The door was shut.
Lyra was gone.
Hana was still sitting there, between the chairs at the dining table, where the sad remains of Sayuri's taiyaki lay. Her body hadn't moved since Lyra left. Not even her fingers, which had clawed into the fabric of her hoodie, were moving anymore. Only her breathing proved she was still there. Uneven, like her lungs, forgot how to breathe.
The faucet dripped.
Tock.
Tock.
Tock.
Every single drop echoed through the silence, drilling into Hana's skull like a dull needle. Seconds stretched out, turned into minutes, maybe even hours. She didn't know. Time had lost its meaning, had turned into something viscous that slowly dragged her along.
Outside, a car passed by. The sound swelled, grew louder, then faded again until it disappeared in the distance. Somewhere, a dog barked.
But inside the apartment, there was nothing but the dripping.
Tock.
Hana's gaze was fixed somewhere on the opposite wall. Empty, without seeing anything.
So that's it?
The thought crept in slowly, like poison in her veins.
Why am I like this? I always ruin everything…
She wanted to move, wanted to stand up, do something, anything. But her body didn't listen.
Tock.
The tears didn't come. Not anymore. Her body had none left. There was only pressure. A dull pressure in her chest that felt like it was crushing her from the inside.
She had lost Lyra.
Again.
And this time, it was her fault.
Tock.
At some point, Hana's hand moved. Uncoordinated, it searched along the floor until her fingers touched something cold. Her phone. It lay where it had fallen after she deleted Syon's message.
She dragged it across the floor toward herself and stared at it. Her fingers left smeared marks across the glass.
She searched for Lyra's contact. "Lyly." The one with the little heart next to it. It was still there, unchanged in second place, as if nothing had happened. But everything had happened.
Hana pressed the voice message button. Her thumb trembled so much she missed it twice.
The red recording icon lit up.
Silence.
Only her own breathing, rasping through the microphone. She opened her mouth.
"Lyra, I…"
Her voice broke immediately. The pause stretched longer. Hana breathed in, tried again.
"I don't know what to say. I… fuck, I messed everything up and—"
A sob cut her off. She bit down on her lip until she found words again.
"I didn't mean to. I didn't want to… I just— I'm scared, okay? I'm so fucking scared, and I know that's not an excuse, but—"
Her voice trembled, losing its footing, growing higher, more fragile with every word.
"Please… please don't hate me. I can't… I can't take it if you—"
She broke off again. This time, only a choked sound came out.
Thirty seconds. Forty. The recording kept running, capturing every second of her desperation. Hana stared at the display, at the waveform of her own voice trembling there just like her body.
Delete.
Another attempt. The red icon lit up again.
"Lyra… I'm so sorry."
Hana swallowed. Her throat felt tight, like it was closing in.
"I… I understand that you're angry. You have every right to be. I'm just… I'm so fucked up, I know. You want to get out of the club and I… I'm just holding you back. I'm just weight dragging you down and—"
She stopped, inhaling sharply.
"But I… I can't do this without you. I know that's selfish, I know I should… I should just let you go, but I can't—"
Her voice grew quieter.
"I can't do this without you, Lyra. I… I need you so much and it makes me so fucking pathetic and I hate myself for needing you, but—"
A sob tore through her words. Then another. Hana pressed a hand over her mouth, trying to crush it down, but it still slipped through. The microphone caught everything. Every broken sound. Every desperate breath.
One minute. One and a half.
Hana stared at the recording, at the seconds continuing to tick forward.
What's the point?
The thought came quietly, like fog.
She doesn't want to hear this. She's gone. And if she hears this… she'll hate me even more.
Delete.
On the third attempt, Hana held her finger on the record button, but no words came out. She just sat there, staring at Lyra's name. That was all.
Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Thirty. Finally she swiped left. Delete.
She let the phone fall. It hit the floor with a dull crack, the screen going black. Hana's reflection stared back at her, blurred and distorted.
She forced herself up. Every muscle resisted.
Her legs shook so badly she had to grab onto the table. Her fingers dug into the edge until her knuckles turned white. The world tilted, slipped to the side, then steadied again.
One step. Then another.
The room pulled at her.
The table where she had been sitting with Lyra and Sayuri, as if everything had been okay. The smell of cigarettes, and beneath it, something else. Something that smelled like her. Like Lyra.
