where her heart used to be.

Her mind raced, spiraling in every direction. The need to reach out, to contact Haruka, to apologize for everything that had happened, gnawed at her. But she couldn’t. Not when she was stuck in here. Not when she could barely hold herself together.

There was no escape from the crushing weight of her own thoughts. She didn’t know how to get out of it, how to stop herself from falling apart further.

So she just kept going. Kept pushing forward, because that was all she knew how to do. Even if it meant continuing to push away the people who had tried to help her. Even if it meant isolating herself even more.

---

Haruka’s POV:

The days blurred into one another, but Haruka didn’t have the strength to keep track of them. It didn’t matter anyway. Each day was the same. She was still here, stuck in the same loop of depression, stuck with the same suffocating thoughts that held her down.

She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong with her, that she wasn’t doing enough. And every time she thought about Minori, it was like a weight pressing harder on her chest.

But today was different.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her penguin plush cradled in her arms. The room felt emptier than it ever had before. She needed to do something, anything, to break out of the cycle she had gotten herself into. She had to try. She couldn’t just let herself slip away into nothing.

But even with all her resolve, her hands trembled as she thought about Minori—about how she hadn’t been able to help her. About how the last time she saw her, Minori had been in the middle of another manic episode.

Haruka knew the staff had moved Minori to another block, and it made her heart ache to think that Minori was so far away now.

She wanted to help her. She wanted to do something, but she didn’t know what.

---

Minori’s POV:

It was late. The lights outside flickered through the window, casting long shadows across the walls of her new room. The quiet was unbearable. It had been days since she’d seen another patient. The isolation was starting to get to her.

She pulled the blankets around her, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn’t escape from the thoughts, the anger, the frustration, the loneliness. The emptiness.

She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to feel so helpless.

She just wanted to go back. Back to before everything got so twisted and painful. Back to when she had Haruka to talk to, to be there with her. Back when things made sense.

But now?

Now, she was alone. And she didn’t know how much longer she could take it.

---

The weight of silence wrapped itself around both of them as they each tried to exist in a world that had stripped away their connections, their stability. Haruka, silent and still, trapped in the space between wanting to reach out and the fear of doing too much. Minori, frantic and alone, longing for the presence of someone who could understand her, someone who could make the loneliness bearable.

-----

Haruka had never begged for anything before. Not like this. Not with this much desperation clinging to her voice, making her feel so small and vulnerable.

For an entire week, she had pleaded with the nurses, her usually quiet and withdrawn demeanor breaking into something almost frantic. She needed to see Minori. She needed to know she was okay.

She had done everything—followed every rule, sat through every session, even ate more than she normally would (even when her stomach twisted with discomfort). All so they would give her permission. All so they would let her see Minori again.

And finally, after what felt like forever, they agreed.

---

The moment she stepped into Minori’s new block, Haruka felt… off.

It wasn’t that the place was unsettling—it was just strange. The walls were covered in pastel colors, soft blues and yellows, decorated with stickers and childlike drawings. Stuffed animals sat on the chairs, neatly arranged like a collection, and there were colorful blankets folded in the corners of the room.

It didn’t feel like a hospital block. It felt like a playroom.

And the strangest part?

Minori liked it.

She was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, hugging a plush rabbit tightly to her chest, a small smile on her face. She looked so at home here, as if this was where she belonged.

Haruka hesitated at the door, gripping her own penguin plush with clammy hands.

“…Minori?” she finally spoke, her voice quieter than she intended.

Minori’s head snapped up at the sound of her name, and for a moment, she just stared, as if processing that Haruka was actually there.

Then, her smile widened, eyes lighting up in that familiar, bubbly way.

“Haruka!” she practically threw the rabbit aside and scrambled to her feet, running over to her like they hadn’t seen each other in years.

Haruka barely had time to react before Minori threw her arms around her in a tight hug.

For a second, Haruka froze.

She wasn’t used to this—being held like this, being greeted with so much warmth. It felt overwhelming. Too much. But at the same time… it felt grounding, in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Minori was still Minori. Even after everything.

“…I missed you,” Minori mumbled against her shoulder.

Haruka swallowed. The lump in her throat was unbearable.

“…Yeah,” she whispered back. “Me too.”

They stood there for a moment, just holding onto each other.

And for the first time in weeks, something inside Haruka felt just a little bit lighter.

-----

Minori pulled away from the hug first, but not by much. She still held onto Haruka’s arms like she was scared she’d disappear if she let go.

“…It was lonely without you,” Minori admitted, voice soft but honest.

Haruka tensed. She wasn’t good at this—at talking about emotions so openly. But she couldn’t lie, not now.

“…I missed you too,” she said, barely above a whisper.

And then—

“…Eh?”

They blinked at each other, realization hitting them at the same time.

They had spoken in sync.

Minori’s face turned red first, her cheeks practically glowing, while Haruka’s ears burned as she stiffened.

Minori let out a choked laugh, pressing her hands to her face. “E-Ehhh? What was that?!”

Haruka, on the other hand, turned away, avoiding eye contact. “D-Don’t say it like that…!”

