Love sometimes means goodbye, too—even if it's just for a little while.
The campus felt quieter than usual, like it, too, was preparing to exhale. The wide courtyards were still peppered with late autumn leaves, wind brushing through the naked trees like a final sigh. Luggage wheels rattled across cracked pavement. Laughter echoed distantly from the dorms as people packed up, said their goodbyes, and left for the holidays.
Kaito stood in front of his dorm building with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his breath puffing out in little white clouds. He looked up at the window on the third floor, Yuuki's window, and exhaled slowly.
How do you say goodbye to someone who just started to feel like home?
"Bro, you sure you don't wanna come back in and make out with her one last time before the break?" Haru teased from beside him, grinning like the idiot wingman he was born to be.
Kaito flushed. "We didn't even—"
"I know, I know. You're still in the baby deer stage. But hey, it's cute. You two are like those couples in slice-of-life anime who blush every time they hold hands."
Kaito adjusted the strap of his bag, cheeks red. "We're taking it slow."
Haru nudged him playfully. "Slow is good. Just don't stop."
"I won't," Kaito said quietly.
Yuuki was waiting for him by the school gate. She wore an oversized beige coat that made her look even smaller than usual, her breath visible in the cold air, hands tucked into her sleeves like she didn't trust them not to do something reckless.
When she saw him, she smiled.
And that was all it took for his heart to soften.
They stood in the quiet space just past the gate, where taxis idled and students waved at friends they wouldn't see again until January. The air smelled faintly of gasoline, fallen leaves, and something softer—farewell.
Kaito looked at Yuuki like he was memorizing her.
"I'll text you when I get home," he said.
"You better."
There was a pause. The kind that blooms only when people don't want to leave.
"Hey," she said suddenly. "Don't forget me."
He blinked. "What? Why would I—"
"I don't know." She looked away, voice a little smaller. "Sometimes people change when they're away. I just… don't want to be another memory you outgrow."
Kaito stepped forward. He took her hand. Cold fingers. Warm heart.
"I'm not going anywhere, Yuuki. I promise."
She looked up at him. And in that moment, neither of them smiled. It was too raw for that. Too honest. Just eyes locked, breath mingling, hearts open.
He leaned in. Just enough to rest his forehead against hers.
And she closed her eyes.
They didn't kiss. But it felt deeper than one.
When he pulled back, she squeezed his hand one last time, then let go like it hurt to do so.
—
The ride home was quiet.
Kaito sat by the window of the intercity train, earbuds in, scenery blurring past—fields turning brown with winter, gray towns with shuttered shops, vending machines standing like lonely sentinels on empty platforms.
He kept checking his phone. Not for new messages. Just staring at the last one Yuuki sent.
Yuuki: I already miss you.
He stared at the blinking cursor in the reply box for five whole minutes before typing.
Kaito: I miss you more.
I was thinking… maybe we could meet up over the holidays? If you're free.
He stared at the screen.
Deleted the message.
Typed it again.
Deleted it again.
Then finally hit send with a wince, like he'd just thrown his dignity into a volcano.
He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until the reply came seconds later.
Yuuki: I'd love that.
And just like that, the train ride didn't feel quite so long anymore.
The train pulled into the small suburban station just before sunset. Kaito stepped off, luggage dragging behind him, and the familiar scent of his hometown wrapped around him like an old sweater—a mix of soil, pine trees, and memories.
He spotted her immediately.
"ONIICHAN!!!"
And then—
Impact.
A blur of dark hair and oversized hoodie launched at him from the platform and latched onto his torso like a barnacle.
"Maru—!?"
"I missed you!! You didn't reply to my sticker messages!! Are you taller?! You smell like college! You traitor! You left me behind!!"
He staggered back, nearly toppling over his duffel bag.
His sister.
Maru Igarashi.
Eighteen years old. Five-foot-two of chaos. And the most dangerous mix of affection and mischief he'd ever encountered.
Kaito blinked as she looked up at him, eyes big and brown and full of the kind of love that didn't need words. The kind only siblings understood.
"You didn't cut your hair," she said, tugging at his bangs. "I told you, you look like a sad poet."
"I like it," he mumbled.
"Ugh. College has corrupted you."
She grinned, then took his bag like it weighed nothing. "Come on, Dad made curry and Mom's trying to act cool but she cried when she cleaned your room."
"…Seriously?"
"Cried like four tissues."
He followed her, a strange warmth blooming in his chest. This place. These people.
This was home, too.
That night, after dinner and too much nostalgic teasing, Kaito lay on his childhood bed and stared at the ceiling.
The room hadn't changed much. Posters of anime he no longer watched, a bookshelf full of fantasy novels with bent spines, and a glow-in-the-dark star still stuck to the corner of his desk.
His phone buzzed.
Yuuki: Are you home safe?
Kaito: Yeah. Maru tackled me at the station. I think I have internal injuries.
Yuuki: I love her already.
Kaito: You haven't met her. She might kidnap you out of jealousy.
Yuuki: Sounds romantic.
He smiled.
And then, with a strange flutter in his stomach, he typed:
Kaito: Would you want to meet my family?
There it was.
Out in the world now.
He stared at it, wondering what the right answer even was.
Yuuki: …You'd want me to?
Kaito: Yeah. I think… you're someone I want them to know.
Yuuki: Then yes. I'd love to.
Kaito let the phone fall onto his chest.
He stared at the ceiling.
And smiled
Later, as he got up to brush his teeth, the bathroom light flickered on—and there was Maru, standing in the doorway with narrowed eyes.
"You're in love," she said, arms crossed.
Kaito choked on toothpaste. "What?!"
"You're smiling like an idiot."
"I always smile like this—"
"No, you don't. You're blushing. Who is she? Do I have to fight her?"
"She's… my girlfriend."
Maru's eyes widened.
And then, slowly, she beamed.
"You have a girlfriend?!"
"…Yes."
She squealed. "I'm meeting her. I'm making her grilled mochi. I'm going to interrogate her. I'm going to make sure she deserves you. And then I'm going to plan your wedding—"
Kaito groaned. "Goodnight, Maru."
"You can't hide this from me, Kaito! I see everything!!"
He shut the door.
But the smile on his face didn't fade.
Not that night.
Not even as he fell asleep.
Sometimes, going home doesn't mean going back. It means bringing who you've become to the place where you began—and letting the people who love you see the new version of you. And sometimes, that version includes someone you're just beginning to love.