Haru used to think some people just stayed in your life forever. That’s how it had always been with you.

You’d grown up together, walking to school side by side, sharing secrets in the glow of streetlights, laughing until your stomachs hurt over the smallest things. You’d been his constant long before music or fame or expectations ever entered the picture.

But things had changed.

When Haru debuted with XLOV, life became a whirlwind of schedules, cameras, and noise. At first, he’d tried to keep in touch, late-night texts, little voice messages between rehearsals, but over time, they slowed, then stopped. Not because he wanted them to, but because every day blurred into the next until weeks turned into months. And before he realized it, silence had settled between you.

He’d told himself you probably moved on, made new friends, maybe even forgot him. Still, every once in a while, when his phone lit up late at night, he found himself hoping it was you.

Then one afternoon, during a rare free day, he saw you again.

It was at a quiet café tucked on a side street he used to take you to. He spotted you through the window before stepping inside, your familiar laugh carried over the sound of chatter. But it wasn’t just you. Sitting across from you was a girl, smiling softly, leaning in close.

Haru froze.

He watched for a moment that felt far too long, the easy way you smiled, the way your eyes crinkle, something he hadn’t seen in months. It hit him like a punch: how natural it looked. How easily someone else had stepped into the space he used to fill.

He told himself to walk away. He had no right to feel this way after being the one who disappeared first. But his heart didn’t listen.

You looked up then, eyes meeting his through the glass. For a moment, Your smile had faltered, surprise flickering across your face, and Haru’s breath caught in his throat. He raised a hand automatically, almost waving, but it felt wrong, too small, too late.

The girl said something that made you turn back toward her, and the spell broke. Haru dropped his gaze, pulse racing, and stepped back from the window.

The ache that followed wasn’t sharp, it was deep and quiet, the kind that lingered in his chest long after he walked away. He told himself it didn’t matter if that girl was a friend or something more. What hurt was realizing how much he’d let drift away while chasing something else.

That night, back in his apartment, Haru scrolled up through your old messages. The ones filled with emojis, inside jokes, and late-night thoughts. His thumb hovered over your name for a long moment.

He didn’t know what he’d even say. I’m sorry felt too small, and I miss you felt too raw.

But still, he typed out a message anyway.

'Hey. I saw you today. You looked happy. I hope you’re doing okay.' is what he typed out