For a moment, the awkwardness settled between them—then Minori started giggling, and Haruka, despite everything, found herself exhaling a small, amused sigh.

“Ahhh, I can’t believe it… We really are the same, huh?” Minori teased, poking Haruka’s cheek playfully.

Haruka just grumbled in response, but there was no real irritation behind it.

The moment passed, and soon, the two settled into something more comfortable—something that felt almost… normal.

With only two hours together, they decided to make the most of it.

First, Minori excitedly dug through a small plastic basket she had in her room and pulled out a pack of those little acne patches shaped like stars and hearts.

“Let’s put these on!” she chirped.

Haruka hesitated. “But… I don’t have acne.”

Minori gasped dramatically. “That doesn’t matter! They’re cute! Here, hold still—”

Before Haruka could protest, Minori carefully stuck a tiny pink heart patch on her cheek.

Haruka blinked.

“…You look cute,” Minori said without thinking.

Haruka nearly dropped the patch in her hand. “H-Hah?!?”

Minori giggled, ignoring Haruka’s flustered reaction as she put a matching star one on her own face.

Next, they found some markers and started doodling on paper Minori had stashed away.

Minori, as expected, doodled silly little creatures with big smiles and sparkles around them, her ADHD making her switch between ideas every few minutes. Haruka, meanwhile, hesitated before drawing a small penguin.

Minori gasped when she noticed. “Wait… that’s so cute? You’re so good at this, Haruka!!”

Haruka’s face burned again. “…It’s just a doodle.”

“Still! It’s cute!!”

After that, they wandered the block together. It was eerily empty, with only the occasional nurse passing by. Minori explained how it was “for her own safety” since her last episode had been… worse than before.

Haruka didn’t respond to that.

Instead, she grabbed Minori’s hand without thinking, squeezing it just once before letting go.

Minori’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled—softer this time, with none of her usual exaggerated energy.

They didn’t talk about it.

But in that moment, neither of them felt quite as lonely.

-----

The two hours passed faster than either of them wanted.

A nurse eventually walked in, giving them a polite but firm reminder that visiting time was over.

Minori groaned dramatically, flopping onto her bed. “Ehhh?! Already? But we were just getting started!”

Haruka, still sitting on the floor, looked down at their scattered doodles—the little penguins, the smiling stars, Minori’s scribbled hearts surrounding a poorly drawn Haruka (which Minori had proudly labeled Harutan!!).

She didn’t want to leave either.

Minori sighed, propping herself up on her elbows. “Well… at least we had fun, right?”

Haruka nodded. “Yeah.”

“…So you’ll visit again, right?” Minori’s voice wavered, just slightly, but she forced a grin anyway. “I mean, you did fight for a whole week just to see me, so…”

Haruka glanced at her, hesitating.

That grin. That over-the-top energy, the way she bounced from topic to topic, never sitting still. Haruka had seen it before. It wasn’t just Minori being bubbly.

She was manic again.

Haruka knew what came after this. She had heard it.

Still, she forced herself to answer.

“…Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’ll visit.”

Minori beamed at that.

And yet, as Haruka was led out of the block, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at her chest.

---

That night, Haruka found herself unable to sleep.

The silence of her own block was suffocating. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably—whether from hunger or anxiety, she didn’t know anymore.

She stared at the little heart patch Minori had stuck on her earlier. She hadn’t taken it off yet.

She sighed, rolling onto her side, pulling her knees to her chest.

Minori is okay.

She’s still Minori.

She was smiling today.

But Haruka had seen her during the crash before.

And something told her… it was coming again.

She just didn’t know when.

-----

Haruka’s uneasy feeling didn’t fade.

The next few days were quiet. Too quiet.

Minori had always been loud—her energy filled up every space she was in, for better or worse. Even when she wasn’t physically there, she lingered, her presence impossible to ignore.

But now, Haruka could barely hear anything from the other block.

She asked the nurses about her visits. They told her Minori was “adjusting” and that she “needed rest.”

Haruka didn’t believe them.

---

On the fifth day, Haruka woke up to the sound of alarms.

Her chest clenched instantly, a sick sense of déjà vu washing over her.

This wasn’t new.

It had happened before.

It was happening again.

Haruka curled up tighter, hands pressing over her ears. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to know.

But she did know.

She knew exactly who it was.

Even through the thick walls, she could feel Minori’s energy—wild, uncontrolled, spiraling. The yells of the staff, the piercing screams, the crash of something breaking—

It didn’t stop.

Haruka squeezed her eyes shut.

She stayed that way, locked in place, until—

Silence.

Too sudden. Too complete.

Haruka’s stomach dropped.

The alarms shut off. The voices faded. The quiet stretched out, long and cold.

She already knew what that meant.

Minori was gone.

Not gone gone—but she had been moved. Again.

Haruka stayed in bed. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t react. She just stared at the ceiling, empty.

Just like before.

---

The next morning, the confirmation came.

Minori had been transferred to a stricter block. She wasn’t allowed visitors.

Haruka felt something inside her crack.

No more silly doodles. No more heart-shaped acne patches. No more stupidly loud laughs and annoying, endless chatter.