Hana's gaze drifted to the manga shelf. There, between the yellowed volumes, behind an old copy of Scum's Wish, was an unopened bottle of strawberry vodka, limited edition. On the label, Hatsune Miku smiled in pastel pink and turquoise, surrounded by glittering strawberries.
Lyra hadn't found it during her cleanup. Of course she hadn't. Hana had learned to hide her stashes everywhere back in rehab.
Her hand moved without her really wanting it to. She pushed the manga aside, her fingers stretched out and closed around the bottle.
The cap clicked as she twisted it open. The sound echoed through the silence. Hana lifted the bottle slowly. The clear, faintly reddish liquid shifted inside, gently hitting the glass. She watched the small waves form, moving in rhythm with her trembling.
Closer. Closer to her lips.
"DO YOU WANT TO KEEP CLOSING YOUR EYES AND DRINK UNTIL YOU DIE?!"
Lyra's voice shot through her head.
The bottle jerked in Hana's hand. Liquid spilled over the rim, dripping down her arm.
"You're not weak."
Hana's breath hitched.
"DON'T YOU SEE THAT?! DO YOU WANT TO DIE?!"
The bottle sank a little.
"You don't understand me anyway."
Something in Hana's chest tore.
"AHHHHH!"
She hurled the bottle against the wall.
CRASH!
The glass exploded. Shards flew through the air. Vodka sprayed in every direction and ran down the wall. Hana stood there, gasping, her hand frozen mid-throw.
The silence afterward was the worst part. Only her own breathing filled the room.
"I can't take this anymore."
The words hung there, between the shards of glass and the smell of alcohol. Hana knew she had to get out.
Now.
She stumbled into the bedroom and tore the closet open. Her hands dug through the clothes at random until her fingers caught on something soft. An oversized shirt with a Kuromi print. Black and pink. Cute. Almost ironic. She pulled it over her head. The fabric fell loosely over her shoulders, way too big. Then a pair of tight black jeans. Her fingers fumbled with the button, slipping again and again. It took her several tries before it finally snapped shut. Hana grabbed her black choker and fastened it tightly around her neck. The pressure felt good.
Something she could actually feel. Then the belt. Black with a silver buckle. She pulled it tight. Too tight.
With a quick motion, she tucked the shirt into her jeans, then pulled it out slightly at the sides. Form-fitting. So you could see her waist. Her curves.
At least this way I'm… worth something.
Out. Just get out.
The door slammed shut behind her.
⋯───⋱───⋯──⋱───⋯──⋱───⋯
Hana started walking without knowing where she was going. Her feet just carried her forward.
She just wants out. And I'm the one holding her back. I'm the thing dragging her down. Does she even like me?
That last thought lingered longer than the others.
Or was I just useful? Because I get along with Nozomi. Because I could get access to her phone. Because I can help Lyra with her plan.
Hana's breathing grew faster.
Was I just a means to an end? The way she looked at me… the way she held me… was all of that a lie?
A bitter laugh echoed between the buildings.
Of course. Who would like someone like me?
Her fingernails scraped unconsciously across the back of her hand, leaving thin red lines on her skin.
But fuck, why can't she just stay anyway, even if she's only using me…
Hana swallowed hard. Her throat burned.
…fuck, I need her myself… why do I need her this much?
She walked faster and faster, as if she could outrun the thoughts. But they followed her.
Maybe she's right. Maybe I really don't understand her.
At some point, her feet stopped. In front of her, a faded yellow wooden sign flickered. "Heaven's Gate."
A bar. Small. Unremarkable. Tucked away in a side street. Hana knew this place. She came here when she needed to be somewhere, anywhere but home.
She pushed the door open. Inside, it was warm, and the smell of cigarettes hung heavy in the air. A few figures sat scattered at the bar and in the booths. No one paid her any attention.
She sat down at the counter. The bartender, Tanaka, an older man with a receding hairline and a mustache, recognized her immediately. His gaze lingered on her face for a moment. He exhaled slowly.
"Hana-chan," he greeted her with a nod. "The usual?"
"Nah. Just a coke."
His eyebrows shot up. For a moment, he said nothing. Then a wide grin spread across his face.
"Coke!" He clapped his hands once. "I can't believe it. You know what? This one's on the house."
He set the glass down in front of her, then leaned over the counter.
