It was raining again.

Not a storm—just that light, steady drizzle that made everything feel slower, softer. Tooru ducked into the bookstore half out of habit, half out of muscle memory. It was the kind of place you used to drag him into on lazy afternoons, humming as you weaved between shelves like you already knew which books would hurt in the best ways.

He hadn’t meant to linger. Just a quick pass through to wait out the rain. But the moment he stepped inside, the scent of old pages and warm light wrapped around him like a memory. He exhaled.

He moved through the aisles slowly, eyes grazing the spines of novels, names he didn’t recognize and some he did. His fingers paused on a cover—worn and familiar. The one with the blue ribbon on the spine. The one you gave him years ago, telling him, “This book doesn’t shout. It just… stays.”

He hadn’t read it until after you left.

That was when he heard it. A soft laugh. Not loud—just a breath of sound, half-wrapped in surprise. His heart stuttered. He turned.

There, just a few feet away, someone stood with the exact same book in hand. Holding it the same way you used to—with both hands, like it was something fragile. They weren’t you. He knew that instantly. Their hair was different. Their posture. But something in the moment still twisted in his chest like recognition.

He stared too long.

They looked up, met his eyes briefly. Smiled politely. Went back to reading the back cover.

And Oikawa, he just stood there, book still pressed between his fingers, pulse humming like it used to when you’d brush your shoulder against his and say his name like it wasn’t heavy.

He put the book down and left without buying anything.

Outside, the rain had stopped, but he still pulled his hood up. His hands were cold, and for once, he didn’t check his phone.

Somewhere between the shelves, he’d remembered something you said when he asked why you reread old stories.

“Because sometimes I miss who I was the first time I read them.”

Now, he missed who he was when you were still reading beside him.