She was alone again.

Just like before.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.

She just sat there, silent, holding onto a crumpled piece of paper with a little doodled penguin.

Her heart felt unbearably heavy.

She should’ve seen this coming.

She did see this coming.

And yet, it still hurt like hell.

-----

Minori laid on the stiff mattress in her isolated ward, staring at the ceiling. She felt… light. Numb. The new meds worked, she supposed.

Everything felt dull, like she was floating just outside her own body. Like a dream she couldn’t wake up from.

She giggled to herself. For no reason, really. It just… bubbled up. She didn’t even know why.

Maybe this was better.

Maybe she was better like this.

The nurses said the meds helped. She didn’t scream or fight anymore. She didn’t throw things. She didn’t get angry.

She just… sat. Smiled. Obeyed.

Sometimes, she even played along with the childish decorations in her room, touching the little plushies they left for her, coloring in pages like she was five years old.

She hated it.

But at least it didn’t hurt.

At least she wasn’t crying herself to sleep.

…But then again—

Was that really any better?

---

Meanwhile, Haruka sat curled up in her own bed, hugging her knees to her chest.

The lights were dim. The air felt stale.

It had been days since she last saw Minori.

And she hated to admit it, but—

She missed her.

She missed the rambling. The stupid little jokes. The warmth.

She missed how Minori saw her.

Because no one else did.

Even before she was here, no one really saw her.

They saw the idol. The perfect, graceful Haruka. The ex-ASRUN member. The one who had it all.

No one saw the exhausted, hollow-eyed girl who barely ate.

No one saw the child who never really learned how to make friends.

No one saw the girl who spent hours memorizing scripts, learning what to say, how to act, how to be normal.

…Except Minori.

Minori, who had been there all along.

Haruka closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against her knees.

She did remember her.

Minori had been at her fansigns. Her concerts.

Always there, always smiling, always cheering the loudest.

Her biggest fan.

And now?

Now she was locked in some medicated haze, barely even herself.

Haruka clenched her jaw.

She hated it.

She hated this place.

She hated how they treated people like Minori.

She hated that she felt so damn helpless.

She curled in tighter, nails digging into her arms.

Maybe if she had been better—been stronger—Minori wouldn’t be suffering like this.

Maybe if she had reached out sooner—if she hadn’t been so afraid—

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Haruka squeezed her eyes shut.

She wanted to see her again.

And this time—

She wouldn’t run away.

-----

Minori giggled as she poked at the star-shaped stickers on her arm.

She had put them there earlier. Or maybe a nurse had. She wasn’t really sure.

Everything was… slow. Blurry.

She felt soft, like a little kid again.

Like things weren’t supposed to hurt anymore.

She kicked her legs over the edge of the bed, staring up at the colorful decorations they had put in her room. The stars, the clouds, the silly little motivational posters.

It was funny.

They thought treating her like a child would fix her.

Like slapping on a band-aid would stop the bleeding.

She giggled again.

Then, just as quickly, she frowned.

Her chest felt tight.

Something was missing.

Someone.

Haruka.

Minori pressed her hands against her face, inhaling slowly.

It was stupid.

She shouldn’t miss her this much.

But she did.

God, she did.

Her hands trembled.

It wasn’t fair.

Why did everyone always leave?

Minori sniffled, biting her lip.

No. No crying.

She was fine.

She had to be fine.

She had to be—

-----

Minori sat in her usual spot—a soft, round beanbag in the corner of her overly bright room, surrounded by plushies and scattered coloring pages.

Haruka knew where she’d be before she even stepped inside.

She knew where Minori left her things, where she liked to curl up when she got tired. She memorized it all, even if she had only visited this block twice.

Minori looked up as the door opened, her eyes hazy but lighting up the moment she saw Haruka.

"Haruka-chan!" she chirped, sitting up quickly.

Haruka hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward.

Minori still looked… off. Fuzzier around the edges, like she wasn’t completely there.

But she was still Minori.

And Haruka… Haruka had missed her.

Minori grinned and patted the spot beside her. "Come sit with me! We can color, or—or I have stickers! Oh! And guess what? They let me have some new markers—"

She stopped suddenly, eyes searching Haruka’s face.

“…You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Haruka exhaled slowly, stepping closer. “I should be asking you that.”

Minori giggled, swinging her legs. “I’m fine! The meds make me all floaty, but it’s fine! They say it’s good for me, so I just—”

“Minori.”

Haruka’s voice was quiet, but firm.

Minori’s smile faltered.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then, Minori sighed dramatically, flopping onto the beanbag.

“…Okay, maybe I missed you,” she admitted, pouting a little.

Haruka sat beside her, resting her arms on her knees. “Yeah. I missed you too.”

Minori blinked, cheeks dusting pink. “Y-You did?”

Haruka nodded, staring down at her hands.

“I thought about you a lot,” she murmured. “More than I should have.”

The room was silent.

Then—

A quiet, breathless giggle.

Haruka turned, confused, only to see Minori biting her lip, eyes shining with something warm and embarrassed.

“What?” Haruka asked warily.