"And you know what? I'll even throw in one of those fancy little cocktail umbrellas. The ones with the tiny parrots on them. Just for you."
Hana gave a faint smile as he actually stuck a small, colorful umbrella into her drink.
"Tanaka, this is a coke. Not a piña colada."
"I don't give a shit. You deserve a parrot today." He winked at her. "And two tomorrow if you order another coke."
She nodded, feeling something loosen in her chest. Just a little. But it was there.
She took a sip. The carbonation prickled on her tongue. The little paper umbrella bobbed back and forth. A small victory. A really fucking small one. But still.
Her thoughts drifted back to Lyra. To the words she had screamed. To the look in her eyes right before she left. Hana wondered if Lyra even knew how much every single word had torn her apart. Or if she didn't care.
Maybe Hana really had just been an obstacle. A weight Lyra had finally gotten rid of. Maybe she was sitting somewhere right now, relieved she didn't have to come back. Didn't have to pretend she liked Hana anymore.
"Hey."
The voice came from her right. Hana looked up.
A guy, early thirties, stood next to her. Average height, brown hair, a friendly face. He wore simple jeans and a white shirt, slightly wrinkled, his tie hanging loose around his neck.
"Is this seat taken?" He nodded toward the stool beside her.
Hana shrugged. "Go ahead."
He sat down with a exhausted sigh and ordered a beer. When Tanaka placed it in front of him, he took a long sip.
"Rough day?" Hana asked.
"You could say that." He let out a tired laugh. "My boss just yelled at me for two hours straight because I sent an email to the wrong distribution list. Two. Hours."
"Wow. What was in the email?"
"Quarterly numbers." He rolled his eyes. "Nothing worth screaming about."
Hana gave a faint smirk. "Sounds exciting."
"Oh yeah. My life's basically an action movie." He took another sip. "What about you? Bad day?"
"You could say that."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No."
"Good. Me neither." He gave her a crooked grin. "Let's talk about something pointless. Have you ever tried drawing a flamingo?"
Hana blinked. "What?"
"A flamingo. I tried during the video call while my boss was yelling. It ended up looking like a pink umbrella with legs."
Despite everything, Hana laughed. A real laugh.
"Why the fuck would you draw a flamingo?"
"Self-defense. If I hadn't done something, I would've exploded." He pulled out his phone and showed her a picture. "See? Disaster."
The drawing truly was terrible. Hana laughed again.
"That's… that's really bad."
"Thanks. I tried." He grinned. "What about you? What do you do?"
Hana hesitated. "I… work nights."
"Nurse?"
"Something like that."
He nodded and didn't ask further.
They kept talking. About his annoying boss, about terrible drawings, about nothing important. Nothing deep. But his attention felt good.
After a while, he asked, "What's your name, by the way?"
"Hana."
"I'm Kenji." He smiled. "Nice to meet you, Hana."
He looked at her. Really looked. And for a brief moment, it felt like she was… important. Like someone actually wanted to see her.
"Do you… want to get out of here?" Kenji asked after a while. His voice was soft. "I don't live far. We could… talk. Or listen to music. Or try drawing better flamingos."
Hana knew what he meant. She wasn't stupid.
But she nodded anyway. She needed the feeling of being wanted, even if it was only for a few hours. At least she wouldn't be alone tonight.
She stood up and followed him to the door.
⋯───⋱───⋯──⋱───⋯──⋱───⋯
Kenji's apartment was small, but tidy.
White walls. A couch with too many pillows. A shelf full of books and manga. Everything clean, almost sterile. It smelled like detergent and fresh coffee.
Normal. So fucking normal.
"Want something to drink?" Kenji asked, walking over to the small kitchen area. "I've got water, beer… another coke…"
"Water's fine."
He filled two glasses, came back, and sat down next to her on the couch. Not too close. But close enough.
They drank in silence. Hana stared at the glass in her hands, watching the condensation form. Small droplets slowly running down the surface.
"So," Kenji started, leaning back. "Wanna tell me why you're sitting in a bar in the middle of the day, drinking coke?"
Hana let out a faint laugh. "Couldn't I ask you almost the same thing?"
"Touché." He grinned. "Alright, I'll go first. My boss is an asshole, my apartment's too small, and I've been living off instant ramen for three days."
"Sounds sad."
