Chapter Text
Aira and Okarun walked in silence for a long while, the sound of rain filling all the spaces between them. The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it felt familiar. Not that she had known how it felt, she just witnessed it all those years.
Aira gripped the umbrella tighter, feeling the weight of old things she thought she’d buried long ago pressing against her chest.
"You know," she said finally, voice steady but low, "I always figured you'd reach out. After everything with Momo."
She didn’t dare look at him, instead keeping her gaze straight ahead.
Okarun was quiet for a moment, his hand brushing hers by accident, or maybe not, before he tucked it deep into his jacket pocket.
"You know, I thought about it," he said quietly. "A lot."
The answer, and it was not a lie, but didn’t feel quite like the full truth either, made something twist inside her.
"Yeah?" Aira muttered, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice and failing. "Didn't seem like it. Not a single call, or even text?"
The crosswalk turned green. They stepped off the curb together, shoulders still brushing under the cramped umbrella. She had felt betrayed for so many years.
"It wasn’t that simple," Okarun said, after a few painful heartbeats.
Aira let out a sharp breath, half a laugh, half something else, more painful. "Nothing ever is with you."
They reached the other side of the street. She debated to keep walking, leaving him in the rain, but she hesitated. Could've told him to forget what she said, like she always did. Younger Aira would have told him not to worry.
But this Aira.. the Aira that changed in those years didn’t.
Instead, she slowed her pace, letting the city breathe around them. The neon signs of small bars having seen better days illuminating her painful expression. Letting the question hang heavier between them than the rain-soaked air.
"You just disappeared," she said, softer now, almost accusing. "Like none of it meant anything."
Okarun stopped again, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"It meant something," he said, meeting her eyes for the first time since they left the izakaya. His voice was hoarse, and there was an edge of frustration there, at himself more than her.
"It still does mean something , I just..." He trailed off.
Aira stared at him.
For a second, a fraction of a heartbeat, it would’ve been so easy to step into him, to close that stubborn, stupid distance.
But she didn’t.
She tightened her grip on the umbrella instead, pulling it higher over both of them, an awkward, half-angry gesture.
"Then why didn’t you act like it?" she said, the words slipping out sharper than she meant.
Okarun looked at her, miserable and fond at the same time, like he didn’t have a good enough answer. Like he wished he did.
The city kept rushing by, indifferent and uncaring, while Aira Shiratori stood there, waiting for something he couldn’t give her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
So she shook her head, a small bitter smile curving her lips.
"Forget it," she muttered. "It’s too late anyway."
They walked the rest of the way without speaking, their steps slow, almost dragging, like neither of them could quite find the right excuse to end it.
The streets thinned out the deeper they went, the buzz of the city fading but never ceasing.
Okarun stayed close under the umbrella, careful not to crowd her, but never drifting far. Aira felt the heat of him at her side, every nerve in her body aware of it, painfully aware.
When they reached her building, an older apartment building that still looked remarkably well for its age, she stopped at the gate, fumbling for her keys.
The umbrella sagged a little between them.
She could’ve ended it here. Should have, maybe. A polite goodbye. A nod, a wave, a fuck you. .
Instead, Aira found herself glancing over her shoulder at him. At the way he stood there awkwardly, hands buried in his pockets. The rain dripped off his bangs and he looked like he didn't know if he should wait or walk away.
Aira took a deep breath, psyching herself.
"You coming up or what?"
Okarun blinked, caught completely off guard. His eyes widened a little, and Aira almost regretted it, but she held his gaze, daring him to say no.
He didn’t.
Instead, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Yeah. Sure."
Aira turned without waiting, pretending her heart wasn’t trying to punch a hole through her ribs. She led the way through the stairwell, up three flights, the smell of rain and old concrete filling the narrow space.
At her door, she juggled the keys with numb fingers, aware of him hovering behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath stir the ends of her damp hair.
When the lock clicked open, she pushed the door wide, stepping into the small but fancy apartment. No matter what she had done to the place, how homely it felt during the day, in the evenings it always felt a little empty around the edges.
She toed off her shoes, tossing her jacket onto the back of a chair. Okarun hesitated at the threshold like he wasn't sure if he belonged there.
"You waiting for an invitation?" she said over her shoulder, voice dry. "Get in before you drown, idiot."
He let out a small laugh and stepped inside, slipping out of his sneakers and setting the collapsed umbrella by the door.
The apartment filled with the soft patter of rain against the windows, the faint buzz of the city far below.
Aira crossed to the small kitchen, pulling two cans of beer from the fridge and tossing one toward him without ceremony.
Okarun caught it easily, laughing under his breath.
"For old times' sake?" he said, lifting the can.
Aira leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, studying him in the dim light of the room.
"Something like that..”
Neither of them mentioned the fact that they were soaked, or shivering, or standing way too close in a too-quiet apartment.
Neither of them dared.
Aira disappeared into the small hallway and came back a moment later, tossing a clean towel at him.
"Dry off before you ruin my floor," she said, flicking the tab on her own beer and taking a long sip.
Okarun caught the towel one-handed, flashing her a teasing grin. "Thanks, mom."
"Watch it, Takakura," she warned, but her voice was lighter now, something loosened when she was home.
He ruffled the towel through his hair, droplets flying everywhere, and she rolled her eyes, tossing him a glare that didn't quite land.
They ended up on opposite ends of the deep velvet couch. Aira curled into one corner, Okarun perched stiffly on the other, beer can resting between his palms.
Aira opened up a lofi playlist on the television for some background noise, because she couldn’t stand the silence.
For a while, neither of them said anything. The rain filled the silence, steady and constant against the windows.
Aira stared at the television screen, then finally asked, voice low and rough, "So what happened?"
Okarun didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. He rolled the ran between his hands, the weight of the question settling over him, before he let out a slow breath and leaned back against the couch.
"We just... changed," he said. "I guess, I still don’t fully know."
Aira didn’t press. She knew he would open up if she waited.
He rubbed the back of his neck, the towel forgotten on the couch beside him. His eyes were distant, tracking the rain sliding down the window.
"I think we got too protective of each other," he said finally. "Started making choices for each other instead of... together. It was a mess."
Aira felt something cold settle in her chest, something she didn’t know she’d been holding onto until now.
"She didn’t want me putting myself in danger anymore," he went on quietly. "And I hated seeing her get hurt. It just... it stopped being about living our lives together, you know? God, we tried..” Okarun groaned, frustrated. ”We fucking tried. It just started being about surviving for each other, but neither of us lived."
He laughed under his breath, a hollow, broken sound. "And somewhere in there, we forgot how to just... be."
Aira looked down at her beer, fingers tightening around the can. She understood more than she wanted to admit. Maybe because she'd done the same thing once, pushing people away so she wouldn't have to watch them break, or worse, break because of her.
"I'm sorry," she said, surprising herself. The words tasted strange, but they were honest. Without malice.
Okarun shrugged, managing a small, tired smile. "Me too."
Neither of them said anything for a while, just sat there, the space between them buzzing with everything they weren't saying.
When Aira finally shifted, setting her empty can down with a soft clink , her leg brushed against his.
He didn’t move away.
And for once, neither did she.