Minori shook her head, grinning like an idiot. “Nothing. Just… you thought about me.”

Haruka felt her ears heat up. “Don’t make it weird.”

Minori giggled again, then leaned against her shoulder without warning.

Haruka stiffened but didn’t pull away.

“…I think about you too,” Minori whispered. “All the time.”

Haruka swallowed.

Her chest felt tight—but not in the way she was used to.

It wasn’t the usual weight of dread, of exhaustion.

It was something softer. Warmer.

Something terrifying.

She exhaled shakily, staring at the wall. “…Minori.”

“Mm?”

“Don’t—” She hesitated. “Don’t make me your new favorite person.”

Minori went very still.

“…I can’t help it,” she admitted quietly.

Haruka’s heart ached.

She wanted to let Minori lean on her.

She wanted to be there.

But she was terrified of being the only thing holding her up.

She was terrified of what would happen if she failed.

Minori sighed, closing her eyes. “It’s okay. I know you’re scared.”

Haruka clenched her fists.

Then, finally—

“…Just let me stay,” she murmured. “Even if it’s just for a while.”

Minori smiled sleepily, still leaning against her.

“…Okay.”

Haruka didn’t know what this was.

She didn’t know if it was love, or something like love, or just two broken people trying to keep each other afloat.

But for now, it was enough.

For now, she let herself rest.

-----

It wasn’t something planned. It wasn’t something spoken. It was just—

A moment.

A quiet moment between them, alone for the first time in what felt like forever.

The day had been long. Group therapy, doctor check-ins, nurses giving them those looks. Haruka was exhausted. Minori was exhausted.

But right now, they were just sitting. Side by side on the common room couch, the dim evening light spilling in through the barred windows. Minori's head rested against Haruka’s shoulder. Haruka didn’t move away.

Neither of them spoke.

Minori’s fingers curled slightly, her pinky brushing against Haruka’s hand. Testing.

Haruka didn’t pull back.

Minori exhaled, like she had been holding her breath, and slowly—so, so slowly—she shifted.

Their hands, already close, finally intertwined.

Haruka swallowed. Minori's hand was warm. Too warm. Like she was nervous.

She wasn’t the only one.

Haruka turned her head slightly, just enough to see Minori’s face.

She was looking down at their hands. Not speaking. Not grinning or cracking a joke or laughing nervously.

Just looking.

Like this was something she had been waiting for.

Like this was something she wanted.

Haruka’s chest ached.

This girl, this bright, chaotic, shattered girl, had been following her for so long. Through fan signs. Through concerts. Through this damn place.

Haruka had known her without knowing her.

And yet, now, right here, sitting in the quiet, holding hands—

It felt like she knew Minori better than she had ever known anyone.

Minori moved again, shifting even closer, her head pressing into Haruka’s neck. Haruka felt her breath—warm, steady, real.

Then, without thinking, without questioning—

Haruka turned, just slightly, and pressed the softest kiss to Minori’s hair.

Minori inhaled sharply.

Haruka stilled.

The room was too quiet.

Minori didn’t pull away.

Instead, her grip tightened.

And Haruka?

Haruka let it happen.

Because for once, in this cold, sterile hospital—

She felt warm.

-----

People started to notice.

It wasn’t obvious at first, not to anyone who wasn’t looking. But in a place like this, where everyone was always watching—people picked up on things fast.

Haruka didn’t care much for the whispers. Minori didn’t even acknowledge them.

But the changes were there.

Haruka, who flinched away from touch, who spent weeks walking on her tiptoes like she wasn’t even real, was now casually leaning into Minori.

Minori, who bounced from person to person in group therapy, never quite sitting still, now gravitated toward Haruka like a planet caught in orbit.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t flashy.

It was just them.

Haruka had bad days—days when the weight of everything made her body too heavy to move. Those days, Minori would sit beside her, leaning close, letting Haruka rest her head on her shoulder like it was normal.

Minori had bad days too—days where the energy wasn’t energy, where it was too much, spiraling, tipping into something sharp and dangerous. Those days, Haruka let her hold on, squeezing her hand tight enough to keep her grounded.

It wasn’t allowed.

But it wasn’t stopped.

Not really.

Not when Haruka, overwhelmed by the too-bright, too-loud, too-much of the common room, just walked over and hugged Minori. Not when Minori, half-asleep, let herself curl up in Haruka’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The nurses exchanged glances.

The other patients whispered.

But no one told them to stop.

Because for once—

Maybe even in this place—

They were healing.

-----

It started with whispers.

The nurses talked when they thought no one could hear. The doctors exchanged knowing glances during check-ins. The other patients muttered warnings under their breath.

It was only a matter of time.

Haruka knew it. Minori knew it.

And then, one morning, it happened.

A nurse came in during breakfast. “Minori, we need to talk.”

Minori barely had time to blink before they were pulling her away. She looked back at Haruka, confusion flashing across her face, but Haruka already knew.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just stared as Minori was led away.

Again.

—

Minori didn’t come back that day. Or the next.

By the third day, Haruka had to ask.