"It is." He took a sip of water. "And you?"
"My…" Hana hesitated. "Someone important left me today. Said I didn't understand her."
"Ouch."
"Yeah."
They were quiet for a moment.
"Was she your girlfriend?" Kenji glanced down briefly, then back at her.
Hana nodded slowly. "I… I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe I just made the whole thing up."
"Sounds complicated."
"It is."
Kenji set his glass down and turned toward her.
"You know what I think? I think if someone leaves you because you 'don't understand them,' that's bullshit. People who like you stay and talk. They don't just walk away."
Hana's eyes burned. She wiped it away. "Maybe." Hana set her glass down. Her hand trembled slightly.
"Kenji?"
"Hm?"
"What color is my hair?"
He blinked, confused. "What?"
"Please. Just tell me what color my hair is."
"Uh… black? With red strands?"
Hana nodded slowly.
"And… do you want me?"
The question hung between them.
Kenji swallowed. "I… yeah. But only if you want it too."
"I do," Hana said.
She needed it. The feeling of being seen. Of being wanted.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
His hands moved to her waist, pressing her back onto the couch. Hana let it happen. Her body was there. But she wasn't.
Clothes began to fall. First his shirt. Then her Kuromi top, which he carefully pulled over her head. The choker stayed around her neck. The bra too.
Kenji kissed her shoulder. His lips traveled lower, over her collarbone, between her breasts, across her stomach.
His hands slid over her skin, undoing the button of her jeans. He pulled them down slowly while continuing to kiss her.
Hana lay there in her bra and underwear and felt so exposed. So bare. Like the whole world could see how empty she was. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear.
And suddenly… there was Lyra.
Lyra's face. Lyra's voice.
"You don't understand me anyway."
What am I even doing here?
Kenji pulled her underwear down slowly, his hand brushing her skin, briefly touching the soft hair there.
This isn't right. This doesn't fill anything. This doesn't change anything. I don't want this.
I want Lyra.
"Stop."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
Kenji kept going.
"Stop," she said, louder now.
Her hands shot down and held his.
He paused, looking up at her. "What?"
"I… I can't do this." Hana's voice broke. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I just can't, I—"
"Hey, it's okay, you don't have to—"
"NO!"
She pulled back, her hands shaking. "It's not okay! Nothing is okay!" The tears came in streams now. Her whole body trembled.
"I don't want this… I want her… I just want—"
She broke off, sobbing, her hands pressed against her face. Kenji stood up immediately, keeping his distance, his hands raised. "Hey, hey, it's okay. We stop. No problem."
But Hana barely heard him anymore. She stumbled toward the door and grabbed her bag.
"Wait, Hana—" Kenji quickly gathered her things from the floor. The Kuromi shirt, the jeans, the sneakers. "At least take your clothes, it's raining outside—"
But Hana yanked the door open.
"I'm sorry," she pressed out. "I'm so sorry, I—"
"You don't have to apologize." His voice followed her into the stairwell, soft, without any blame. "Take care of yourself, okay? Please, at least take—"
But she was already gone. Down the stairs. Out into the rain. In bra and underwear. Nothing else.
The cold rain hit her bare skin.
People stared. A group of young men whistled after her. One of them shouted something obscene, swallowed by the rain. Women looked away quickly, whispering behind their hands.
"Don't look, Keiko—"
"Is she drunk?"
"Probably a prostitute…"
"Poor thing…"
Hana heard everything and nothing. The words bounced off her like the rain.
She ran barefoot across the wet asphalt, stumbled, hit the ground hard on her knees. Pain shot through her legs, but she pushed herself back up. Everything was blurred. The lights. The faces. The world.
I just wanted someone to stay.
The thought broke through her sobbing.
I just wanted… to be loved.
Her legs gave out again. She fell, right in the middle of the wet sidewalk, staying on all fours as the rain poured down on her. Her fingers searched for her bag. Where was it? Had she even taken it?
There. The strap over her shoulder, soaked, but still there. She pulled out her phone.
I have to tell Lyra. Now. Before it's too late.
With trembling fingers, she unlocked it. The screen blurred in front of her eyes. She opened her contacts. The first name at the top.
She pressed it.
Voice message.
The red icon lit up.
And then everything poured out of her.
"I LOVE YOU!"
Her voice tore through the rain.
