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it had been six months since you and higuruma split up. you both thought you could work the problems out together, but it turned out life had other plans for the two of you. higuruma, who had never once raised his voice at you had, for the first time, lashed out.
during the last semester of uni, everything became overwhelmingly packed. There was no alternative but to immerse yourself in lectures, books, and exams. staying at the 24-hour library next to your shared apartment became routine, and it meant cutting down the already rare moments you spent with your beloved boyfriend, higuruma.
higuruma had a lot on his plate too. maybe what made the relationship worse was his lack of acknowledgment of your side. it wasn’t that he didn’t care about you, nor that he didn’t pay attention to you. he loved you, he swore he really did, but the way he acted told you something different.
so on that saturday night, when you got back from night out with a friend, you found higuruma sitting alone in the living room, a glass of red wine in his hand. he stared blankly at the television, and you weren’t sure if he was even paying attention to whatever was playing.
“where were you?” he asked calmly, though there was a hint of annoyance in his tone.
with a quiet sigh, you walked toward the sofa and sat beside him.
“i was out with some friends. I finally finished my finals,” you said, glancing up at him as you lean in, hoping he would drop the questions and go straight to bed.
“we need to talk. i don’t think things are working out between us.”
you straightened your back, staring at him in confusion. 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵? what does he even mean? you thought to yourself.
“hiromi… what do you mean?” you asked quietly, worry creeping into your voice. you knew you had both been busy with your own lives and rarely spent time together, but that wasn’t really a reason to break up, right? you could work it out. you had to be able to.
“it’s been too long,” he said. “my work keeps piling up, and you’ve been too busy to even ask about me. we’re not in sync anymore.”
he finally looked at you. his eyes were cold, stripped of the warmth you remembered so well. slowly, you felt your vision blur as your eyes began to sting.
“i just,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i don’t think i can keep doing this.”
your chest tightened. “doing what?”
“this,” hiromi said, his voice sharper now. “us. pretending this is enough.”
“in sync? but things had always been like that, hiromi. what made you change your mind? why now?” you looked at him, searching his face. “i was waiting. i thought you knew that.”
“waiting?” he repeated, a humorless laugh slipping out. “i’ve been waiting too.” his voice rose before either of you realized it. “waiting for you to come home before midnight. waiting for a conversation that doesn’t end with you falling asleep. waiting to feel like i still matter.”
that made you flinch. “that’s not fair.”
“no, it isn’t,” he snapped. “but that’s how it feels.” he stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “do you know what it’s like to sit here every night, telling myself you’re just busy, that this is temporary, while everything stays the same?”
“i never asked you to do that,” you said, your voice breaking. “i was trying my best. these finals aren’t gonna stay forever, you know once i’m over this we could be back together again like how we used to?”
he opened his mouth again, anger flashing across his face, but then he stopped. his shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him all at once. he turned away, breathing out slowly.
“i know,” he said, quieter now. “i know you were.”
he sat back down, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. “that’s the worst part. you didn’t do anything wrong. and i still feel like this.” his voice wavered, just slightly. “i don’t like the way i talk to you when i’m frustrated. i don’t like who i’m becoming. i can’t keep doing this to you, i can’t keep on using work as an excuse to be a jerk to you.”
silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile.
“i don’t want to hurt you,” he said at last. “and lately, it feels like that’s all i’m doing.”
your eyes burned. “so you’re leaving before you can say something you can’t take back?”
he closed his eyes. “i already did.”
you closed your eyes for a moment. thinking about the past had never helped, and tonight was no different. earlier, your phone had lit up with a missed call from hiromi, followed by a text.
“[name], let’s meet at 7. our usual place.”
straightforward. the same way he used to talk to you when things were simple. you hadn’t realized how much you missed that until your chest tightened at the sight of his name.
now you sat where you first met, hands fingers worrying at the edge of your sleeve, trying not to read too much into the familiarity of it all. footsteps approached. hiromi stopped in front of you. he looked the same in ways that mattered, and different in ways that hurt. he smiled. you smiled back, unsure, like you were testing whether it still fit.
“how are you?” he asked.
“i’m okay,” you said. “a few months left before i graduate.” after a pause, “how about you, hiromi?”
“i’m doing fine,” he replied, but his gaze lingered, careful, almost hesitant. you looked tired. not the kind of tired that came from studying, but the kind that settled into someone after learning how to live without something they once relied on. his fingers twitched at his side, like he almost reached for you, then thought better of it.
“i’ve been thinking about you,” he said. “about us. i think we ended things on the wrong foot.”
you let out a slow breath. “i don’t think it was the wrong foot,” you said quietly. “i think it was just the last step.”
he didn’t answer right away. the city noise filled the space between you, the same way silence used to in your apartment. this place had once felt like a beginning. now it felt like proof that beginnings didn’t guarantee anything.
“i don’t think we fit anymore,” you continued, your voice steady even as your chest tightened. “not in the way that matters.”
hiromi nodded, once. “i know.” his voice was low. “i realized that too late.”
that was the part that hurt. not the agreement, but the timing. you both stood there, knowing that love hadn’t been enough, and that it still lingered in all the wrong places.
“i’m glad you’re doing well,” he said after a moment.
you wanted to say something softer. something kinder. instead, you said, “i’m glad you called.”
because even now, even like this, it mattered that you hadn’t been erased.
when it was time to leave, neither of you moved at first. there was no promise to try again, no suggestion of staying in touch. just the quiet understanding that if you held on any longer, it would hurt more.
hiromi stood. “take care of yourself, [name].”
you watched him walk away until he blended into the crowd, until he was just another person passing through a place that no longer belonged to either of you. “you too.” a small whisper escaped your lips, your chest ached with the certainty that this was what letting go actually felt like.
𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺.
and somewhere beneath that weight, a small, unfamiliar thought lingered. just the knowledge that if life ever brought you back together, it would not be to repeat the past, but to meet again as people who had learned from their mistakes and how hollow it feels without each other.