“She’s being moved to another ward,” the nurse said, avoiding her eyes. “It’s for her own good.”

Haruka clenched her fists. “She was fine.”

The nurse sighed. “You know it’s not allowed.”

Haruka knew what they meant. Too close. Too attached. Not safe.

But it was safe.

Minori hadn’t had an episode in weeks. Haruka was eating again. They were helping each other.

So why did they have to be separated?

—

Minori sat on the floor of her new room. It was bright. Too bright. The walls were covered in decorations, like a child’s playroom.

She hated it.

She hated this.

She curled her knees to her chest.

“I should’ve known,” she muttered.

Of course they’d take Haruka away from her. Of course they’d think she was too much. Too attached. Too dependent.

She bit her lip.

It was happening all over again.

First her ex. Now Haruka.

Maybe it really is my fault.

—

Haruka didn’t speak for a week.

Didn’t eat much. Didn’t participate in therapy.

Because what was the point?

She felt the nurses watching her, waiting to see if she’d break. But she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Still, every night, she stared at the wall, imagining Minori on the other side.

Until one night, when she snapped.

“I need to see her.”

The nurse frowned. “Haruka—”

“I need to.”

Her voice shook. Her body felt weightless, like she wasn’t even real again.

The nurse sighed. “I’ll talk to the doctors.”

Haruka didn’t let herself hope.

But a week later, she was finally given permission.

—

Minori’s new ward was colorful, but wrong.

It was supposed to be comforting. It felt suffocating.

But Minori—

Minori lit up when she saw her.

“Haruka!”

She grinned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked smaller, somehow. More fragile.

Haruka swallowed the lump in her throat.

“…Hey.”

They stood there for a second. Just staring.

Then Minori laughed. “Did you miss me?”

Haruka exhaled.

“…Yeah.”

Minori blinked.

Then, with a shaky smile—

“I missed you too.”

-----

Haruka hates it.

She hates the way Minori’s eyes look glazed over, unfocused. How she moves slower, like she’s wading through thick water. How the fire in her, the restless energy that used to make her exhausting but alive, is just… gone.

She still smiles. Still laughs, still chatters, but it’s softer now. Quieter. Not her.

She’s still Minori, but not Minori.

And Haruka hates it.

—

Minori is grateful to be back in the same room. She tells herself that. She should be grateful.

But everything is different.

She’s too tired to talk like before. Too slow to react. Her body feels like it’s moving at half speed, weighed down by something heavy and wrong.

Haruka notices. Of course she does.

She hasn’t said anything about it, but Minori catches the way she watches her. The tension in her shoulders whenever she catches Minori blinking too long, or stumbling slightly when she walks.

Minori knows she’s being sedated more. The nurses say it’s for her own good. To help her “regulate” better.

But she wonders if they just wanted her to shut up.

—

One night, Haruka breaks the silence.

“You’re not yourself anymore.”

Minori blinks slowly at her, barely processing. “…What?”

Haruka is sitting on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, staring at Minori like she’s trying to will her back to who she was before.

“You’re different.” Her voice is quiet, but sharp.

Minori tries to smile. “I’m just—”

“I hate it.”

That makes Minori pause.

Haruka’s hands grip her blanket tightly. “I hate how they’re making you like this.”

There’s something burning in Haruka’s voice. Something that makes Minori’s chest tighten.

“…It’s just the meds,” Minori says softly. “They help. They keep me stable.”

Haruka shakes her head.

“You weren’t dangerous. You weren’t—” She stops herself.

But Minori knows what she’s about to say. You weren’t broken before.

Minori exhales, running a tired hand through her hair. “This is just how it is, Haruka.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Minori raises a brow at her sudden harshness.

But Haruka’s eyes are sharp, determined. “You don’t need to be like this to be okay.”

A heavy silence settles between them.

Minori swallows. “You think I want this?”

“I don’t know,” Haruka mutters. “Maybe you think you deserve it.”

The words sting.

Minori clenches her jaw, looking away.

Because she does think that, sometimes.

Maybe it’s easier to just be drugged up and quiet instead of being a burden again. Maybe it’s safer for everyone if she’s slowed down, controlled.

Maybe it’s better this way.

Haruka clicks her tongue, frustrated. “I don’t know why you don’t fight it.”

Minori finally looks back at her. “Because I always lose.”

She says it so easily. Like it’s fact.

Haruka falls silent.

For the first time, she doesn’t know what to say.

-----

Behind closed doors, when the nurses aren’t watching, when the other patients are asleep, Minori and Haruka hold each other.

It starts out hesitant.

The first time, Minori is sitting on her bed, curled up, staring at the floor. Haruka doesn’t say anything—just silently moves to sit beside her. There’s barely any space between them.

Then, Minori leans into her. Just slightly.

Haruka doesn’t move away.

So Minori takes it as permission and presses closer, until her forehead is against Haruka’s shoulder.

Haruka stiffens, but she doesn’t pull away.

“…Are you okay?” Minori mumbles.

Haruka doesn’t answer right away.

Then, slowly, she exhales. “No.”

Minori hums softly. “Me neither.”