"FUCK, I LOVE YOU!"
A sob cut her off, then she screamed again, louder, as if the volume alone could fill the emptiness.
"Please… please come back! P-Please! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Her tears mixed with the rain on her face. "I can't without you… I don't want to be without you… PLEASE!"
Her voice broke completely. Only uncontrolled sobbing echoed through the street.
She hit send.
Hana let the phone fall. It hit the wet asphalt beside her with a crack. She curled in on herself, arms wrapped tight around her body, crying into the rain.
"Child?"
A gentle voice crept through the sound of the rain.
Hana felt something warm around her shoulders. A blanket. Soft. It smelled like lavender.
She lifted her head. An old woman knelt in front of her, her face lined with wrinkles and concern. She held an umbrella over both of them.
"It will be okay," the woman whispered, pulling the blanket tighter around Hana. "Everything will be okay, my child."
Hana couldn't say a word. She just trembled, as the old woman held her in the pouring rain, tightly, like a mother.
⋯───⋱───⋯──⋱───⋯──⋱───⋯
Café "Moonlight", 3:47 PM
"One caramel macchiato, extra foam, please!"
Syon smiled warmly and nodded at the young woman.
"Of course! And may I perhaps recommend a slice of our homemade apple cake? It's fresh today!"
The customer laughed. "Oh god, you're so convincing! Fine, cake too."
"Perfect choice!" Syon winked as he entered the order into the register. "That'll make your afternoon a whole lot sweeter, I promise!"
The café was full, like every afternoon. Students with laptops, mothers with strollers, businesswomen on their coffee break. Syon knew most of them by name, knew what they liked, and made them laugh.
The perfect barista. Friendly, attentive, charming. His hands worked skillfully at the espresso machine while his mind was somewhere else.
Hana.
She hadn't replied. Not since last night. The messages were read, but ignored.
He didn't like that.
He placed the macchiato on the counter, finishing it with a small heart in the foam. "There you go! And the cake will be right up!"
"Aww, that's so cute! Thank you!"
Syon smiled and turned to the next customer. "Hey, Yumi! The usual?"
"You know me too well!"
"Of course! Large latte with hazelnut syrup, extra hot. Coming right up!"
While the coffee machine worked, his thoughts kept spinning.
How do I get her to answer?
Maybe he should be more direct. Show her he was serious. That she didn't have a choice. His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Syon glanced toward the counter. Two customers were waiting, but they were chatting with each other. He had a moment.
He pulled out his phone.
New voice message from: Hana
His pulse quickened.
Finally.
He pressed play and held the phone to his ear.
"I LOVE YO—"
Hana's voice exploded out of the speaker, way too loud. The two customers turned around and giggled.
"Oh my god, was that—?"
"Sounded desperate, haha!"
Syon quickly hit pause, his face turning red. "Sorry, wrong setting!"
He laughed awkwardly, charming. "My ex. You know how it is… drama."
The customers laughed knowingly.
"Oh god, I know! My last one was exactly like that!"
"Men don't have it easy either, huh?" the other one winked at him.
Syon gave a crooked grin. "Tell me about it."
But his heart was pounding.
What the hell was that?
"Be right back," he muttered to his coworker and slipped toward the staff restroom. The door shut behind him. He leaned against it and locked it.
Then he raised the phone to his ear again and pressed play. Hana's voice filled the small room.
"I LOVE YOU! FUCK, I LOVE YOU!"
Syon's eyes widened.
"Please… please come back! P-Please! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!"
What?
"I can't be without you… I don't want to be without you… PLEASE!"
Hana's voice broke, collapsing into shattered sobbing.
The message ended.
Syon stood there, the phone still pressed to his ear. He played it again.
"I LOVE YOU!"
And again.
"I can't without you…"
And again.
What the fuck?
His thoughts raced. This made no sense. No sense at all. Hana… loved him? No. Impossible. She hated him. She was afraid of him. Or… had she been hiding it this whole time?
"I don't want to be without you!"
The desperation in her voice. The sobbing.
Does she mean… me?
Syon stared at the screen, his fingers tightening around the phone. His heart beat faster.
But… why would she…?
It didn't make sense. None of it did. But the message was there. Sent to him. From her.
"I love you…"
Syon leaned back against the cold tiled wall and played the message again.
What the hell is going on?