They don’t talk after that. They just sit there, letting their bodies press together in the quiet.

And for once, Minori doesn’t feel like she’s about to break.

—

It becomes a habit.

Haruka hates touch. She always has. But Minori is different.

Maybe because Minori understands.

She never clings too much, never grabs at her without warning. She just waits. Sometimes, she opens her arms slightly when she sees Haruka is upset, an unspoken you can if you want to.

And eventually, Haruka does.

She’ll wrap her arms around Minori, letting her face press against the crook of her neck, and Minori doesn’t comment on how her hands tremble. She just holds her back, just as tight.

—

They keep it secret.

The nurses would disapprove. The doctors would lecture them about attachment, about dependency, about how things like this lead to something bad.

But this—this isn’t bad.

This is the only thing that keeps them okay.

Minori doesn’t know if it’s love.

She doesn’t know if it should be love.

But when Haruka pulls her close, her grip desperate, Minori thinks—

Maybe this is the closest she’s ever felt to being safe.

It happens so fast that Haruka doesn’t even realize it.

The day had been too much. Too many people talking, too many fluorescent lights flickering above them, too many hands pushing her forward during group therapy. Her skin feels raw, her brain buzzing like an overworked engine.

By the time they’re back in their shared room, she doesn’t even hesitate.

She reaches for Minori, fingers wrapping tightly around her wrist before tugging her close—burying her face into her shoulder, seeking out warmth, pressure, safety.

Minori stiffens in surprise, then melts almost instantly.

She doesn’t say anything about it.

Doesn’t laugh, doesn’t tease—just lets Haruka be.

Her arms come up to wrap around her, slow and careful. She doesn’t move too fast, doesn’t push too hard. Just presses her cheek to Haruka’s hair, swaying them slightly as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe… it is.

“Cutie,” Minori murmurs softly, and Haruka—who normally hates pet names, who normally would push away any attempt at something like this—doesn’t protest.

She just clings tighter.

—

They don’t realize someone is watching.

The door hadn’t been fully closed.

A nurse stands in the hallway, clipboard in hand, eyes locked onto them through the small gap.

And then, she turns.

She walks away.

Haruka and Minori don’t know it yet.

But this—this is going to be a problem.

-----

The next morning, the nurse pulls them aside.

"You two need to be careful," she says, voice low and firm. "This kind of attachment can be dangerous in a place like this."

Haruka stares at the floor, fingers curling into her sleeves. Minori tilts her head, her usual bright smile flickering.

"Dangerous?" she echoes, feigning innocence. "But Haru-chan and I just get along~"

The nurse sighs. "I'm not saying you can’t be friends, but… the doctors are watching. They might separate you again if they think it's getting out of hand."

Haruka flinches. Minori's fingers twitch.

The nurse steps back, watching them carefully. "Just… don’t make this harder on yourselves, okay?"

She leaves.

The moment she’s gone, Minori turns to Haruka, eyes soft but determined.

"You heard her, right?" she says, swaying slightly, her medication making her sluggish. "They might separate us."

Haruka nods stiffly. She can still feel the cold of the empty days without Minori, the silence swallowing her whole.

Minori reaches out, fingers brushing against Haruka's.

"Then," she whispers, tilting her head with a teasing grin, "we just won’t let them catch us."

Haruka blinks. Minori giggles, gently squeezing her hand.

And for the first time in a long while, Haruka lets herself smile.

Because maybe—just maybe—they’re healing together.

-----

The medical staff watches. Always watching.

Their progress is undeniable—Minori is calmer, steadier, less prone to bursting at the seams with endless energy. Haruka speaks more, even if it’s in short, quiet sentences, even if her hands shake when she reaches for her food.

But there’s a thin thread of uncertainty strung between them.

Because Minori is still Minori. Still a girl whose emotions can skyrocket at any moment, still someone who could spiral into something uncontrollable. And Haruka is still Haruka. Still someone who folds into herself when the world is too much, who shuts down so completely it’s like she isn’t there at all.

The doctors murmur among themselves. It’s dangerous.

Yet, the truth is undeniable:

They can’t be apart.

Minori's episodes are fewer, less violent. Haruka's dissociation doesn’t last as long. Their bond is too strong, too real.

And so, for now, the hospital lets them stay.

For now, the world doesn’t pull them apart.

It happens quietly.

There’s no grand confession, no dramatic realization. Just a moment.

Haruka is overstimulated. The fluorescent lights buzz too loudly, the chatter in the common room scratches at her brain, the feeling of her sleeves against her wrists is unbearable. She tugs at them, curling in on herself, breathing too fast.

Minori notices. She always does.

Without a word, she takes Haruka’s hand and pulls her into their room. Their shared room, something that still feels unreal. The door clicks shut, and the noise fades into muffled background chaos.

Haruka exhales shakily. Minori sits on the bed beside her, watching. “Do you want me to talk or be quiet?” she asks, her voice soft.

Haruka shakes her head. She doesn’t know. She just—she just needs something.

Minori doesn’t hesitate. She opens her arms.

Haruka doesn’t think. She moves, pressing herself against Minori, tucking her face into the crook of her neck. Minori is warm, steady, solid. She smells like the vaguely floral detergent the hospital uses, but underneath it, there’s something her.

Minori hums, a soft, aimless tune, hands smoothing down Haruka’s back. “You’re okay,” she murmurs. “I got you.”

Haruka squeezes her eyes shut. I know.

They stay like that, breathing in sync, until Haruka shifts, just enough to look up at her. Minori’s eyes are half-lidded, gentle, her lips barely parted.

And Haruka, impulsive for once, doesn’t think—

She kisses her.

It’s soft, fleeting, barely a second before she pulls away, heart hammering against her ribs.

Minori blinks. Then smiles, slow and bright and real, and leans in—

Their second kiss lasts longer.

-----

Haruka feels lightheaded when they part, but it’s not from overstimulation this time. It’s different. Warmer.

Minori looks at her like she’s just won the lottery, like she can’t believe this is happening, like Haruka is something rare and precious. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“…You kissed me,” Minori whispers, still sounding breathless, still staring at Haruka like she’s unreal.

Haruka nods. “You kissed me back.”

Minori lets out a laugh, something small and disbelieving. “Yeah. I did.”

There’s a moment where they just sit there, absorbing it. Minori’s fingers twitch against Haruka’s, and instinctively, Haruka takes them, lacing them together. It’s the most natural thing in the world.

Minori’s grip tightens. “I—” She swallows. “I like you, Haruka. I mean, obviously, but like, like you. A lot.”

Haruka doesn’t answer immediately. Not because she doesn’t know what to say, but because it’s been so long since she’s been allowed to want something. And right now, she wants this. Wants her.

“…Me too,” she finally says.

Minori beams, and it’s so bright, so full of something unfiltered and raw, that Haruka has to look away. She hears Minori laugh, feels her lean against her, resting their foreheads together.

Outside their room, the hospital still hums with its usual emptiness. The nurses will probably check in soon. But right now, in this small pocket of time, they are just two people sitting too close, hands entwined, hearts too loud.

Minori tilts her head slightly, like she’s about to kiss her again, but instead, she just whispers, “Guess that makes us girlfriends now, huh?”

Haruka’s face burns. She groans and buries it in Minori’s shoulder.

Minori laughs.

-----

The days pass, slower than they want but faster than before. They still have their moments—Haruka with her quiet spells, Minori with the weight of her own mind pressing down on her—but they find comfort in each other.

Their dynamic doesn’t go unnoticed. The nurses still watch them carefully, but the longer time goes on, the less Minori is sedated, the more Haruka responds to conversations instead of just nodding along. Slowly, steadily, the doctors take note.

It’s an afternoon like any other when they’re called in separately for evaluations. Haruka is stiff the whole time, expecting bad news, but when she leaves the office, Minori is already waiting for her in the hallway, eyes wide with something that looks like disbelief.

“…Did they tell you?” Minori asks, voice hesitant, like she doesn’t want to believe it just yet.

Haruka swallows. “That… there’s a chance we’ll be discharged?”

Minori’s hands cover her mouth, and for a moment, she looks like she might start crying, but then she lets out the softest, breathiest laugh. “We’re getting out of here,” she whispers, eyes shining. “Haruka, we’re getting out of here.”

Haruka doesn’t know how to process it. She’s spent so long stuck in this place that the thought of leaving feels impossible. But Minori—Minori is already bouncing on her heels, already reaching for her hands, already smiling like this is the best day of her life.

And Haruka?

Haruka lets herself smile back.

-----

The excitement dulls when they realize the truth—Haruka is leaving first.

Minori still has a month left.

She tries to take it well, really, she does. She forces a smile and tells Haruka how amazing it is that she’s getting out first, that she deserves it, that she’s proud of her. But Haruka knows Minori by now. Knows that her hands shake when she holds them together. Knows that the way her smile twitches means she’s trying so hard not to let the sadness show.

“I’ll come visit,” Haruka says quietly, sitting beside Minori on their shared bed. “I’ll talk to the nurses. I won’t just—leave you here alone.”

Minori shakes her head, pressing her lips together. “That’s not something you can promise, Haru,” she whispers.

Haruka doesn’t argue, because she knows Minori is right.

The month stretches before them like a countdown neither of them wants to reach. But they try to make the most of it—falling asleep pressed close together, fingers tangled under the covers where no one can see. Whispered words in the dark, things they’re afraid to say out loud during the day.

And then, the morning arrives.

Haruka’s family is there. They hold her close, their warmth feeling both familiar and foreign after so long. She should be relieved. She is relieved.

But Minori isn’t by her side.

Instead, she’s standing at the edge of the hall, a small, tired smile on her face. She waves, but Haruka notices how her fingers tighten around the hem of her sleeve.

Haruka looks at her, and something aches inside her chest.

So before she steps out that door, she rushes back.

Minori barely has time to react before Haruka is wrapping her arms around her, holding her tight, burying her face in Minori’s shoulder.

“…I’ll wait for you,” Haruka murmurs. “I’ll be there when you get out.”

Minori lets out a shaky breath, then hugs her back. “You better be,” she whispers. “Or I’ll hunt you down myself.”

Haruka almost laughs. Almost.

Instead, she just squeezes Minori one last time before pulling away.

Then, without another word, she leaves.

-----

Haruka’s POV

The outside world feels unreal.

The air is fresher, the sky wider, the sounds louder than she remembers. She should feel free. But there’s something missing—like a piece of her was left behind in that place, still sitting in a bright-colored room, waiting.

Minori isn’t here.

Haruka never realized just how much she had gotten used to Minori’s presence—her chatter, her warmth, the way she hummed under her breath when she was bored. The way she instinctively filled the silences that Haruka didn’t know how to break.

Now, the silences stretch too long.

Her parents try their best. They dote on her, make sure she eats, tell her how proud they are. She appreciates it—she really does—but the weight in her chest remains.

She goes through the motions. She eats her meals, even if it takes too long. She does her check-ins with her therapist. She follows a routine, because she has to.

But every night, she lies awake, staring at her phone.

Minori doesn’t have her number. They never got the chance.

All she can do is wait.

She wonders if Minori is okay. If she’s still being sedated. If she’s still lonely in that empty block. If she still hums when no one’s listening.

A month has never felt so long.

---

Minori’s POV

It feels like withdrawal.

She hates to admit it, but she knows the feeling—her body itches with restlessness, a longing so deep it makes her sick.

Haruka is gone.

For the first few days, Minori pretends it doesn’t bother her. She plasters on a grin when the nurses check on her. She keeps up her energy, lets herself be chatty, forces herself to act fine.

But when the doors close?

The silence is unbearable.

She lays on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The walls feel like they’re closing in more than before. Even the bright decorations that once made her feel safe now seem too childish, too artificial.

She tries to remind herself: It’s only a month.

But a month without Haruka feels like an eternity.

She needs to get better. She has to get better.

For Haruka.

So she takes her meds without complaint. She cooperates in therapy. She learns to sit with the discomfort, to fight the spirals that threaten to consume her.

And then—finally, finally—the nurses call her in.

“You’re ready,” they tell her. “Your family will pick you up tomorrow.”

Her heart races.

Tomorrow.

She’s leaving tomorrow.

And Haruka—Haruka is out there, waiting.

She doesn’t have Haruka’s number. But she remembers the name of her official account.

That night, she logs into her old phone. Her hands tremble as she types out a message.

A simple one.

[Minori → Haruka]

hi :3

-----

Minori’s POV

She’s home.

After so long, she’s home.

The air smells different outside the hospital. It’s crisp, fresh, carrying the familiar scent of her childhood—home-cooked meals, her mom’s fabric softener, the grass in the backyard where her dog, Samo-chan, rolls around like a cloud with legs.

The moment she steps inside, Mika barrels into her, hugging her tight. “Nee-chan!!” he wails, his tiny arms squeezing like he’s afraid she’ll disappear again.

Her heart clenches.

She ruffles his hair, giving him a shaky grin. “I’m home, Mika.”

Samo-chan nearly knocks her over right after, wagging his tail so fast it’s a blur. His excited yips fill the house, and she sinks her fingers into his thick fur, hugging him close.

For a moment, everything is okay.

But later, when the excitement dies down, when Mika has run off to play and her parents are talking quietly in the kitchen, Minori finds herself sitting on her bed, staring at her phone.

Haruka.

She could text her now.

Her fingers hover over the keyboard. It feels unreal—she had spent a month craving this moment, but now that it’s here, she feels frozen. What if Haruka is doing better without her? What if she doesn’t need Minori the way Minori needs her?

Her heart pounds.

But she can’t back out now.

She takes a deep breath and starts typing.

[Minori → Haruka]

i got out!! :D my parents let me use my phone again hehe

samo-chan is still the biggest fluffball ever. mika got taller too! i think i missed a lot huh?

…do u wanna meet up?

She stares at the message, her chest tight.

Then, she presses send.

-----

Haruka’s POV

Her phone vibrates.

She nearly drops it.

It’s late, and she’s curled up in bed, the room dimly lit by the glow of her screen. She wasn’t expecting anything, wasn’t expecting her.

But there it is. Minori’s name.

Her breath catches in her throat.

Her fingers tremble as she taps the notification.

> Minori → Haruka

i got out!! :D my parents let me use my phone again hehe

samo-chan is still the biggest fluffball ever. mika got taller too! i think i missed a lot huh?

…do u wanna meet up?

Haruka stares at the message for a long time.

She should’ve expected it. Wanted it. But now that it’s real, her chest tightens, her fingers tightening around her blanket.

For a month, she had been waiting. But she had also been scared.

Scared that seeing Minori again would make everything come rushing back. The long nights, the alarms blaring, the empty space beside her when Minori was taken away.

But Minori was here now.

Haruka swallows hard, then forces her fingers to move.

[Haruka → Minori]

you’re out. that’s good.

samo-chan is still fluffy? figures. you probably hug him too much.

…yeah. let’s meet.

She hesitates.

Then, after a moment, she adds:

i missed you.

And presses send.